Luke nodded slowly. “So don’t push. Justbe there. Show up. Women love a man who doesn’t make her do all the emotional heavy lifting.”
My mouth fell open slightly as I narrowed my eyes and stared, hard and unapologetic, at my younger brother. “Since when did you become the goddamn love doctor?”
He smirked. “Since I watched you act like a lovesick ranch dog for the last few weeks. Besides, that barrel racer I talk to from time to time?—”
Talk. Pfft.I highly doubt they do muchtalking.
“—likes romance novels. I’ve flipped through them while she’s in the shower, and I’ve read enough to know that you’re halfway to a love confession.”
I barked a laugh. “You’re insufferable.”
“It’s pronouncedirresistibly well-rounded.”
We fell quiet for a beat then, with the crowd buzzing around us and the music shifting into some up-tempo fiddle nonsense. My eyes moved back toward Andi. She was smiling at something one of the judges had just said—soft and small, like it surprised her.
And I felt it again. That pull.
Luke elbowed me. “There’s your opening. Go.”
“For what?”
“To talk to her, genius. Compliment her pie. Tell her she looks pretty. Maybe serenade her with one of those sappy songs you constantly strum on your guitar.” He grinned, and I knew whatever was about to come out of his mouth wouldn’t be good.“Or you could just cut to the chase, and tell her you’ve been thinking about what her legs would feel like wrapped around your waist?—”
“Stop.”
“—and how you’ve been wondering how her skin would taste after a good long tease?—”
“Luke…”
“But you gotta say it like you’re already halfway inside her?—”
“Okay, okay!Jesus, Luke,” I snapped and shoved his shoulder, pushing past him as I started for the pie table. “Shut your filthy mouth and go find someone else to be a menace to.”
The sound of his obnoxious laughter faded into the crowd as my boots cut a determined path through the dirt and grass. My heart was beating a little too fast for comfort. Not because I was nervous—hell, no—but because I hadn’t planned on today meaning anything…and suddenly, it did. Because I wanted something with her. Anything she’d let me have.
By the time I reached the pie table, Andi was beaming as she accepted a ribbon and a handshake from one of the judges. It was a third-place ribbon, but she was glowing like she’d just won the whole shebang. I slowed, taking in the way her eyes sparkled as another one of the judges shook her hand and patted her gently on the back. She caught sight of me then, and her smile faltered for just a second before resurfacing—smaller, like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to share this moment with me, or worse…if I’d take it away.
“Congratulations,” I said, giving her a smile that I hoped would bring that glow back and gesturing to her ribbon. “Third place is great. Especially for your first time.”
“I’m trying not to let it go to my head.” She laughed, and the sound was soft and sweet…and one hundred percent Andi when she dropped her walls.
“You should,” I said, meeting her eyes. “You earned it.”
“Well, I had a great taste tester.” The second the words left her mouth, her cheeks went crimson.
I grinned because, yeah, I was a damn good taste tester.
She pulled her gaze away from mine and looked down at the ribbon in her hands, brushing a thumb over the gold lettering. “I don’t think I’ve ever won anything before.”
I wasn’t so sure about that, and that thing pounding inside my chest begged to differ too.
“Well, it sounds like you need a victory meal,” I said. “Have you eaten anything?” I nodded toward the rows of food vendors. “The whole place smells like a fried heart attack, but I could go for something questionable.”
Andi laughed and pinned her ribbon to her jeans. “I could eat.”
I nodded once, and then—before I could think better of it—held out my hand. It lingered there in suspense as she glanced at it, and I almost pulled it back, cursing myself for getting ahead of things. But then she slowly linked her fingers with mine, and it was that hot fence sensation all over again.
“The hotdog stand probably hasn’t passed inspection since the nineties,” I warned, taking a turn for myself to deflect. “How do you feel about brisket tacos? There’s a booth near the Ferris wheel that loads them up with green chile and queso.”
