Page 26 of Fairground (Whitewood Creek Farm #3)

Rae’s been avoiding me.

Can’t say I’m surprised, considering how she reacted after our little steamy dry-hump session by the creek on Wednesday.

I mean, I didn’t expect her to sprint the other direction when I saw her last night at the Boys and Girls Club, but hey, a guy can’t win 'em all though I'll try. I can be patient when I need to be.

That—and let’s be honest—I like the chase. I like making Rae blush, watching her squirm. I like knowing she’s trying so damn hard to fight this thing between us and failing miserably, because she wants me just as bad as I want her.

So today, I know it’s inevitable she’ll show up at the fairgrounds.

She has to. If she doesn’t, she’s basically forfeiting her position as the future mayor of Whitewood Creek and skipping out on her duties.

And no way in hell is Rae giving that up—not over a fully-clothed humping session and an orgasm.

I catch her scent before I see her, the faint hint of vanilla and sweet cherries on the breeze.

She’s close. I grunt as I haul up one of the heavy pegs alongside Colt, adjusting it just right as we pull the main admissions tent into place.

We may keep up several of these for summer festivals and farmer's markets, but there are still a few that need set-up before the fair can happen and that’s what I’m focusing on today.

My shirt’s off, because obviously, it’s hot as hell out here even if it’s October, and I’m not about to suffer unnecessarily, but I also love the way Rae looks at me when I'm shirtless. The way that her eyes linger on my back and pecs.

When she finally comes into view, my whole day gets better.

She’s wearing a pair of denim jeans and a cream-colored shirt that’s just a shade or two lighter than her skin.

But not just any jeans— brown jeans. To anyone else, that might not mean much, but to me, a man who hasn’t been able to keep his eyes off her since the day she rolled into town, it’s everything.

Her clothing is lighter and she's lighter. A little less wound up. A little bit happier.

And it hits me how much I’ve missed seeing that smile, even if it barely lasts more than a second.

How much I’ve wanted her near me again, even if she keeps me at arm’s length.

Rae’s got this habit of pretending she’s unaffected by everyone, like her whole life is built on invisible walls.

But I’ve felt the cracks. Heard the little noises she makes when she forgets to be guarded and is at ease.

I know how she tastes when her mouth’s open with need.

And I sure as hell know how tightly she clings when she thinks I won’t notice.

“What can I help with?” she says, marching right up to me like nothing happened between us.

Like I didn’t have her pressed up against me a few nights ago, sucking on her tits and biting one of her nipples.

Like I haven’t been walking around since then, half-distracted, wondering how wet and warm her heat would feel wrapped around my cock.

I blink, trying to keep my thoughts from derailing into Cisco’s Thong Song territory. Because right now, I’d pay good money to trade places with whatever’s under those jeans.

She stares at me, waiting for an answer, and I know better than to tell her not to lift a finger and that the big, strong men can handle it. Rae’s stubborn as hell, and I’m not about to set her off before noon. I'll save that for later tonight when I can calm her down in private.

“Can you meet with the inspectors?” I ask, leaning casually on the nearest post. “They’re checking all the rides we’ve installed, making sure everything’s up to code. If there’s an issue, we’ll need to call Rhett in.”

“Rhett?” she asks, brow quirking.

“Yeah. Town plumber-slash-mechanic. He’ll know how to fix anything that fails or submit the right work order to get it fixed in time.”

She mutters something under her breath—probably about how this town runs like a bad sitcom where one guy has every job—and stomps off toward the rides. I watch her go for a moment longer than I should, the sway of her hips all but hypnotic and the swish of her pretty, light brown hair.

Colt snaps me out of it with a snort from behind me as he hammers the final peg into the ground. “You’re in deep.”

I ignore him, giving the peg a firm shake to make sure it’s solid before wiping the sweat off my brow.

The day’s cooled off some since we started, and the gray clouds overhead promise rain.

Most people hate rain in the autumn—makes everything colder, the wet leaves sticking to roads and turning them slick and the first chill that settles into your bones promising a cold winter—but I’ve never minded it.

Wouldn’t even mind one last good downpour before the fair to freshen things up and bring a little green back to the earth.

But as Rae disappears into the crowd, all I can think about are the ways I could keep her warm this winter.

The ways I want to spend the colder days and even colder nights, wrapped up in her.

Maybe that’s the part she doesn’t get yet.

This isn’t just about having sex to me. I mean, sure, I want her in my bed, on my truck, up against every flat surface we can find, but it’s more.

