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But before I could back out or overthink it anymore, my doorbell sang its happy song.
Hayes was here.
My heart rate picked up, even as I double-checked my hair in the mirror in all its natural, curly glory, and then continued to the door.
When I opened it, my jaw dropped. Hayes was holding a colorful bouquet of flowers in a shiny, disco ball vase.
“You got me flowers?” I asked.
His smile had a hint of hope to it. “Do you like them?”
“I love them, and the vase is exactly my style,” I said honestly. “Thank you. Let me set this on the table.” I carried the pretty arrangement to my table, excited at the fact that I’d get to look at it for the coming week—and keep the vase forever. “Did you have help picking it out?”
His lips lifted slightly as he said, “Bora let me pick.”
My heart warmed, and I felt... seen. Bennett had shown up with carnations that I needed to arrange and put in my own vase. But Hayes had gotten me something I’d truly enjoy without giving me a chore. I admired the display on my thrifted table runner. It had fake blue dragonflies flitting about the surface, and the flowers matched perfectly. “Thank you, Hayes,” I said again.
“You’re welcome,” he said warmly. Now that I had examined the flowers, I could appreciate his looks. He’d worn a pair of black jeans, a gray shirt, and a denim jacket with the sleeves rolled. Mixed with the smell of his cologne and the spark in his blue eyes, I was already melting.
We walked together out of the house, and I was pleasantly surprised to see that his motorcycle wasn’t waiting in the driveway. Instead, he’d driven his pickup. And he even came to my side of the truck and opened the door for me.
It was strange—this surly guy being all chivalrous. “Who are you and what have you done with Hayes Madigan?” I teased as I sat in the seat.
He stood at the door, leaning his head against the frame. “Today, it’s just Hayes.”
I lifted a corner of my lips as he shut my door and went around to his side. Over the treetops that framed my house, I caught a glimpse of clear blue sky with white wispy clouds. The weather had given a ten percent chance of rain, but I highly doubted it.
As we pulled away from my house and got closer to Main Street, it hit me what a big deal this date was. Hayes hadn’t asked me out and then taken me to some dark and dingy bar the next town over so we could have some privacy. He’d brought me to the busiest event in Cottonwood Falls where everyone would see us together.
The thought had my heart racing just as much as his appearance... his smile. No matter how much I’d tried to tamp down my desire for him before today, it was definitely showing up in full force now in this pickup cab.
I tried to steady my nerves while he found a parking spot a few blocks away from Main Street, which had been blocked off and lined with vendors. When we got out of the truck and walked down the sidewalk, I half expected him to keep his distance. Instead, he easily caught my hand in his, lacing his calloused fingers through mine.
I looked over at him, surprised both at the gesture and at the spark I felt, and found him smiling softly back at me. “Is this okay?”
The question, his gentle expression, was so at odds with him—all tattoos and piercings and rough edges. But I was starting to realize there was more to Hayes than met the eye. “I like it,” I admitted.
With a pleased smile, he squeezed my hand and said, “What would you like to do?”
I thought that over. I’d been coming to the festival for literal decades now, so I said, “Usually I get my face painted first. The profits go to pay medical bills for people in the community.”
“Let’s do it,” he said.
I raised my eyebrows. “Really?”
He gestured at his arms, covered in tattoos. “You think I have an issue with body art?”
I chuckled. “I guess not.”
We walked together toward the tent on the corner of Main and Second that always housed the face painters. The artists were all kids in the high school art classes, and they got extra credit for painting.
The line was already starting to grow, and I was eager to wait in line with Hayes.
As a single gal, you got used to looking for red flags that hinted at a guy’s personality. Being kind to waitstaff was a big one. But so was being kind while waiting in line. I couldn’t stand someone who acted like they deserved to be right at the front or grumbled the entire time, making the wait miserable.
I glanced over at Hayes. “Long line,” I said noncommittally.
“Yeah.” He paused. “You know what I like to do in lines?”