Page 81 of Hoax and Kisses
She wraps her fingers around my wrist, holding on to me like she’s afraid I’ll slip away if she lets go.
Her eyes take a pleading edge. “Are we still pretending?”
I scoff, locked in on her completely. “Look around, Zoey. There’s nobody watching us.” Fingers threading through her hair, I tilt her face up. “I haven’t had to pretend for a while now,” I say, throat dry.
The truth is laid bare between us, pulsing in the thick tension we’re shrouded in. My heart slams against my ribs as the silence stretches.
How could I ever have believed she wanted to take advantage of our town the way her father wanted to? But behind that question come ten others. What if I’m wrong? What if she’s still stuck in her father’s shadow?What if she’s not ready?What if this is a repeat of what happened with Andie?
The silence is unbearable. Thankfully, she breaks it before my thoughts consume me, her voice barely above a whisper. “How about when we kissed on stage last weekend? Was that real too?”
“It—”
I’m cut off by a drop of water landing on her cheek. I chuckle, brushing it away with my thumb, but before I can blink, anotherone falls, and then another, each one coming faster than the last. A low rumble of thunder rolls overhead, and then, as if on cue, the sky breaks open.
“What thehell?” I shout, my words barely audible over the roar of the rain, my laughter bubbling up despite the chaos unfolding around us.
Wind howls through the market, lashing the rain against our skin like needles. Within moments, we’re drenched, our clothes clinging to our body, water streaming down our faces.
“The flowers!” Zoey’s voice cracks through the din.
I turn, and my stomach drops. Dammit. The storm is already hammering the petals. “Shit, we have to get them in the van.”
I rush to the roses, hauling several pots, shielding them from the worst of the downpour as much as possible. Zoey’s already scooped up the daisies and dahlias, her feet slipping in the puddles as she bolts for the van.
“Matt, the tarp!” Her voice rises above the clamor, her eyes wide and fixed on something over my head.
I catch the tarp as it tears free of the ropes, snapping at me like a whip. I yank it into my grip, barely able to keep hold of the slippery material, and scramble to tie it to the pole.
“We have to pack everything up,” I shout. “You finish covering the flowers, and I’ll take care of the stand.”
“Got it.”
“Oh, and Zoey.”
She halts mid-step, looking back at me, drenched to the bone, her hands shielding her face from the torrential downpour.
“My jacket is on the back seat. Put it on.”
An amused smile stretches on her lips. “Thanks, but have you seen me?” With the soaked wool of her cardigan pinched between her fingers, she laughs. “A little late for that, I think.”
It takes ten minutes to pack everything into the van and dismantle our stand. All around us, the market is a frenzy of rushing vendors and drenched customers darting for cover.
“Let’s find shelter,” I tell Zoey once we’ve salvaged all we can.
“Where?” she shouts over the pounding rain.
I point to a spot down the street where the shops are all tucked under alcoves, then hold out my hand. “Over there. Ready?”
Without hesitation, she slips her palm against mine. Her freezing skin sends a small jolt up my arm.
“Three. Two. One. Go,” I shout.
We bolt for the street, laughing as we dodge puddles, rain pelting us the whole way.
“This weather iscrazy,” she shrieks between spurts of laughter.
I can’t hear much beyond the rush of water, but I don’t need to. Her face says it all. Her eyes squinted from the deluge, her mouth wide open in a laugh that’s more wild and free than I ever imagined it could be. Her wet hair clings to her cheeks the way her clothes cling to her body, but she’s lit up brighter than I’ve ever seen her. She’s running without a care in the world, and the sight will be burned into my memory for the rest of my life.