I want the in-between stuff too. I want her in my kitchen, cooking eggs from my hens, and arguing with me about the nicknames I created for her.

I want the mornings after to be with her staying in my bed. The silences that aren’t uncomfortable. The weight of her head on my chest when she sleeps. I want her to feel comfortable sharing every part of her life with me.

“What was that?” Colt grumbles beside me.

“What do you mean?”

“You two are... awkward.”

“I’m not awkward with anyone.”

He lets out a deep, knowing chuckle. “I know something happened between you two. So, what’s your game here, Cash?”

“There’s no game.” I grin. “I like her.”

“I can tell.”

“She’s different.”

He nods, his hammer swinging loosely in one hand. “That she is. Not your usual type.”

“Maybe I never knew my type until Rae showed up in town.”

Colt shakes his head, already smirking. “You’re fucked.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Before he can needle me more, a sharp scream splits the air, echoing across the fairgrounds.

“What the hell was that?” I bark to Colt.

We’re moving before the words even settle, sprinting toward the sound.

A small crowd has already formed around one of the smaller tents.

It takes me a second to realize what's happening but when I do, I see that Rae and another woman from the committee are pinned beneath the sagging fabric and one of the heavy metal pegs.

“Motherfucker,” I shout, scanning the mess. “Who let them put this up without any support?”

No one answers, just a lot of blank stares and shrugging shoulders as Colt and I dive in.

We grab at the fabric, hauling it back while yanking the peg free.

Casey, the other woman, coughs violently, her face red and streaked with dirt, but she seems mostly unharmed.

Rae, though... Rae’s ribs took the brunt of the mess.

“We’re fine. I’m fine,” Rae says, her voice steady as she struggles to stand up on her own.

But I’m not fine. Not even a little.

Before she can argue with me, I scoop her up in my arms like she weighs nothing. She lets out a startled sound but doesn’t fight me as I stalk off toward an empty tent nearby leaving everyone else and the chaos that needs cleaned up behind.

“What are you doing?” she hisses, her words sharp.

I don’t stop, not until we’re inside and the flap has closed behind us.

I set her down on the edge of a folding table and yank up the hem of her shirt before she can stop me to see how bad it is.

My jaw tightens at the sight of her ribs, already blooming with angry bruises.

My fingers skim the ink scrawled across her side—a delicate tattoo that reads I am enough in pretty writing.

Fuck me.

Something about seeing it stops the anger cold.

Just shuts it down. And yet it guts me at the same time.

The words, the vulnerability etched into her skin, the war she’s clearly fought to believe them—it wrecks me.

Completely fucking wrecks me. Because she is enough.

More than enough. And I know it’s not my job to fix the cracks left by people who should’ve been safe.

Should’ve loved her better. But damn it, I want to.

My fingers trace the ink as her breathing picks up, her chest rising and falling like it’s tied to the storm building between us. Her lips part, but before either of us can speak, the flap of the tent rustles open.

“Everything okay in here?” Mrs. Mayberry’s voice cuts through the moment like a chainsaw in a wedding cake. Just making a mess of everything I intended on telling her that I’ve been wanting to.

Rae practically jumps out of her skin, yanking her shirt down and shoving my hands away.

“Yes! I’m fine!” she squeaks, her voice way too high and chipper to be convincing. "Just a little fall. All is well."

Mrs. Mayberry squints at her but doesn’t push while my eyes remain locked on Rae's.

“Well, the tents are all set up now, and the bandstand is complete. Just need you to sign off on the inspector’s findings and call Rhett if any replacements are needed. We’re heading out before the storm rolls in. Looks like it might be a nasty one. Anything else you two need before we meet again?”

“Nope, that’s great. Thanks,” Rae says, smoothing her shirt and hair like she’s in front of a mirror, not a nosy, older neighbor who loves to talk, and the woman heading up most of the committee we're supposed to be leading.

Mrs. Mayberry nods, eyeing us one last time before ducking out of the tent. Rae jumps off the table and bolts for the exit too, but I catch her name on my lips before she can disappear.

“Rae.”

She pauses, her back to me, her shoulders stiff.

“Find me by the slides when you’re done with the sign-off.”

She hesitates, just long enough for me to think she's going to back out, then gives a small nod without meeting my eyes.

She doesn’t look back as she disappears through the tent flap, leaving me standing there, still tasting her name on my tongue and praying like hell she’ll show.