Page 51 of Digging Up Love
“Funny.” She spoke flat, but a smile twitched at the corners of her lips.
He shot a last glance back at the car, the lone vehicle on the dirt road, then caught up to her. She smelled like sunshine and coconuts. Fruity and delicious. Quentin shoved his free hand in his pocket to keep himself from reaching out for her hand.
But the hairs prickled on the back of his neck, and he darted his eyes around. She’d brought him to acornfield. In Podunkville, USA. The cornstalks rustled in the hot breeze, then subsided, the muggy stillness broken only by the buzz of insects and the crunch of their feet on gravel.
They followed the road for about a quarter mile, his concern growing, until out of nowhere the cornfield opened up to reveal a grassy lot, dotted with vehicles. At the far end of the field sat carnival rides, and beyond, rows of low-roofed white buildings.
Alisha stepped forward and spun around. “Ta-da! Welcome to the county fair.”
Quentin tried for a convincing smile, aware the result was a lot of teeth and not much lips.
“I can see you’re not appropriately wowed. Give it time. This is a hot attraction; that’s why I parked way out in the boonies. By lunchtime this place will be crawling with people. And we picked the perfect day to come—they’re showing pigs.”
“Showing them what?”
Alisha coughed out a laugh and walked backward, eyes sparkling. Her purse dragged the V-neck of her T-shirt down, revealing a hot-pink bra strap. She reached for his hand. For the second time today. Not that he was counting. “C’mon, city boy.”
All his objections dried on his lips. The softness of her hand in his had him willing his heart to slow down so he could catch his breath.
The carnival was quiet, all the games shuttered. Sleepy workers stepped over power cables and gathered in small groups in the shade. Alisha explained that the rides wouldn’t start up until noon, but thebarns were open to walk through. When he asked why anyone would want to tour a barn voluntarily, her grin told him she might agree with his logic. But he didn’t push it, following her into the nearest building with way more gusto than a bunch of bunnies deserved, because if she was up for sacrificing in the name of time with him, well, then bring on the rodents.
They stepped into the gloom and peered into the rows of cages. Luxuriant, curly fur covered some rabbits, so thick it weighed the tips of their ears down. Other pens housed pink-eyed albinos, their jaws working furiously on bits of hay poking out of their mouths. Earth’s biodiversity never ceased to amaze him.
One of the rabbits was easily the size of a dog. The label on its cage readFLEMISHGIANT. Giant was right. Quentin leaned close to one to snap a photo for his nieces, and the rabbit thumped its back feet on the metal cage. Next to the rabbit, Alisha jumped a mile, her sneakers skidding on the concrete as she danced away.
Not so eager for the bunnies, then. Fine by him.
The next barn housed horses. In one of the stalls, a huge horse regarded them through wise dark eyes, like a sentient Narnian beast. A black mane fell across its face, and feathery white hair fanned out around its hooves.
“A Budweiser horse!”
She laughed, pointing to the placard. “Clydesdale.”
But she hung back in the center of the aisle, arms crossed. A gust of wind sent sawdust swirling around her purple high-tops in a small eddy.
“Hey, Alisha, you should see this guy.” He peered into the next stall, waving her over. “So teeny.”
On tiptoe, she stepped closer, craning her neck to see inside. Once she was next to him, he threaded his fingers through hers again and spoke low, eyes on the horse. “Why am I getting the vibe you’re not into livestock?”
“Does it show?”
Laughing, he held up an index finger and thumb, meeting her eyes with a grin. “Just a little.”
“Yeah, animals are not my thing.” She bit her lip. “I mean, cats are okay.”
Quentin screwed up his face. “Are cats even animals?”
To his delight, she grinned, relaxing. “Right? More like hell on four paws.”
“Yes! When I think of pets, I picture dirt and mess and—”
“Biting, maiming?”
“I was going to say ‘inconvenience,’” laughed Quentin. “But okay, yes, we could add bodily harm to the list. I prefer my animals extinct,” he joked. “Although I wouldn’t mind seeing a barnful of triceratops. Is that on the tour?”
Alisha smiled. “How is it that every time we talk, I like you even more?” Her eyes widened, and she captured her lip between her teeth.
Yeah, same. Her admission had him flat on the concrete floor, but he chose to play it off. “I’m very likable, that’s why.”
