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“Well, today, we’re here to look, but that’s a very good point to consider in the future.”

The father had been studying the waterfall since he’d reached Leslie’s booth. “Can we find you online?”

“Absolutely.” She took a business card from the holder at one corner of the table and handed it to him. “I ship, but it can get expensive. We can meet up in town if you’re local.”

“We are. Thanks.”

When they moved on, Hannah beamed. “I make the best publicist.”

“You really do.”

They caught up on random small-town small talk for about an hour between the minutes Leslie spent explaining her work to various fairgoers. Then Hannah’s phone vibrated in her pocket.

“Are you ignoring your texts, or did you not notice your phone just vibrated against your body?” Leslie couldn’t imagine life with such dull senses.

“Oh, thanks.” Hannah tugged her phone from the pocket of her sundress. “Oh! It’s after four. Jake’s wondering if I’m going to stand him up on his birthday.”

“Well, don’t do that.”

“We’ve got a reservation at your steakhouse for 5:30.”

“Then get out of here.”

It wasn’thersteakhouse, but she’d long ago given up trying to tell Jake and Hannah. When she’d been promoted to head waitress two years ago, her parents and her friends had celebrated as if she’d bought the restaurant, though all of them understood her first love would always be art.

If only art could pay the bills.

Fair traffic began to dwindle. Leslie flipped through her sales receipts and smiled. With the lowest price point, her pocket-sized overhead dioramas always sold the most. But today she’d also sold five larger models, including a winter-scape that she’d been bringing to the fair since last January. An elderly couple had proclaimed it the perfect way to defy the July heat and laughed together as they paid for it. Both were so amused, there must be some inside joke involved.

Leslie’s head snapped up, and she lost track of her math. Her nostrils flared. Yes. That was a perfectly balanced scent—equal parts salt and acid—without a drop of sweat. And it belonged to neither of her parents.

She watched the cluster of people heading toward her. All human. She peered past them, and…there. The scent belonged to a man who appeared roughly her age, though age wasn’t determinable from appearance among her kind.

The man approached her with a liquid stride he didn’t bother restraining. He stopped in front of her booth and smiled without his teeth, a slow curve of his mouth that rose higher on one side. His eyes were pure blue, glittering with flecks of silver. Leslie blinked to cancel the appealing effect of him. It didn’t work.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hello. Welcome to Harmony Ridge.”

“Thank you. It’s great to see you, Leslie.” The voice of a vampire was never unpleasant, never clumsy, but this guy should be reading audiobooks for a living. Romance audiobooks.

Wait. “Sorry, do we know each other?”

He cocked his head, and a little crinkle formed between his eyes though his smile didn’t fade. “Don’t we?”

She took a moment to study. He clearly didn’t mind, stood still and held her gaze while she catalogued details and tried to match them to a memory. Those eyes—silver chips dancing in ocean blue, a perfect fringe of lash. Textured like a model’s, his blond hair was parted on the side and made interesting with natural sandy lowlights. His chin was stronger than his jaw, and his jaw was no slouch. He dressed like a model too—a snug beige Henley, attractively fitted light-wash jeans, and pale green boat shoes.

She wanted to keep studying him, but his smile was turning into a smirk. She blinked away the impact of his presence.

“I’m sorry; if we’ve met before, I don’t remember where.”

“I’m Ryker Maddox.” He grinned, a flash of pearl. “Your husband.”

Two

Great. The hot guy was a delusional stalker. Just her luck.

Slowly Leslie parted her lips to show her teeth. “I’d definitely rememberthat.”