GEORGIANA
I listen to my phone ringing in my room where I left it last night before I came to wait for Raiden in his bed.
He’s still asleep next to me and I have no idea how late it is, but the sun has been up for a while. I dozed off again, but now someone is trying to get hold of me, so I quietly extract myself from where Raiden’s arm still rests on my hip and clamber out of bed.
I tiptoe to my room and find my phone on the nightstand.
Two missed calls from Britt. I press dial and she answers within a second.
“Hey, do you know where Raiden is?” Britt sounds out of breath.
“His truck is still here; he has to be in bed.” I don’t know why I tell this little fib. Maybe because Britt is the 5G equivalent of the village grapevine.
“Okay, well, Hunter isn’t answering, and Raiden isn’t answering either. I know what day it is, but I need someone to come help at the ice cream stall.”
I glance at the time on my phone before turning it back to my ear. It’s nine in the morning. “I can help. I just need to shower and get dressed.”
“Could you? That would be amazing. We’ve got everything ready, but I sense the crowd building with the farmer’s market in full swing, and you know it’s never too early for ice cream in Ashleigh Lake.”
I laugh. “No problem. Where’re you parked?”
Britt gives me directions to where their ice cream trailer is located, and we hang up.
I quietly rush through my shower and get dressed in the same gorgeous summer dress I wore to Burlington, light and totally girly, loving the fact that I don’t need my work boots today. In the kitchen, I find Raiden’s phone and keys, and notice that his phone is dead. I plug it in to charge, switch it on silent, and scribble him a message on a piece of scrap paper.
Talking Hunter off the ledge would have been exhausting. By the way Raiden’s body froze last night when I asked him about the scar, and how he subsequently deflated once the words were out, I bet the dread of this day physically strangles him inside, until the moment when it passes. In between the lines, he told me what his night terror was about. For once he didn’t clam up with me and it was the most precious moment of them all. Deep down, I know he’s never gone into that level of detail with anybody before.
I’m out of the house a minute later, knowing it will be best for him to sleep in.
As I drive into town, I get directed away from the main road to the side streets to park my car. The main street and thoroughfare are cordoned off for pedestrians; anybody wanting to pass through the town by car will need to take a detour. For what it’s worth, it’s a great way to make people stop and explore the town and spend money, even if they didn’t intend to.
I find parking several blocks away and rush to the pedestrian zone. It’s filled with colorful food stalls that sell everything from maple syrup, cheese, fruit and vegetables, to waffles and breakfast sausages, hot off the grill. My mouth waters and I grab a quick bite and a coffee. I eat as I walk toward the Ashleigh Lake Organic Ice Cream trailer a hundred yards ahead, right before the bottleneck in the road by the lake, where traffic is once again diverted.
Britt already looks harassed and there’s a line forming that’s ten people deep. Hunter’s ice cream stall is a vintage-style custom-made trailer with iron lacework framing the roof, and a wide front counter in cream and light blue hues, lined with glass-covered ice cream freezers. It’s totally dreamy. I lift the counter flap and get behind the serving counter, where Britt shoots me a smile.
“Derek will keep us stocked up in between everything else he does. I always run this gig with Hunter, but for the first time in years that day falls on the same day as the fair.” She squeezes my arm. “Thank you for stepping in. I’m sure Hunter will be here soon.”
It’s lunchtime by the time Raiden and Hunter rush up together to the trailer, where I swear I’ve served at least a thousand scoops already. My forearm is sore from scooping and with Derek keeping us stocked up with three-gallon ice cream tubs, there’s been no pause. The Nutty Crust is a hit and I’m in awe of the support from the crowd, of which around fifty percent are locals who all greet Britt as if she’s family.
With Raiden’s eyes on me, I’m suddenly shy. Between everything that’s happened in the past two days, we never discussed what happens next. I have no idea how to react to his presence in public like this. If we were alone at the barn, this greeting would have been very hands-on. Here though, we gaze at each other, a bit bashful, but as if neither Britt nor Hunter exists.
“Thanks for this, Britt, George,” Hunter says as he gets behind the counter. He looks like he had a rough night, and my heart squeezes. “I owe you big time.”
“As always,” Britt chirps back with a wink at me. “This is where we girls go for lunch.”
“Raiden and I will take over. Come back when you’re done?” Hunter asks as he plucks two Ashleigh Lake Organic Dairy aprons from a cupboard underneath the back counter and passes one to Raiden. “If that’s before six, that is, because we’re closing up shop then.”
Raiden’s gaze hasn’t left my face and a slow blush pushes up to my cheeks, heat invading my body as if he’s in charge of my heartbeat and pulse. Every moment of last night repeats in my mind’s eye, but my focus seems to home in on the bit where I went down on him.
“It might be a very long lunch,” Britt jokes. “You’re all set with Raiden here and don’t need us anymore, right?”
Hunter chuckles as I scoot past him, Britt already out of the confines of the trailer. Raiden is blocking my way and before I can fumble on further, he wraps me in his arms and hugs me close. There’s no kiss, only a soft inhale of my scent and a few whispered words, for my ears only. “Thank you for letting me sleep in. I missed you when I woke up. We’ll have to do a retake.”
He lets go of me with a twinkle in his eye and I bite my lip, feeling super flirty, but not keen to show my hand in front of Britt or Hunter. “We definitely can do a retake,” I whisper back and walk off, feeling his gaze on my butt and legs as my breezy skirt sways against my thighs.
“What was that about?” Britt asks as soon as we’re out of the men’s earshot.
“Nothing.”