His eyebrows shot up. “You’ve done that before?”
“Come and kiss me and find out for yourself.”
He held up his hands. “I’m all for a little biting, but on the neck or something. Maybe a nibble on the lower lip—little nip on the inner thigh, you know?”
“That’s far more than I need to know about your sexual preferences, thank you.” I climbed onto my side of the stage, dipping my head so he wouldn’t see me blushing.
Lord, I hoped he hadn’t seen me blushing.
I’d never live it down if he had.
“Yeah, well, don’t tell anyone,” Preston said from the other side of the curtain. “I don’t need those harlots outside knowing where I like to be nibbled.”
“So I can’t call them your harem, but you can call them harlots?”
“I was gonna call them total babes, but I didn’t think you’d like that.”
“You can call the women of this town whatever you like.”
“God knows you do.”
“Exactly.” There was a slight pause before we both laughed. I bit mine back and cleared my throat. “Are you ready? The boys are about to open the tent.”
“Let’s do this, Halley.”
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes as I let it back out.
Let’s do this, indeed.
CHAPTER SEVEN – HALLEY
Kissin’ Ain’t Easy
My lips were dry and sore, and it’d been one night.
My line had been a parade of teen boys. One after another they’d lined up, ready to slap their lips against mine. I was fully aware that I was the first kiss of at least six teenage boys tonight.
Apparently, the kissing booth was the cool place to get your first kiss.
Call me old fashioned, but a first kiss was something you’d remember forever, and I felt like it needed to be special.
It was like having your first kiss in a relationship. I didn’t want to marry a guy and know that our first kiss was a dare, for example. I wanted it to mean something.
The teen boys in my line didn’t feel the same way.
Neither did all the twenty-something women in Preston’s line.
I wasn’t bitter.
All right, I was a little bit bitter.
It was a shit situation to be in. There wasn’t much worse than listening to the guy you had a stupid crush on kissing other women repeatedly.
That was my issue with this whole thing. It wasn’t that it was happening, but more than I had to listen to it. That and all the giggling from the women in line waiting to kiss Creek Falls’ most eligible bachelor.
The fair was due to start at midday today. There was a huge horse show on the field adjoining the fairground that was due to start today, so there would be a huge influx of people coming into town for the show.
I didn’t care a bit about it. I wasn’t a horse person. To be honest, I wasn’t even a raccoon person, but here I was, standing on my back porch, cleaning out their bowls with hot, soapy water.
I guess people could change.
As long as I didn’t change much more, it’d be fine.
I finished up cleaning the bowls and headed back inside. I drained the water down the sink and tossed the wet rag into the basin after it.
My phone buzzed on the counter, and I picked it up in one hand and my coffee in the other.
REAGAN: What time are you getting to the fair? I have to deliver flowers to my parents.
ME: 11ish.
REAGAN: Wanna grab coffee before the booth opens?
ME: Are you paying?
REAGAN: No.
ME: Fine. Is Ava around?
REAGAN: She had another fight with Butler last night. I’ll text her.
ME: Meet you at your parents’ stall?
REAGAN: Yep. See you then.
***
By the time I’d showered and gotten ready for the day, my coffee was cold. Instead of making it again, I walked the short distance from my house to the fairground. After showing my volunteer pass to the guy at the entrance, I headed in the direction of The Wright Bouquet’s stall.
It wasn’t too hard to find. The Wrights had had the same stall since I could remember, and even if I didn’t know, there was no missing the giant tulip that stretched several feet above all the other stalls.
It smelled freaking gorgeous. The closer I got, the richer the smell was. I loved it, and visiting the flower stores had always been something I’d looked forward to when I was younger. I’d even worked in the flagship store here in Creek Falls when I was a teenager and wanted extra money on the weekend.
Working in a florist was harder than you’d think. I actually had a scar on my thumb from a particularly bitchy little thorn on a rose stem.
A vibrant sprig of lavender was one of the first plants I saw as I reached the front. Gently, I put out my hand and pulled it toward me to smell it.