Page 34 of Fairground (Whitewood Creek Farm #3)

Cash : I want you so bad it fucking hurts. How has it been a whole week since you rode my face? ?

Rae : Um… I’m with your brother right now! You can't text me stuff like that!

Cash : You didn’t ask me where it hurts at.

Rae : ….

Cash : In my cock. And my balls. That’s where it hurts.

Rae : Your brother is looking at me suspiciously!

Cash : Which one do I have to beat up for looking at my girl?

Rae : None of them. I actually like everyone that I've met.

Cash : Well then, I know you're not talking about Troy’s grumpy ass or my emotionless, felon brother.

Rae : That’s not a nice way to speak about your brothers.

Cash : It’s true. So, why are you with Lawson?

Rae : Mayor’s float.

Cash : Oh, what are you making for us to ride in?

Rae : It’s a surprise.

Cash : As your cohort in this state fair planning, I feel like I should have a sneak peek or at least a hint.

Rae : Fine, one clue.

Rae : *Sends picture*

Cash : Fuck. Is that your ass in those tight as shit Levi’s jeans?

Cash : It better be your ass because if it isn’t, I’m jerking off to someone else’s ass right now.

Rae : Cash!

Cash : Tell me right now.

Rae : Chill. Yes, it’s my ass.

Cash : So am I riding in a giant float of your ass because if so, 1. I love it. Great idea. Super creative. I can’t believe I didn’t think about that though I'm not going to be pleased that the whole town is going to be looking at a gigantic replica of that fine ass.

Cash : Also, not cool with Lawson helping you create it, he won't get the dimensions right, and 2. I’m glad you’re into ass play. So am I. Let’s play inside of your ass float and then let me play in your ass later tonight.

Rae : Cash!

Rae : We are NOT riding in a gigantic cut out of my ass.

Cash : Damn, too bad because I’m jerking off to that image. About to come so baby tell me what your ass has to do with our float other than the fact that it’s making my cock float up to the fucking ceiling right now?

Rae : It’s a pumpkin, Cash. We’re riding in a carved out pumpkin. Thought you’d get that from the shape of my ass because you said it looked like a juicy pumpkin the other night.

Cash : Baby all I can think about is your juicy ass on my face now. I want to eat your ass.

Rae : Down dog. What are you doing other than jerking off?

Cash : About to go over to the distillery to test out the new holiday flavors of whiskey that Colt’s brewed up. I created a surprise flavor just for you.

Rae : Oh yeah? What’s it called?

Cash : Not telling you. I refuse to taste test it without you. I want the first taste of it to be off your lips.

Rae : How’s that going to work? Am I going to baby bird it to you? Take the shot and then spit it into your mouth?

Cash : I was talking about your other lips. The ones that are inside of those jeans.

Rae : Behave.

Cash : Don't know how to do that around you. Now bring some leftover pumpkin filling to my house so I can lick that off your tits and ass tonight.

Rae : Okay, pie fetish.

◆◆◆

I laugh and shake my head, sliding my phone back into the snug pocket of my pants.

When I glance up, I catch Lawson’s gaze from across the parade float we’ve been sweating over all afternoon.

He grins but doesn’t say a word, turning his focus back to the power tools he’s hauled out to the city hall parking lot.

The buzz of the saw blends with the chatter and hammering from the other businesses working on their floats.

Apparently, this parade is the event of the year in Whitewood Creek—a chance for the town to come together, celebrate local businesses, and rally around their end-of-year sales goals.

More than that, it’s the prelude to the State Fair kicking off next weekend.

I’ll admit, I didn’t think much of it when Cash first brought it up, but seeing the twenty or so elaborate floats already parked here, primed and ready for tomorrow night, I get it. This isn’t just a parade; it’s a spectacle. It's small town life at its finest.

“Almost done,” Lawson calls out, his voice carrying over the hum of activity.

He’s standing on the other side of our massive pumpkin float we created together, finishing the final touches on the wooden eagle centerpiece—a nod to the bird that played a crucial role in the founding of Whitewood Creek and one of the first things I remember noticing when I moved here.

The whine of his blade grows louder as I brush on the last strokes of orange paint, stepping back to admire the spectacle.

It’s massive, perched securely on a trailer that Lawson will be pulling behind his truck.

