Читать книгу Cowboy, Take Me Away - Kathleen Eagle, Kathleen Eagle - Страница 9

“I was kidding about the snow cone.”

But that was where they were heading. Skyler had the carnival midway’s feedlot in her sights, and she was bearing down on a row of stands marked with painted fairgoer favorites, like an apple wearing a caramel coat and bananas splashing around in a vat of chocolate.

“I was actually looking forward to the corn dog,” she said merrily as she turned and let him catch up. “A rare treat, as it should be but still …” She folded her arms and took a Mama stance, but the look in her eyes was all about big flavor, little nutrition. “Perfect for a kid’s birthday party.”

“You kiddin’ me, woman? What kid?” Without pausing he hooked his arm around her and swept her along, zeroing in on a fading picture of two dancing corn dogs. “Do I kiss like a kid?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Uh-uh. And I’m not the one who wimped out on the Ferris wheel. Sure, I like playing games, but my game pays pretty well.” He lined them up for supper on a stick. “When I’m on my game. ‘Course, as of today, I’m past my prime. Over the hill.” He flashed the ponytailed man in the window a two-fingered order. “Are you a mustard or ketchup girl?”

“I like mine unsauced.” She took the deep-fried dog in hand and flashed him a yum-yum smile. “Clean and sober.”

“Hold mine, then.” He chuckled as he pumped mustard from a gallon jug into a small paper cup. “Down and dirty.”

They finished their main course in silence, eyeing pictures of their follow-up options as they strolled amid parents catering to children and couples caught up in each other. It was a good time to be part of a pair. Trace didn’t always feel that way, but tonight was different. It was his birthday and he was with somebody. Not just hanging out, but being together and actually looking forward to another day of the same.

Without the birthday, of course. So maybe not quite the same. Or maybe better. He damn sure wanted to find out whether he’d like her even more tomorrow.

“Last I heard, the hill was forty. Not that I’ve been there myself.” She gave him the over-to-you eye as they tossed their wooden sticks in a red trash bin.

“What?” He wasn’t going there either.

“Go ahead and ask.”

“I was raised by a gentleman.” To prove it he offered his arm. She smiled, tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow and they walked on. “Let me ask you this—how old was Mike when you married his dad?”

“He was seven. I took a summer job as his nanny. I was—” she glanced up at him, her eyes teasing “—in college. I didn’t finish.” She lifted one shoulder. “Unfortunately.”

“Me neither. The only subject I was interested in at the time was college rodeo. But I don’t say it was unfortunate. I say, fortunately I can go back when I’m ready.” He tuned in to the distant echo of the rodeo announcer talking up the final event. Bull riding. Unless a buddy was entered up, Trace didn’t care to stick around for the grand finale. “I was ten when Logan came along,” he went on. “It’s never too late for good fortune.”

“Or snow cones,” Skyler said cheerfully as she dragged her boot heels to a halt. He followed her gaze to the top of a tiny stand. Big Bad Ice.

“You want one?” Matching her delight, his cool was blown.

“No.” She went from straight face to sassy smile. “But I’ll have some cotton candy.”

He let her taste his purple snow cone and she fed him wisps of spun pink sugar. They shared a deep-fried funnel cake and a crisp cone full of frozen custard. She sang “Happy Birthday” to him over the cake and he smiled at the way her tongue stormed that tower of custard, her green eyes flashing as she left no surface unlicked. He pointed to the drip at the point of the cone and she caught it before it escaped and then sucked noisily for good measure. She caught him staring.

“Your turn.” She lifted the tongue-marked treat close to his mouth. “Sorry, but it’s melting so fast and it’s the kind that needs licking.”

“I know the feeling.”

“Well, we’ve already exchanged …” she said, as Trace plunged the tip of his tongue into custard, curled it and scooped out a substantial niche. “Oh.”

“Don’t give me that look. It was my turn.” He licked his lips as he scanned new midway territory. “You like to play games, too, don’t you?”

“That’s what birthdays are all about. Fun and games.” She handed him the rest of the ice cream, lighting up as she pointed at a new attraction. “Ring-toss! Now we’re talking.” And she was walking off on him again. She had the prettiest, most purposeful stride he’d seen on a woman, and her jeans loved her for it.

But his knee didn’t. He did a little hop-step as he followed her to a stand that housed an arrangement of bottles and an array of stuffed toys.

“Slow down, honey, you’ve got an injured man here.”

She turned in front of the stand, smiling and giving him the come-on as if nobody was hurting. “I’m gonna win you a birthday present.”

“It’s your birthday?” the burly huckster asked as he spread three plastic rings on the counter. “First toss is on the house, then. Happy birthday, cowboy.”

“Getting older and better,” Skyler reported as she reached into her purse. “He gave a fearless performance a while ago.”

“Let me guess,” the man said. “Bronc rider.”

“That, too,” she quipped. Trace laughed, elbowing her as he slapped some cash on the counter. She snatched it up ahead of the ringtoss man and tucked it under the flap of his Western-style shirt pocket. “Pick your prize, and it’s yours.”

He smiled into her eyes. “I only see one thing I want, and I’ll have to win that myself.”

“The sky’s the limit.”

“Then I’m all in.”

“And I’m all ears, waitin’ to hear who’s payin’,” said the huckster. “Sounds like the lady’s landed her share of rings.”

Trace warned the man with a look—the lady was in no way his business—and then glanced at the next booth. “How are you at knocking down milk bottles?”

“This is my game. Really. It doesn’t pay well, but I’m very good at lots of things that don’t pay well.”

She traded cash for plastic rings and then she sized up the targets. “What should I go for?”

“A rabbit’s foot.” He gave a nod. “That pink one.”

“That’s too easy. Pick a top-row prize.” She pointed to the big stuffed bunny.