Page 13 of Once Upon A Second Chance
I choke on nothing.
Lena appears behind me, saving me from having to respond. "Mrs. D! Those muffins smell amazing."
"Why, thank you, dear." She pats Lena's arm. "There's plenty for both of you. And maybe enough to bring by the first aid tent later..."
I nearly drop the basket.
Lena smirks. "What a great idea."
"Gotta run!" I say too loudly, backing into the house. "Thanks for themuffins!"
Mrs. Delaney's knowing chuckle follows me inside. I slam the door with my hip and round on Lena. "I hate this town."
She plucks a muffin from the basket. "No, you don't."
Bijou dances at my feet, sniffing the air greedily. I break off a piece of muffin for her, then take a huge bite of my own.
The blueberries burst sweet and tart on my tongue, and despite myself, I wonder if Richard still likes blueberry muffins.
If he remembers the time we stole a whole tray from the dining hall and ate them in bed, staining the sheets purple with juice and—
"Penny." Lena waves a hand in front of my face. "You're doing the thing again."
I scowl and shove the rest of the muffin in my mouth. "Let's go before I change my mind."
As we step out into the already-sweltering morning, the sounds of the festival setting up drift down the street—the twang of someone testing a microphone, the clatter of booth construction, the occasional burst of laughter.
My stomach twists. Somewhere in that crowd, Richard is waiting.
And for the first time in twelve years, I have no idea what to say to him.
The town square buzzes with energy, packed with families and the scent of funnel cakes.
Bluegrass music twangs from the makeshift stage as I weave through the crowd, Lena trailing behind me with a giant turkey leg in each hand.
"Slow down, Speedy," she mumbles around a mouthful of meat. "We've got all day to accidentally-on-purpose bump into McDreamy."
"I'm not—" I start to protest, then stop dead in my tracks.
There he is.
Richard stands under the red-and-white-striped first aid tent, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to reveal those stupidly perfectforearms.
He's talking to little Tommy Stephens, kneeling down to eye level as he wraps the boy's scraped knee with careful fingers.
The sight sends an unwelcome pang through my chest—he used to bandage my blisters after intramural soccer games with that same focused frown.
"Wow," Lena breathes beside me. "He's like a Hallmark movie come to life."
I elbow her hard in the ribs just as Richard looks up. His gaze locks onto mine like a heat-seeking missile.
For a suspended second, the festival noise fades.
Then Tommy tugs on Richard's sleeve, breaking the spell.
"Earth to lover girl," Lena sing-songs, shoving the second turkey leg into my hands. "Fuel up. We've got festival games to dominate."
I tear my eyes away, taking an aggressive bite. "I'm here for the pie contest. Nothing else."
