Page 96 of Where We Call Home

“Want one of just you two?” Mac offered, holding his hand out for the camera.

I looked at Rhodes, who met my gaze with a shrug. With a small nod, I handed the camera to Mac.

“Alright, lovebirds, arms around each other,” Mac said with a grin.

I stepped closer to Rhodes, wrapping my arms around his middle. He pulled me under his arm, his embrace solid and warm. As Mac snapped the picture, a single word whispered through my mind:home.

The evening drifted on as we wandered from booth to booth, soaking in the festive atmosphere. Events peppered the night—a wood-cutting contest, sack races, and, my favorite, bobbing for apples. While I’d usually dominate an apple-bobbing contest anywhere else, there was no way I was risking my dignity in front of half the town.

Boone, on the other hand, couldn’t resist. “Let’s do it!” he called, pointing at the lineup of bins. “I bet I’ll win.”

“Doubt it,” Mac shot back, rolling up his sleeves. “You’ve got about as much chance of winning as wrestling a hog in the mud.”

My face scrunched, and I looked at Penny and Aspen, who looked back at me with the same confused expression. Mac spoke in his own language most of the time; no one understood it but him.

“Game on!” Boone declared, tossing his cowboy hat onto Aspen’s head. “You two in?” He nodded toward Logan and Rhodes.

“Hell yeah,” Logan said, pulling off his hat and hesitating, unsure where to put it. I held out my hand, and he grinned, handing it over.

I looked up at Rhodes, who seemed hesitant to join in. Leaning closer, I nudged him with my elbow. “Do it. I want to see you win, it’ll be hot.”

That did the trick. “Say less,” he replied, pulling off his baseball cap. “I’d put this on your head, but it doesn’t have the same meaning.”

Laughing, I took the hat and teased, “Go show them who the real man is.”

Rhodes chuckled and followed the guys to the lineup. Each of them knelt in front of a bin filled with water and apples, ready to compete. Aspen, Penny, and I stood together, watching from the sidelines. I couldn’t help smiling like a fool as Rhodes leaned forward, the light catching on his profile.

Watching him like this, so effortlessly confident and playful, I knew one thing for sure: I was absolutelygonefor this man.

At the older man’s call, everyone dove in, heads plunging into the water as they scrambled to grab apples with their teeth. The challenge was simple: the first to clear their bucket won.

I couldn’t take my eyes off Rhodes. His head dipped into the water, and he quickly came up with an apple clenched between his teeth. Water streamed down his face, his soaked hair falling messily across his forehead. He shook his head to fling off the droplets, sending a small spray around him.

“Keep going!” I cheered, a little too enthusiastically. A few people glanced my way, and I cleared my throat, reining in my excitement as I shifted to quieter clapping.

Penny was next to yell. “Let’s go!” she called, her voice carrying over the crowd.

Aspen joined in, jumping up and down as she cheered for Boone. “Come on, Boone! You’ve got this!”

The three of us laughed as we watched the guys on their knees, water splashing everywhere as they struggled to snag the apples. The ridiculousness of it all made it even more entertaining.

I brought my camera up and started snapping away, taking photos of everyone around us as well as the contest.

Finally, Logan shot to his feet, arms raised in triumph, an apple still dangling from his mouth. “Victory!” he declared, his muffled voice earning a round of cheers from the crowd.

I waved his hat in the air and cheered with the rest of the spectators. Around us, the guys were coming up for air, shaking water from their faces and grinning through their defeat. The whole scene was pure chaos and hilarity, and I loved every second of it.

The judge handed Logan something; it looked like little pieces of paper. It occurred to me none of the guys knew what they were trying to win except for bragging rights to stoke their pride.

Logan jogged up to Rhodes, conversing about something I couldn’t quite interpret. I turned my attention away, trying not to seem like I was prying or listening in.

“How was that?” Rhodes asked when he joined me, using the hem of his shirt to dry his face. The move exposed a sliver of his stomach, and I couldn’t help but notice how the water clung to his skin.

“Pretty hot,” I replied, giving him a playful nudge with my shoulder.

The rest of the evening was spent indulging in deep-fried apple slices drizzled with caramel—sweet, sticky, and utterly delicious. As the festival began winding down, the crowd started thinning, and it felt like the perfect time to call it a night.

After saying our goodbyes to everyone, Rhodes helped me climb into his truck. We headed home, the quiet hum of the drive soothing after the noise of the festival.

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