Page 35 of Fairground (Whitewood Creek Farm #3)

The big weekend is finally here: the parade that kicks off the Whitewood Creek, North Carolina, State Fair.

I wasn't sure what to expect, but this… this is so much more than I ever could’ve imagined.

The streets are alive with harvest season magic—pumpkins, rich reds, warm oranges, golden yellows, and lush greens decorate every corner.

Loud country music hums in the air, blending perfectly with the sound of children laughing and running freely, their parents at ease.

Dancers twirl through the streets, and bursts of joy ripple everywhere.

It’s like stepping into a Hallmark movie.

The small shops I once rolled my eyes at—so quaint and overly particular—now strike me as charming, their window displays glowing with pride. I even smile at the coffee shop where I was almost food poisoned by that awful, orange coffee.

I'm joking, but I know you remember that well. It still sends a shiver through my core when I think about how it tasted.

The whole scene is idyllic, almost surreal.

It fills my fall-loving heart and makes me realize something I hadn’t fully admitted to myself: this feels like my home now.

Maybe for good, if things go well with the mayoral race.

And that thought no longer terrifies me or sends me spiraling into a world where I think I’m failing by living here.

If anything, it makes me feel like I’m winning.

Before I see him, I feel him. Cash’s familiar scent wraps around me like a hug, followed by his strong arms pulling me firmly against his chest.

“Cash!” I laugh, spinning in his grip, trying to wriggle free, but his hands stay locked on my hips, holding me close. “We’re supposed to be rivals! What’s everyone going to think if they see us like this?”

“Don’t care,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss me. I dodge him smoothly, slipping out of his grasp before those soft lips can steal my breath away like they've been doing for the past week.

“I do,” I say, my tone turning serious. “I don’t want people thinking I’m just Mr. Whitewood Creek’s newest plaything and not serious about this job. I need to win this race because I earned it.”

His brows furrow slightly, and I can see he understands now why I'm not trying to cause a scene even if he doesn’t like it. “I get it,” he says with a soft nod. “I wish you didn’t see it that way, but I understand why you do. I’m not trying to mess up the campaign for you. I’ve just missed you.”

A shy smile tugs at my lips as I glance around to make sure no one’s watching. “I missed you too. Now, get back to our float. I’ll see you in ten minutes.”

He grins, striding off confidently in the opposite direction, and I take a moment to soak in the cheerful chaos of the crowd.

“Was that Cash Marshall that I just saw you chatting up all lovey-dovey?” my sister’s voice calls out behind me. I turn to see her with my two wild nephews in tow, their faces sticky with candied apples and what looks like pumpkin slushies. Gross.

“It was,” I admit with a shrug.

She knows well that Cash has spent the night at her house a few times, sneaking in after the boys have gone to sleep, but we still haven't had a conversation about it. I’m not sure if she’s waiting for me to bring it up to her or if she’d rather not know.

Either way, I’m glad she hasn’t pressed because I don’t know what I’d say.

That my heart is falling for him? That I want to be more than just another one of his casual hook-ups? That I realize now there’s much more to him than just his silly, flirty personality?

That I don’t know what this means for how long I’ll stay here?

She raises a brow but doesn’t press. Instead, she shrugs off three folding chairs strapped to her back and plops them onto the sidewalk. “

Well, I can’t wait to see your mayor float. Break a leg!” she says, pulling me in for a quick hug before settling in with the boys.

I weave through the bustling crowd toward the float lineup.

Ours is near the front—just two spots behind a massive eagle float that leads the parade and the wobbly coffee mug float from the mom-and-pop shop I visited my first week here.

Apparently, that thing’s been in every parade for the last thirty years, duct tape and all.

Explains the poisonous drinks they make.

Reaching our float, I climb the small steps into the giant pumpkin centerpiece and immediately spot the two ladders leading up to the opening at the top.

I frown, muttering to myself, “We could’ve thought this through a little better,” because looking at it now in this light, well that looks like a fall risk waiting to happen.

Cash laughs from behind me. “It’s perfect,” he says, joining me in the center of the pumpkins' belly. “Though I might need to hold onto you the whole time, just to make sure you don’t fall off.”

"Yeah, I'm sure that's why," I say with a smirk.

I hoist myself up, popping my head through the top opening and look around at the crowd.

There's a faint breeze in the air, that sharp crisp that welcomes autumn and it feels like it, too. Cash squeezes in beside me, his broad shoulders bumping the edges. I glance at him with an amused grin. “Yeah, we definitely didn’t think about accommodating your linebacker build.”

He wiggles his shoulders playfully, bumping into me each time, then his hands find my hips under the cover of the pumpkin where no one can see us.

His grip is steady, grounding, and he pulls me closer.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs with a soft, mischievous smile.

“I’ve got you.” And just like that I forget all about where we are and who’s going to be watching us.

Lawson snaps us out of our moment as he hops into the truck at the front of our float and turns it on. “Hang on, you two! And don’t forget to smile and wave!” he calls out with a cheeky grin as we lurch forward.

The crowd erupts into cheers as our float comes into view, rounding the first bend alongside the others.

It’s absolutely ridiculous—something I’d never have pictured myself doing—but I can’t stop the huge grin that's spreading across my face as I wave to the people lining the streets, eager to catch a glimpse of their two mayoral candidates.