Inside, there’s a small couch we scavenged from the bar renovations—one Lawson and I lugged over after what I swear was way too much convincing on his part that it “adds character if you and Cash get tired of standing at the top and waving.”

And yes, we also rigged up a simple ladder system leading to the top opening of the pumpkin, where Cash and I will stand tomorrow night, waving to the crowd like some ridiculous pumpkin, Cinderella royalty.

Across the back, in my not-so-perfect handwriting, I’ve painted the words: Welcome, Autumn, and Your Future Mayor of Whitewood Creek.

I’m proud of it, even if it’s a little over the top and something I would never have done at my last job.

But let’s be honest, time hasn’t exactly been on my side.

Between state fair planning, answering emails, taking care of my nephews, and, well…

spending nearly every night wrapped up in Cash, brainstorming float ideas wasn’t at the top of my to-do list. Not that Cash helped much.

His mind’s been occupied with other priorities—namely, me and finding new and creative ways to bring me to orgasm.

Every night since that moment in the egg barn, we’ve managed to steal a few hours for ourselves. Sometimes he swings by to pick me up. Other nights, I sneak over once Laken’s home, timing my arrival just after Mr. Marshall’s gone to bed. Or at least, supposedly gone to bed.

He’s caught me twice now—once slipping in, once slipping out. Both times, he just gave me a slow, knowing nod and a little wave, like I was some neighbor kid cutting through his yard. Meanwhile, I turned ten shades of red and practically sprinted to or from the truck.

Cash? He just smirked and muttered something about the old man needing to mind his damn business. Meanwhile, I’m still not sure what we’re doing and much of the time I spend away from Cash is spent wondering where this is headed. And where I want it to go.

“It looks good,” Lawson says, stepping around to admire the backside of the pumpkin float. His gaze lingers on the painted slogan, and a faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” I say, setting the paintbrush aside and wiping my hands on an old rag. “Really, Lawson. I can’t thank you enough for all your help.”

He shrugs as he leans against the trailer. “Just doing my part for the future mayor.”

I snort, shaking my head, but there’s a flicker of warmth in my chest. Lawson’s been a solid teammate through all this chaos. Between him and Cash—when he’s not too busy distracting me —I feel like I might have a chance at pulling this off and gaining the town’s trust.

Lawson is by far the quietest of the Marshall brothers.

It’s surprising, considering he’s the Sales and Marketing Executive for the family businesses.

Tall with light brown hair the same shade as Colt’s, but a little longer, and warm, hazel eyes that match Cash’s.

He’s classically handsome, broad-shouldered, and easygoing—a really nice guy all around.

“So, what’s the plan for your family’s float?” I ask.

“We’ll resurrect the same one we did last year. Regan and Colt are managing it this year.”

“What’s that?”

His grin turns a little mischievous. “A massive egg with a chicken hatching out of it.”

“Sounds adorable,” I say, laughing.

He raises a brow. “I see Cash has already gotten to you with his love for those chicks.”

I blush, feeling warmth creep up my neck at the thought of Cash and his chicks. There’s no way Lawson could know about all the times that Cash and I have been hooking up in the barn, could he?

Of course not, that’s ridiculous.

“You don’t like them?”

“They’re fine. I just don’t love them the way Cash does. You know, when we first get a new batch of baby chicks, he sleeps in there with them.”

I blink; I’m sure that I’ve misheard him because... what?

“He… he what?” My heart stutters.

Lawson chuckles like he knows it sounds a little wild.

“Yeah. Wants to make sure they all make it through the night and eat enough. Sleeps on the floor next to their little home. One year, he woke up with tiny pecks all over him. He was so exhausted he didn’t even notice the chicks were trying to make him their next meal. Damn little baby dinosaurs.”

“That’s…” I trail off, shaking my head as a soft laugh escapes me. “That’s probably the most surprising and adorable thing I’ve ever heard.”

Lawson levels me with a knowing look, his smile gentle. “You two seem good for each other. Just don't let this competition ruin things between you, yeah?”

And just like that, he strolls off, leaving me standing there with nothing but a gigantic orange pumpkin, an eagle perched on top, and a whirlwind of questions I’ve been avoiding.

What happens if I lose?

What happens if I win?

What happens when Laken doesn’t need me anymore?

And what exactly is this thing that's brewing between Cash and me?