“I wasn’t staring.”
“You were. Like, capital-S Staring.”
“Professional observation,” I muttered, but my ears were burning.
When Austin spotted us, he started walking over—then a cluster of kids ran between us, waving corndogs like sparklers, and I lost sight of him.
Mrs. Winslow appeared next, clipboard in hand, her hat still large enough to shade a small county but at least holding steady this time. “Milly! Quick question. Would you rather judge the pie-eating contest or the piglet costume parade?”
I blinked. “Those are my only options?”
“It was either that or the three-legged race. Choose your destiny.”
Cassie nudged me. “Pigs in costumes, obviously.”
“Fine,” I said. “But if I get yelled at for not picking Mrs. Anderson’s pig, I’m leaving.”
Mrs. Winslow cackled and bustled off, muttering about sequins.
The afternoon unfolded like a patchwork quilt—bright squares of chaos and color stitched together by music and the smell of barbecue. I tasted everything I shouldn’t have, hugged everyone I meant to wave at, and kept catching glimpses of Austin across the grounds. Every time our eyes met, the noiseseemed to dip, just for a second, like the fair was giving us a moment alone.
When the sun started sliding down, painting everything gold, Levi’s voice boomed from the stage. “The Everwood Volunteer Fire Department proudly presents...” He tried to do a drumroll on the mic with his fingers, then laughed when it failed. “Dinner’s up! Come get it before Mason eats it all!”
“Hey!” I heard Mason yell from the grill. Cassie and I laughed long and hard at that.
We gathered at long tables strung with lights. Paper plates were filled to their breaking point, kids laughed, and the world was full. I sat between Cassie and Austin, trying to remember the last time I’d felt this at ease.
Austin handed me a plate—ribs, potatoes, a little of everything. “You’re going to need a nap after this.”
“Just one?” I asked, grinning.
He laughed, shaking his head. “Perhaps you should sleep in.”
I raised a rib like a toast. “To Founders Day festivities and more food than should be legal.”
A few students from the high school made themselves into an old-school band and struck up an easy country tune that made people sway more than dance. Lanterns swayed overhead, their light catching in Austin’s hair as he looked at me. “You want to walk?” he asked.
I nodded, and we slipped away from the tables after Cassie made her way to the grill to help cook.
The air was cooler near the fence line. Fireflies blinked between the tall grass, and the noise of the crowd faded into something softer—just laughter and the low hum of music.
“I used to think places like this only existed in postcards,” I said.
He looked out over the fairgrounds. “Sometimes they do. Until someone like you moves in and proves they can be real.”
My throat tightened. “That’s a lot of faith for someone who organizes his wrenches.”
“Faith needs order,” he said, smiling.
I was about to answer when a wave of teenagers barreled past, chasing each other with sparklers. Someone bumped my shoulder hard enough to knock me off balance.
Austin caught me before I could stumble, his hands firm around my arms.
For a heartbeat, everything stopped—the sound, the lights, the world itself.
“Got you,” he said quietly.
I looked up at him, pulse thudding, and before I could talk myself out of it, I rose on my toes and kissed his cheek, my lips lingering a little, feeling the warmth of his skin. A moment so perfect. We’d been playing a game, and I’d just changed the rules. My cheeks flushed, hoping he felt something in return.
