Page 48 of Chasing Callie

A blush warms my cheeks. “Uh, thanks.” I grab a rag and wipe down the plastic tablecloth, needing something to do with my hands. “Are you three enjoying the festival? Or are you only here to cause trouble?”

“We helped set up the entire main stage,” Brax counters.

“And hauled all the kegs for Maura,” Jax adds.

Knox watches me, silent and intense. What’s that man thinking and why do I have a feeling it’s something about how easily he could devour me?

“Can you take a break?” Knox finally asks.

“I’m working.”

“Twenty minutes.” He leans closer. “Please, Callie Mae.”

The way he says my full name makes my stomach flip.

“Sally Mae!” Brax calls toward the other side of the drink station where my mom is filling up shot glasses with Jager.

She glances over and grins. “About time you showed up! Want a Jager bomb?”

“We wanted to take Callie for a ride,” Jax says, flashing her that charming smile.

Take me for a ride or take me on a ride? Maybe both? I wouldn’t be opposed, but given how that went for us last time, I don’t know.

Mom catches my hesitation and her grin quirks toward world domination. “Oh yeah, go on, take thirty. Lord knows these boys need supervision.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve got the bar. Now get out of here before I make you drink a Jager bomb.”

My stomach revolts at the thought. I rip off my apron as she chuckles and hightail it to safety. A few minutes later, we’re standing at the base of the massive Ferris wheel that dominates the festival skyline. My stomach drops looking at it. Did this thing get bigger?

“Seriously? This is where you’re dragging me?” I stare at the metal death trap warily.

“Still brave, Alley cat?” Knox’s words send a shiver down my spine. They all know I’m scared of heights, and they all know that I’ll get on the ride to prove that I can. I’m stubborn like that.

“Is this rusty contraption up to code?”

Brax grins. “It’s perfectly safe. We checked all the permits.”

“Sure you did.” I sigh. I’m not going to let a kiddie ride scare me. I’m an adult. I can do adult things like get into a rocking bucket that’ll plunge toward the ground. No problem. It’s fine. Totally fine. It’s fine.

It’ll be a quick death.

The operator waves us forward and ushers us into one of the four-person buckets. I find myself next to Knox, our thighs pressed together in the small space, while Brax and Jax settle in across from us.

The safety bar comes down with a clank that sounds too flimsy for something meant to prevent us from plummeting to our deaths.

“This is a terrible idea,” I mutter as the wheel begins to move, lifting us backward and upward.

We aren’t even going full speed, but my head swims as we rise higher. These rides should be illegal. A warm, callused hand covers my thigh and squeezes gently.

“Breathe, Callie,” Knox murmurs.

I inhale sharply, suddenly aware I’d been holding my breath. When I glance at him, his eyes hold mine with an intense familiarity that makes me forget about the height. Knox could have the world in his hands, but the way he looks at me tells me I’d still be one of his favorite people. I offer him a shaky smile, and his hand relaxes but doesn’t leave my leg. Instead, his palm treks up my thigh, rough and callused. The hands of a hardworking man. Tingles rush over my skin as his palm glides back down my leg only to start the torturous process again.

Across from us, I notice Brax and Jax watching our interaction with matching expressions of interest. Something unspoken passes between them.

The bucket lurches and I gasp, hand flying out to grasp the metal frame. “Jesus fucking Christ!”