Page 4 of Stripped Down at the Fair

She shrugged. “I don’t have a boss. I’m paying for this space. I’ve already broken even on that. I’m just hoping the weekend will bring the crowds.”

Yeah, I knew what she meant. Despite the line for the Tilt-A-Whirl, this place had been dead during its first three days. Not many people went to the fair on weekdays, I guessed.

“I only get thirty minutes for lunch,” I said. “There’s a kebab truck near the entrance. Best chicken you’ll ever put in your mouth.”

I held in a wince at my own words. I hung out on construction crews all day, so it wasn’t like it was unusual for meto have my mind in the gutter, but this went beyond that. I was actually having thoughts about her with something in her mouth that wasn’t chicken on a stick.

This time, I actually winced at the thought. That was a little much, even for me. It didn’t surprise me, though, considering I was long overdue for some action.

But this woman was far more than that. I wanted to get to know her. To spend time with her. To pull her into my arms and hold her all night while we slept. On a more primal level, I wanted to make her mine. To make sure no other man could claim her as his.

“Kebabs sound perfect,” she said. “I’m starving. Where do I meet you?”

“Just past the ring toss, there’s an alleyway. I’ll grab the food and see you over there in ten minutes.”

And then, without waiting for her response, I turned and started toward the food truck. I’d text my boss and let him know the Tilt-A-Whirl was fixed as soon as I was in line. I didn’t want to waste a second of my break that could be spent with my blue-eyed blonde beauty.

3

CATE

Our kids would have blue eyes. That was the weird thought I had as I sat on the grass, enjoying the most delicious piece of meat I’d ever put in my mouth.

Delicious piece of meat. That thought made me blush. What was wrong with me? I kept having thoughts that weren’t like me at all. My fantasies had always been PG-rated at worst, but this guy had taken me all the way to X-rated. Maybe I was just long overdue for turning into a pervert.

“This is great,” I said, staring at the kebab, which was loaded with chicken and veggies. “How did you know I hadn’t already tried it?”

“You bring your lunch.”

Those words widened my eyes as I looked over at him. Had I heard what I thought I had?

“I haven’t been stalking you,” he said. “I just noticed the first day when I was fixing the Tilt-a-Whirl that you pulled out a lunch bag and ate a sandwich between customers.”

Holy cow, that was a lot of noticing. “I didn’t think you even saw me over there. You seemed pretty absorbed in your work.”

“My peripheral vision is alive and well.”

Funny, considering he wasn’t looking at me now. He was staring straight ahead. Did that mean he was watching me slide chunks of meat into my mouth?

There I went again. My mind was firmly in the gutter.

“I’m trying to save money,” I said.

Why had I admitted that? It wasn’t something I was proud of, but I shouldn’t be embarrassed either. I was twenty-three, and I’d never been college material. I just didn’t like being shut in a room for hours at a time. I barely made it through high school without losing my mind. Unfortunately, that limited my career options.

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” he said. “I had to start working when I was fourteen to support my family after my dad died. The military was the only thing that saved me. Even now, I would scramble to pay the bills if the cost of living here wasn’t next to nothing.”

I felt bad about how much better that made me feel. I didn’t have to struggle at all as a kid—financially, anyway—but growing up in an abusive household was no walk in the park. Finally, Mom left, and even though we had no money for daily expenses, let alone college, our lives were so much happier when we didn’t have to live in constant fear.

“There’s a farmer’s market,” he said.

He looked over at me, his eyes filled with that intensity again. This time, it wasn’t the fiery passion I’d seen before. No, I saw excitement. It was barely a glimmer in his eye. Someone walking by probably wouldn’t have noticed, but I was homed in on him right now.

“Farmer’s market?” I asked.

Why would he be so excited about that? I must be missing something.

“Every Saturday, on the square,” he said. “Lots of fresh produce and home-baked bread. But they allow other boothstoo. It might not be worth the drive, but if you have family here…”

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