Page 24 of Fairground (Whitewood Creek Farm #3)

It’s been two days since I last saw Cash.

While I’d love to keep hiding out with my nephews—ferrying them to school activities, crashing into bed early to watch a spooky movie, spending time reading, ‘working on myself’ with my vibrator, and avoiding thoughts of our upcoming Saturday meeting—I need a distraction.

Saturday will come soon enough, and with it, the committee check-in at the fairgrounds to review the progress on rides, entertainment, and the final setup of tents.

But today, I need something to keep me busy so that I don’t spend all day thinking about Cash. That single, hot kiss that I can’t wipe from my memory, and the look in his eyes while I grinded on his denim jeans like a horny teenager.

Which is how I find myself enroute to the Boys & Girls Club of Whitewood Creek , North Carolina , to meet up with Lydia and Colt’s fiancée, Molly—a woman I know entirely too much about, including the time of the month when she ovulates.

I turn into the club’s paved parking lot where the large, warehouse-style building looms ahead, surrounded by cars and trees that are shedding their leaves.

This is the same place Lydia told me that she first met Colt—here on parole, working to give back to the community as part of his sentence requirements.

I could’ve walked from Laken’s house, but it’s a bit farther than I’d like, and with daylight savings time looming, it gets darker earlier than I care for most nights.

Hopping out of the car, I spot Lydia half-hanging out the glass front door, her long blonde curls whipping in the wind and a pair of green plastic-framed glasses perched on her nose that are giving her some sort of sexy-librarian vibe.

“You came!” she calls out, her excitement way too much for what we’re doing.

I smile as I approach. “Of course I did. Though, if I’m being honest, it’s not entirely for the kids. I need a distraction, and I think this might be the organization that the state fair committee should choose for their fundraiser this year.”

She squeals, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “That would be amazing! I’ll introduce you to Kenny later—the director of the club. He’s a fantastic guy, and I bet he’d be thrilled with the nomination.”

“Well,” I say, smiling cautiously, “I haven’t talked to Cash about it yet, but that’s what I’m hoping for. I plan to bring it to a vote at tomorrow’s committee meeting.”

Lydia beams. “I don’t think Cash will have any complaints. He volunteers here sometimes too.”

I frown because I didn’t know that but of course he does.

If he’s not showing up to every high school sporting event, working shifts at the town’s beloved bar slinging drinks, or taking care of baby chicks with his way too big, too rough hands, then he’s here at the Boys & Girls Club, being a big brother to the littles who probably adore him and want to be just like him. The guy just oozes good karma.

My stomach twists with sudden panic. Tonight was supposed to be about getting advice from Lydia, my only friend in this town, not running into the man that I’ve been actively avoiding and need advice about.

“Um… he’s not here tonight, is he?” I ask, trying to sound casual and failing spectacularly.

Her brows knit together, and her eyes narrow like she’s trying to figure out why I would be asking that.

Yeah, so much for subtlety.

“No… is that okay?”

“Oh, yeah, totally fine. Totally.” My voice pitches slightly, and I know I’m not convincing her or anyone else who’s listening.

She studies me for a moment longer before tugging on my arm and dragging me inside. “Come on. Let’s go see the littles. I have just the one to pair you with.”

***

Thirty minutes and five rounds of The Game of Life later, I’m sitting cross-legged on the floor, losing for the fifth time to the eleven-year-old that Lydia thought would be ‘perfect’ for my first volunteer event.

The little girl smirks triumphantly as she glances at my overstuffed car full of tiny pink and blue people.

“You’ve had, like, seven babies. They're stacked on top off each other. No wonder you’re losing. Kids are expensive.”

I laugh. “What do you know about that?”

She shrugs nonchalantly. “I read stuff. Did you know that parents spend roughly three thousand dollars on diapers in the first two years of a baby’s life.”

I raise a brow. And now I’m wondering—what exactly is this eleven-year-old reading for fun? Before I can ask for more details, her eyes light up, and she bolts from her spot, sprinting toward someone behind me.

I spin around, and there he is. Colt Marshall. The youngest of the infamous Marshall family.

His massive frame barrels forward like a freaking monster truck, and Jenni—my child nemesis for the night—throws her arms around his waist because that’s as high as she can reach.

He chuckles, the sound deep and warm, as a wide smile spreads across his handsome face.

It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him smile, and it’s. .. disarming.

Then another figure steps out from behind him—a woman, a couple inches taller than me, thin with curves in all the right places, and jet-black hair that falls straight down her back.

When her eyes meet mine, a chill races through me.

They’re so freaking blue. Like the Gulf of Mexico. The shade of them is unsettling.

Spooky.

My immediate conclusion? If just her eyes can spook me that badly, I have no choice but to make her my friend because I love spooky things.

“Hi. You must be Rae,” she says warmly, stepping forward in her cool cargo pants and simple white t-shirt, flashing an easy smile.

“I’m Molly Marshall. I’ve heard a lot about you,” she says with a smile, though she barely gets the words out before she pulls me into a hug like we’re long-lost friends instead of complete strangers.