People are waving flags wildly, and you can feel the energy that's propelling us towards the State Fair and the gem of our small town.

“That’s a pretty big smile you’ve got there, Emily,” he murmurs in my ear as we wave and smile.

“Emily?” I ask, still grinning ear to ear like a wild woman despite the fact he just messed up my name.

“Yeah. Emily. From the Corpse Bride .”

I laugh, shaking my head as his grin widens.

We barely make it through the first stretch of street at a slow crawl when I feel his fingers on me again.

I’m wearing a casual-but-cute short, black sweater dress, and under the cover of the pumpkin’s opening, his hand is dancing along the hemline of it, teasing me.

“What are you doing, Cash?” I whisper, careful to keep my lips from giving anything away.

“Just keep waving at the crowd, baby. I got you.”

My legs nearly buckle as his fingers creep higher, brushing against the cotton band of my underwear. He swipes across my pussy once, deliberate and teasing, before finding my clit with uncanny precision through the fabric and pressing down firmly.

“Cash,” I hiss, trying to maintain my composure as he grins at me like the devil himself.

“Bet you didn’t think I could find that without looking.”

I laugh, light and shaky, but before I can respond, his fingers roughly push my underwear aside, leaving me exposed to the cool air inside the pumpkin.

“What if someone opens the door?” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the noise of the parade.

“What if someone…” he swipes his fingers across my soaked opening once, twice, “opens the door to a moving, gigantic pumpkin float,” his tone is all mockery and amusement as he swirls a finger around my clit again, “…and tries to climb inside of it?” Then, without warning, he plunges one finger into me, hard and firm, curling slightly as he drags it back out and then pushes back in with a satisfying squish.

“Oh, God…” My breath catches, and suddenly the crowd, the music, and everything else fade into the background.

“Well, I locked the door,” he murmurs, voice low and dangerous, “and even if someone did try, that’d be some impressive dedication to watching me bring you to orgasm, don’t you think?”

“Be serious, Cash. There’s no way I can orgasm right now,” I whisper, though it comes out more like a moaning beg as his second finger slides in, working me steadily, his thumb brushing over my most sensitive spot with wicked strokes.

“I’m dead serious,” he says, his voice dropping even lower. “Serious about making you come right now while no one knows what's happening beneath here.”

My legs wobble, and his other hand abandons the charade of waving to the crowd, steadying me under the pumpkin’s cover. “Careful there. Can’t have you falling off this ladder before you finish, yeah?”

My lips part, my breathing becomes ragged as his fingers pump deeper, faster.

His palm slaps against my clit with just enough pressure to make me see stars.

I bite my lip to keep from crying out, my vision blurring as I try—and fail—to maintain the illusion of calm and regal.

And just as my orgasm coils tight in my core, ready to explode in front of the whole town, he stops.

“W-what—?” I start to protest, my voice a mix of frustration and disbelief. “But you said?”

He turns to me, a wicked grin lighting up his face. “Oh, I forgot something down here,” he teases, pulling his hand away despite my pleading grip on his wrist.

“Don’t you dare,” I gasp, eyes wide as his grin grows boyish and infuriatingly smug, but he's already inside of the belly of the float and I'm still exposed through the top to the crowd with flushed cheeks and an ache between my legs that I can’t fix.

He easily shakes off my grip as he adjusts himself underneath me, but it’s useless because despite my fear, I want this too. Now I’m left facing the crowd—the very crowd I’m supposed to be impressing—and he's... gone?

And then he’s there.

His large hands grip both of my hips, firm and possessive, while his hot, wet tongue drags through my slit, teasing and tasting me like I’m his last meal.

He’s relentless, lapping at me with broad strokes, while his fingers hook into the elastic of my underwear and drag it back and forth across my clit like a seesaw, the added friction making my knees shake.

I’m teetering on the edge already, barely holding it together as his thumbs press into the soft curves of my ass.

One finger slides lower, brushing against my tight, puckered hole—not entering, just applying enough pressure to send an electric jolt through me.

His beard rasps against my thighs as I feel him rub it everywhere.

It feels like he’s everywhere right now, and the added bonus of not being able to see him or anticipate what he's going to do next only makes all of my senses so much more heightened.

“Cash,” I whisper, but it’s drowned out by the roar of the crowd outside, by the thudding of my heart, and the heat coiling tighter and tighter in my core.

I can't look down at him, that would be too obvious, so I fix my attention ahead instead.

Ahead on the very long stretch of street we still need to cover.

My legs are trembling, the effort to stay upright becoming impossible.

And just when I think I can’t take another second, it hits me—like a train, sharp and all-consuming.

My head dips forward into my hands, my lips parting as I bite back a scream while Cash latches onto my clit with his lips and sucks downward.

I pretend that I'm laughing for the crowd while the waves of my orgasm crash over me like the waves from the citizens of this small town that are putting way too much trust into Cash and I’s ability to be professional.

He doesn’t stop. His tongue and fingers keep working me, milking every ripple of pleasure until I feel like I’m boneless and spent. My body collapses, slipping through the opening of the pumpkin downward, and he catches me easily like he knew I’d fall.

He holds me for only a moment until he's in my ear whispering, “Now get on your hands and knees so I can take you from behind."