Page 3 of Mountain Man's Corn Maze Cutie
“Most people have common sense,” he said. “But some people don’t.”
“Some people will always find a way to hurt themselves, no matter how many warning signs you put up.”
Marc’s mouth quirked up at one corner, and for a split second, I thought he might actually smile. But then his expression went serious again.
“Fine. One small sign.”
“Deal.” I stuck out my hand.
He looked at it for a moment before reaching out to shake it. His hand was warm and callused and completely engulfed mine. The contact sent an unexpected jolt up my arm.
“I’ll have it ready by tomorrow morning,” I said, pulling my hand back maybe a little too quickly.
“See that you do.”
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving me staring after him like an idiot. I watched until he disappeared into the crowd near the maze entrance, then I sank back into my chair.
What had just happened? I’d been having a perfectly normal argument with a perfectly unreasonable man, and somehow it had turned into…what? Flirting?
No. Definitely not flirting. Marc Fowler was clearly not the flirting type. He was a serious, military-precision, corn-maze-building guy who probably thought fun was a four-letter word.
So why was my heart still racing?
I looked down at my hand, the one he’d shaken. I could still feel the warmth of his skin, the rough texture of his palm.
This was ridiculous. I didn’t have time for whatever this was. I had a business to run, popcorn to sell, and apparently, a small sign to make.
But as I turned back to my display, straightening bags and refilling containers, I couldn’t stop glancing toward the corn maze entrance, hoping for another glimpse of Marc Fowler.
2
MARC
“You think that’s going to work?” my buddy Ashe asked as he eyed the sign I’d just made at his woodworking booth.
I’d used one of Ashe’s wood scraps and some paint from our coworker, Clayton. He was touching up the entrance to the festival today, and it was his paintbrush I set down as I eyed my creation.
No food or drink on trail, it read.
“Absolutely not.” I shook my head. “People don’t read signs.”
Ashe chuckled. “Maybe something that says,Enter at your own risk?”
Yeah, I’d considered that one, but it sounded a little too much like we were doing a haunted maze. That would be interesting. Maybe next year.
“Marc!”
The voice shot through the air around us, and my heart immediately sped up at the sound. It was the woman from the popcorn booth. A woman who’d been making my life a living hell, and not just because her weird snack food was scatteredon the small section of the grounds that I’d been tasked with keeping clean this week.
No, this was deeper. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since I’d seen her, and it was a pain in my backside. I’d only met her a couple of hours ago, so I figured that would fade. But now here she was, walking toward me, those rounded hips and generous tits making my hands ache to touch. And that adorable blonde ponytail flopping behind her as she walked only added to it.
But she wasn’t happy. In fact, all her features were hardened. She was definitely under stress.
“We’ve lost a kid. We need your help.”
Kid? Help? It took a second for my mind to register the words. My body was automatically reacting to the fact that she’d sought me out when she needed someone. Damn if I didn’t love being her hero.
“What kid?” I was already moving, the sign forgotten as I stepped toward her.