A week ago, I would’ve stiffened, awkwardly patted her back, and made a mental note to avoid future encounters at all costs.

But now? After surviving the chaos of county fair prep and finally settling into the rhythm of Whitewood Creek, I find myself leaning into it.

Just a little bit. Because this is what people do here.

They hug without hesitation. They offer warmth before they know if you’re a serial killer. And, surprisingly, I don’t hate it.

Plus, she smells good, like cinnamon and pumpkin, and despite me knowing that she's an officer of the law, I get the feeling being married to an ex-felon means she's also cool as shit.

“Hey,” Colt grunts, skipping the pleasantries of a hug and extending a fist instead. I bump it, grateful for the need to not show any more physical affection. Between Molly and Lydia, I'm tapped out for the night and would be okay with no one else touching me.

Jenni’s tucked under one of Colt’s big arms protectively, grinning at him like he hung the moon and that’s when I realize why they’re here.

“Are you Jenni’s usual Bigs? She mentioned that a couple usually comes for Wednesday nights to play games with her.” I glance between him and Molly.

Molly smiles warmly. “As much as we can be, yeah. We try to make it down here as often as possible to hang with Jenni.”

Jenni practically glows under their attention, her grin wide enough to light up the room.

It’s obvious these three have some history and watching Colt soften like this is fascinating.

He’s like a human wall most of the time, big, scary, and quiet, but around Jenni?

There’s a story there. One I’d bet good money on.

“She kicked my ass,” I stage-whisper, pointing toward the Game of Life board that’s behind us.

Colt smirks, shaking his head. “That’s the initiation fee for joining the Boys & Girls Club.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely seeing that now.”

“Hey,” Molly cuts in, wrapping a protective arm around Jenni’s shoulder. “You want to go grab some soda and pizza with me? Maybe the soda won’t be flat this time.”

Jenni lights up, and the two of them disappear into the crowd of kids and adults, chatting away like old friends. Meanwhile, I sink back into my seat, feeling the weight of Colt’s presence as he settles across the table from me.

"Is the pizza any good?"

"I wouldn't chance it unless you want a date with the toilet tonight," he says shaking his head.

"Good to know."

“So…” His voice is low, casual, but there’s a gleam in his eye that makes me instantly wary. I barely have time to brace myself before he leans forward and drops the bomb of his question. “Cash can’t shut up about you and now I need to know why.”

I blink, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, probably because I’m a pain in the ass, emailing him at all hours about this damn State fair. Two weeks left, and we’re still knee-deep in planning.”

Colt rubs his jaw, his scruff just enough to be noticeable. Where Cash’s beard is thicker, darker—a perfect black mask I may or may not have imagined rubbing against my skin—or sitting on—Colt’s is lighter, trimmed close to his face, more restrained. But the way he's studying me right now?

Yeah, not so restrained.

“Nah, that’s not it,” he says, his voice calm, almost amused. “My brother doesn’t talk about women. He hooks up with them. That’s it. No names, no stories, no mentions. Lots of inappropriate comments to me, but never to them.”

And that’s exactly when Molly reappears, sliding into the seat next to him. I feel trapped, pinned under the weight of their gazes from across the table, and suddenly, it feels less like casual conversation and more like an interrogation.

“Where’s Jenni?” I blurt, my voice an octave higher than usual. My mouth is dry, and I have to wet my lips because all I can think about is what happened with Cash the last time that I saw him down by the creek outside their home.

The orgasm I had in his lap still burns bright in my memory.

I’m too scared to face him again because the way things were left was…

weird. Why didn’t he let me take care of him too?

Why didn’t he kiss me goodbye? Hell, the only kiss we shared was the first one.

And then he’d lifted me like I weighed nothing, set me on his very hard cock, and made me feel like I was flying while I literally dry-humped his jeans to bliss.

How embarrassing.

And the worst part? I have no one to ask these questions to. Lydia’s gone MIA, probably off chasing kids or charming someone into a volunteer shift, and Laken’s been buried in work. Plus, she’d 100% judge me for hooking up with the town’s golden boy slash my not-so-friendly rival.

So here I am, left with exactly one option: Cash’s massive, ex-felon brother—who could probably break me in half with one hand—and his cop wife, whose eyes are so intense I feel like she’s reading my soul.

It’s mildly terrifying. And yet, somehow, weirdly comforting.

Like if anyone could handle my unraveling, it’s probably them. They’ve certainly seen some shit.

“Jenni’s playing with the kids,” Molly says casually, but the look on her face tells me everything. This is a set-up and I'm about to be under arrest if I don't tell them something. I wonder if she’d use the cuffs on me.

I feel like I’d enjoy that way too much.

My laugh comes out nervous and pitchy. “Oh, ha-ha, cool.”

Her eyes narrow, sharp as a knife. Maybe deciding to be friends with a cop wasn’t my best idea. A cop and an ex-felon—what a duo.

“Something happened,” Molly says, tapping her finger against her chin like she’s solving a murder.

“Nothing happened,” I squeak, my voice cracking like I’m a teenage boy at choir practice.

“It wasn’t a question. It was a statement,” she replies flatly.

Oh .

Shit.