Page 41 of Storm Warning
“Well, that’s a trade secret.” He chuckles. “But between you and I, your date was a bit too focused on you, or you would have had some competition, I think.”
I don’t know why I’m so caught off by the concept, but old habits die hard. Without thinking, I reply, “It’s not a date.”
But do I want it to be? I mean, would it really be so bad if it was? He’s funny, kind, hot as hell, even if he is a tad bit, okaya lot, cocky. Honestly that’s one of the things I like most about him, the man knows what he wants and he pursues it.
The thought of letting this become serious is equally as exhilarating as it is terrifying, so I force it from my mind.Just have a little fun, why does there have to be a label?
Surprise rises along with his eyebrows. “Ah, well you better tell him that.”
24
RHETT - JULY 3, 2004
The smellof sugar and fried food fills the air as I approach one of the trailers stationed among the carnival games. Large neon letters display across the top of the trailer: Cotton Candy, Lemonade, and Funnel Cakes. Lights outline each board to draw the attention of those passing by. A small girl and her mother walk away with a bag of cotton candy and smiles so big you’d think they both just won a special prize.
Losing a game to a girl would be a massive blow to most men, but when the prize includes anything with Kaylee I could give a shit less, even if I had wound up in last.
“How can I help you, sir?” says a scruffy man with a shirt covered in grease and powdered sugar.
“I’ll take two of your largest lemonades and a funnel cake.” I grab my wallet, looking back to where I left Kaylee and smile when we make eye contact. Returning my stare back to the worker’s permanent frown, my smile cuts in half.
“Yeah, that’ll be fifteen dollars.” He looks unamused, much less vibrant than the man running the derby, but not unpleasant.
The second he sends my order through the window of thetrailer, Kaylee arrives at my side and I glance down at the green bag she didn’t have moments ago.
“That to hide the spicy little poster ya picked?” I look from her hand into the sea of green and brown within her eyes.
“Something like that.” A small laugh passes her lips, and my eyes linger on them before the man at the counter clears his throat.
“Sorry about that.” Handing a lemonade to her, I grab the funnel cake and lead her away from the crowd. I look for a place that doesn’t have as many patrons and land on a grassy area beneath a large oak tree as I take another large swig of my lemonade.
Music plays in the background from the carnival speakers and I find myself bobbing my head to Yellowcard’sOcean Avenue.
She laughs under her breath. “I wonder who burns their CD’s. To go from Alan Jackson to Yellowcard is a wild transition.”
The combination doesn’t seem wild to me at all. Maybe that’s because I like to keep things interesting, not trap myself into only liking one thing. One minute it’s the oldies, the next minute it’s Green Day. “I like it. Whoever it is has good taste.”
“Is that so?” She doesn’t look convinced. “I pictured you to be a fan of the country classics. A big Johnny Cash fan or something.”
I can see how she’d think that I rarely exist without my cowboy boots and hat. “I just so happen to have a much more eclectic taste than that,” I reply, one of my brows quirking up in challenge.
“Spell eclectic, Casanova.”
“Ouch. Sassy as always, I see,” I jest.
She leans back, her head cocking to the side as she takes me in. “Enlighten me. Now I’m dying to know. If you could burn me a CD right now, who would be on it?”
Well, now I’ve done it. It’s like finding out there’s a pop quiz and the panic sets in so quickly you forget everything you learned. What the fuck would I put on the CD? Should I offer songs she’d like, or just sputter the first songs that come to mind? I don’t even make CDs, I just switch around the radio like I’m shuffling an iPod. Don’t like a song? Not feeling something that day?Next.
I decide it’s easiest to list bands I like, leaning pretty heavily into the songs I’ve heard today. “Easy. I absolutely would let Yellowcard and Alan Jackson share the same set, but they’d be sitting with Puddle Of Mudd, Tim McGraw, Eminem, Bon Jovi, Linkin Park, and Destiny’s child—don’t go tellin’ me ya don’t likeSurvivor. I won’t believe ya.” Surprise radiates in her glare. “What?”
“Nothing, I’m just…intrigued. How about your favorite movie?”
She rests her elbows on her knees after taking a drink of her lemonade, readying herself for my answer.
“Young Guns.” She gives me a telling glare. Okay, that one seems a bit more predictable. “And yours?” I ask.
“Titanic,” she answers without skipping a beat. It makes sense her favorite movie is tragic, most girls’ is. Predictability ain’t bad though, that’s a damn good movie.
