Page 9 of Deep Fried Devotion
"Yes," he told her solemnly. "They studied very hard to become caviar."
The girl nodded sagely and skipped away, satisfied with this explanation.
"Did you just make a joke?" Birdie asked, grinning at him across the narrow space between their trucks.
"I don't make jokes," Soren replied, but she could see him fighting another smile.
"That was definitely a joke. A good one."
"It was factual information delivered in an age-appropriate manner."
"It was adorable."
The word hung between them. His eyes lingered on her face with an intensity that made her forget about fryers and customers and everything except the way he was looking at her.
"Birdie," he said, stepping closer.
"Yeah?"
"Would you—" He was interrupted by a commotion from the direction of the livestock barn. Raised voices, someone shouting about escaped animals, and then the unmistakable sound of panicked squealing.
"Are those the racing pigs?" Birdie asked, standing on her tiptoes to see over the crowd.
"I believe so," Soren said dryly as a pink blur shot past their corner, followed by several red-faced fair volunteers wielding feed buckets and a lot of determination.
The pig—a surprisingly speedy spotted specimen—seemed to be heading straight for their setup. Birdie had just enough time to grab her prep bowls before chaos arrived in the form of one very determined pig who'd apparently decided that her warming trays smelled like the most interesting thing at the entire fair.
"Shoo!" she called, waving her spatula ineffectively as the pig began investigating her truck with the thorough attention of a health inspector.
"Here, pig!" called one of the volunteers, shaking a bucket. "Come on, Petunia!"
Petunia was having none of it. She'd discovered something fascinating under Birdie's truck and was rooting around with single-minded determination.
"What's she doing under there?" Soren asked, crouching down to peer into the shadows.
"I think she found my emergency snack stash," Birdie said, mortified. "I keep granola bars under there in case I get hungry during long setups."
"Granola bars?"
"The organic ones with honey and dried fruit. Don't judge me."
Soren's mouth twitched. "I'm not judging. I'm impressed by your forward planning."
"Can you help me get her out? I can't reach—"
But as Birdie knelt down to coax Petunia away from her contraband snacks, the pig chose that moment to back out rapidly, colliding with Birdie and sending her tumbling sideways. She would have landed hard if Soren hadn't caught her, his arms coming around her waist to steady her.
For a moment, everything else faded away—the shouting volunteers, the amused crowd that had gathered to watch the pig chase, even Petunia herself, who was now happily crunching her way through what appeared to be an entire box of granola bars.
Birdie found herself pressed against Soren, her hands flat against him. She was close enough to count the faint freckles across his nose that she'd never noticed before.
"Hi," she said breathlessly.
"Hi," he replied, his voice rough around the edges.
Neither of them moved. Birdie was acutely aware of his hands at her waist, the way his chest rose and fell beneath her palms, the fact that if she tilted her face up just a little...
"Got her!" called one of the volunteers triumphantly, and the spell was broken. Soren helped Birdie to her feet, his hands lingering just a moment longer than necessary.
