Page 46 of Under Pink Skies

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“I’ve got a question for you. We’re bringing back the Founder’s Day festival this October.”

Mari’s eyebrows rose. “How wonderful! Why, it’s been an age since we last had the festival.”

“Yes, it has. That’s why we want to make this festival the best it can be. We want to have a children’s section where parents can let their littles ones play and explore in a safe environment, so they can enjoy their meal. Would you be willing to donate a few books so the younger kids can have something to take home with them? I figured it would be a great way to promote literacy, which I know is something that’s important to you and the mission of Forest Grove.”

Mari’s eyes lit up.

“I’d love to, Abbie. What a wonderful idea. If you’d like, I can also plan to do a read along for the littlest ones. Maybe one geared towards preschoolers? They love picture books at that age.”

“That would be wonderful, Mari. Thank you so much for offering. I’ll put you in touch with Lucas Morales. He’s part of the team at Winding Road Farm, the main sponsor for the festival. They’re helping us put everything together. Lucas is going to coordinate the children’s play area. If you could call him with the details, he’ll make sure you have a designated space for your activities.”

Connor returned with three books. A space western, a swash-buckling pirate fantasy, and a military narrative nonfiction. I raised my eyebrows in his direction.

“A man of varied taste, I see,” Mari said with a smirk as she took the books from Connor’s outstretched hands.

“I didn’t get to read much on active duty, so I’m making up for lost time.”

Mari’s smile grew wider as Connor handed her a wrinkled twenty and told her to keep the change.

“I like him,” the older woman declared, and I swore I saw Connor’s chest puff out further with male pride.

“Thank you again, Mari,” I said, giving the woman a small wave as we exited the bookshop. I glanced at my watch, and my eyes widened when I saw it was already two in the afternoon. Jesus, time really was a construct.

“One last stop,” I said, turning towards Connor. “We need to talk to Willie at the Roadhouse.”

Connor’s eyes darkened. “I’m not sure it’s a great idea for me to come with you for that one.”

I reached out and squeezed his arm in a reassuring gesture, trying my best to ignore the feeling of his thick muscle beneath my fingers.

“It’ll be okay,” I said. “If you really don’t want to, you can head back to Watford General and hang out with Imogen for a bit. I’m happy to talk to Willie alone, if that would make you more comfortable.”

Connor was quiet for a long moment, as if warring with himself, unable to decide.

“No, I want to go with you. Lead the way.”

Tension radiated from him in waves. I linked my arm with his. Consequences be damned.

I’ve got you, I thought, though I was too scared to speak it out loud into the delicate space that existed between our bodies.I’ve got you.

Chapter 16

Connor

Iknewcomingherewas a bad idea.

The Roadhouse hadn’t changed in the slightest since the last time I’d been there. It was still the same rundown bar and grille. Abbie and I entered the building together, her hand sliding from my forearm to interlock our fingers.

I hoped she couldn’t feel mine trembling.

Three pool tables that had seen better days took up most of the open space, except for the small open mic section in the back left corner. There were a few bar stools and high tops, but the heart of the Roadhouse was the solid wood bar top that took up most of the right wall. Neon signs for every kind of domestic and imported beer on the market lit the space, illuminating old license plates, band posters, and a few faded polaroids and historical prints of Watford that adorned the walls.

No one else was in the bar at this hour, and for that, I was grateful. I resolved to take my wins wherever I could get them.

“Connor Harvey?” Willie said, straightening. “Jesus Christ, what the hell are you doing back here?”

“Willie,” Abbie said, affronted, but I expected this reaction.

“Is Ellis with you?” Willie demanded, pointing a finger in my face.