Page 93 of Make Mine Sweet
He waggles a finger between the two of us, eyes widening as though he’s caught onto something. “Diabetes, maybe?”
She takes me by the hand, glaring at the man as if she wants to set him on fire. “Maybe you should ask yourself why you’re so focused on what he’s missing. Personally, I think he’s pretty fantastic just the way he is.”
Oh, okay. It’smeshe’s setting on fire. Just like her impulsive kiss the other night, this side of her is unexpected but suits her exactly right. I don’t need her defending me any more than she needs me to tell her what to do about August’s diabetes. But her standing up for me, beingherefor me, means everything.
“Wren, I’m taking a break.” She pulls me away from the cart, and August trots along on my other side, still holding my hand.
“You got it!” Wren shouts from behind us.
The three of us walk through the market in a little chain. I’m not sure where Tess is taking us, but I suspect she just needed to get away. I’ve been there.
August lets me go and cuts in front of Tess.
“Mama, can I?” He points at a face painting booth.
“Sure, buddy.” She waves him along to get in the short line. Her attention stays focused on him, but I’ve seen this move before.
I lean closer to her. “Are we going to talk about how you ripped that guy a new one?”
She laughs but finally meets my gaze. “I know you’re more than capable of defending yourself, but I have some experience with Mr. Miller. He would have asked a hundred invasive questions before tiring out.”
“He’s bothered you before?”
She gestures at August, happily waiting in line. “When we first got his monitor and insulin pump. The man’s morbid curiosity knows no bounds.”
I’d ask for specifics, but I doubt it would douse the protectiveness simmering inside me. “I might head back over to the cart and have a talk with him myself.”
She pulls me closer, her free hand wrapping around my biceps, trying not to smile. “I think he’s had enough for now.”
“If it’s any consolation, you’re breathtaking when you’re furious.” My avenging angel, ready to cut somebody.
Her tiny smile has a hint of mischief to it. “Should I ready the CPR?”
I lean even closer, loving her flirtatious side. “Please.”
She laughs but focuses on August. “Oh, no.”
I turn to catch what’s got her so dismayed, but it doesn’t take much investigation. August’s sitting in the face painting chair being made to look like a pirate. He’s got a painted-on red bandana with a skull and crossbones in the middle, various scars on each cheek, and is currently getting a beard and mustache dabbed on.
“I might have talked about pirates too fondly.” She side-eyes me. “He asked me yesterday if his hair is long enough for a ‘man bunny.’”
“Not thrilled about the bunny, but I’m taking that as a compliment.”
“I thought you might.”
August slides off the camp chair and rushes over to us. “Isn’t it great, Mama?”
“You’re the cutest little pirate.”
I pay the face painter, ignoring Tess’s attempts to scowl at me. It’s a few dollars for some fun, what’s the big deal?
A firetruck honks its horn as it pulls up the alley not far away from us. Kids stream forward to get a better look, and a few firefighters hop off the back, presumably to entertain their questions.
August’s gasp is almost as loud as the firetruck’s horn. “Mama! Can we go?”
“I know how much you want to, buddy, but I can’t leave Aunt Wren to handle the customers alone.” She turns to me. “I’m sorry we can’t spend the afternoon together.”
“I understand.” She has a job to do, and I don’t want to get in the way. “I can take August to see the fire truck.”
