Page 23 of Hello Trouble

DELLA

I was starting to wonder if agreeing to this date with Hayes was a really bad idea.

We weren’t exactly friends—although I did enjoy sneaking girly stuff into his house—so it wasn’t like there was a close friendship on the line.

But I was best friends with his sister-in-law.

I counted his family as my friends. Would things be awkward at weekend get-togethers, events at Maya’s school, summer little league games, and birthday parties if this went badly?

But before I could back out or overthink it anymore, my doorbell sang its happy song.

Hayes was here.

My heart rate picked up, even as I double-checked my hair in the mirror in all its natural, curly glory, and then continued to the door.

When I opened it, my jaw dropped. Hayes was holding a colorful bouquet of flowers in a shiny, disco ball vase.

“You got me flowers?” I asked.

His smile had a hint of hope to it. “Do you like them?”

“I love them, and the vase is exactly my style,” I said honestly. “Thank you. Let me set this on the table.” I carried the pretty arrangement to my table, excited at the fact that I’d get to look at it for the coming week—and keep the vase forever. “Did you have help picking it out?”

His lips lifted slightly as he said, “Bora let me pick.”

My heart warmed, and I felt... seen. Bennett had shown up with carnations that I needed to arrange and put in my own vase.

But Hayes had gotten me something I’d truly enjoy without giving me a chore.

I admired the display on my thrifted table runner.

It had fake blue dragonflies flitting about the surface, and the flowers matched perfectly. “Thank you, Hayes,” I said again.

“You’re welcome,” he said warmly. Now that I had examined the flowers, I could appreciate his looks. He’d worn a pair of black jeans, a gray shirt, and a denim jacket with the sleeves rolled. Mixed with the smell of his cologne and the spark in his blue eyes, I was already melting.

We walked together out of the house, and I was pleasantly surprised to see that his motorcycle wasn’t waiting in the driveway. Instead, he’d driven his pickup. And he even came to my side of the truck and opened the door for me.

It was strange—this surly guy being all chivalrous. “Who are you and what have you done with Hayes Madigan?” I teased as I sat in the seat.

He stood at the door, leaning his head against the frame. “Today, it’s just Hayes.”

I lifted a corner of my lips as he shut my door and went around to his side. Over the treetops that framed my house, I caught a glimpse of clear blue sky with white wispy clouds. The weather had given a ten percent chance of rain, but I highly doubted it.

As we pulled away from my house and got closer to Main Street, it hit me what a big deal this date was.

Hayes hadn’t asked me out and then taken me to some dark and dingy bar the next town over so we could have some privacy.

He’d brought me to the busiest event in Cottonwood Falls where everyone would see us together.

The thought had my heart racing just as much as his appearance... his smile. No matter how much I’d tried to tamp down my desire for him before today, it was definitely showing up in full force now in this pickup cab.

I tried to steady my nerves while he found a parking spot a few blocks away from Main Street, which had been blocked off and lined with vendors.

When we got out of the truck and walked down the sidewalk, I half expected him to keep his distance.

Instead, he easily caught my hand in his, lacing his calloused fingers through mine.

I looked over at him, surprised both at the gesture and at the spark I felt, and found him smiling softly back at me. “Is this okay?”

The question, his gentle expression, was so at odds with him—all tattoos and piercings and rough edges. But I was starting to realize there was more to Hayes than met the eye. “I like it,” I admitted.

With a pleased smile, he squeezed my hand and said, “What would you like to do?”

I thought that over. I’d been coming to the festival for literal decades now, so I said, “Usually I get my face painted first. The profits go to pay medical bills for people in the community.”

“Let’s do it,” he said.

I raised my eyebrows. “Really?”

He gestured at his arms, covered in tattoos. “You think I have an issue with body art?”

I chuckled. “I guess not.”

We walked together toward the tent on the corner of Main and Second that always housed the face painters. The artists were all kids in the high school art classes, and they got extra credit for painting.

The line was already starting to grow, and I was eager to wait in line with Hayes.

As a single gal, you got used to looking for red flags that hinted at a guy’s personality.

Being kind to waitstaff was a big one. But so was being kind while waiting in line.

I couldn’t stand someone who acted like they deserved to be right at the front or grumbled the entire time, making the wait miserable.

I glanced over at Hayes. “Long line,” I said noncommittally.

“Yeah.” He paused. “You know what I like to do in lines?”

I raised my eyebrows. This was new. “What?”

“I look around and see if I can find the alphabet. It’s a game Fletcher used to play with us, although I’m guessing he learned it from Mom.”

My heart tweaked at the mention, at the soft look in his eyes. I knew his mom had passed of cancer when he was young. “A game sounds fun,” I said.

“Shall we play together?” he asked. “Bet I’ll get more letters.”

I chuckled. “I don’t see why not.”

After about ten minutes of racing to find letters and laughing more than I thought I would, Hayes and I were sitting side by side in chairs as the students started painting our skin.

I watched out of the corner of my eye while a girl brushed tiger stripes on his cheeks.

The poor thing’s hands were shaking, and her cheeks were flushed with shyness.

Hayes Madigan wasn’t an easy one to ignore, even if he was just sitting there patiently.

The girl painting a princess crown on my forehead was chatty and talked my ear off about her art project she was working on for her senior capstone. I could hardly get a word in edgewise, which was a first for me.

Eventually, both our faces were painted, and I stood up, getting a view of Hayes’s face. He had a soft pink nose, a white puff of “fur” underneath, and orange and black stripes over his cheeks.

As soon as I giggled, he growled at me, which just made me laugh harder. He paid for our faces and tucked my hand in his while walking out of the tent with me.

So, Hayes was a hand-holder...

He ran his thumb over my skin, making a shiver go up my spine. No one simply holding my hand had ever made me react this way before.

We stalled off to the side of the face painting tent, out of the way of foot traffic. “What now, Della?” he asked, drawing me from my thoughts.

I smiled at the sound of my name on his lips and gestured toward the food trucks lined up farther down the road. “Usually I’d get a cup of cocoa and a funnel cake, but I know how you feel about hot chocolate.”

He rolled his eyes as we weaved through people on the sidewalk. “What if I told you that you were right?”

My eyebrows rose, and somewhere in the back of my mind I knew it must have lifted the crown painted on my forehead slightly. “ What ?”

“The mint hot chocolate is the best. Don’t make me drink the regular kind.”

I shrieked, utterly satisfied that he finally admitted it. “I knew I was right.” A few people stared as they were passing by, but Hayes didn’t seem to notice.

He gave me an amused look. “Ah, so you’re that kind of girl.”

“What kind?”

“The ‘I told you so’ kind.”

I chuckled. “Aren’t we all? Not saying ‘I told you so’ takes all the fun out of being right.”

He was smiling, but he didn’t argue and guided us through the people mingling about toward our next destination.

Farther down Main Street, there were several tables set up and food trucks pulled into a circle in the biggest intersection.

I pointed out a red truck that had been my favorite year after year.

This close, I could smell the food coming from the truck, and it made my mouth water as we stood together in line.

Hayes wasn’t much for small talk, which was fine.

It was easy just to stand hand in hand with him.

He only let go of my fingers to pay. And I was feeling a little spoiled by him.

I glanced away to keep him from seeing my flushed cheeks, and that’s when I noticed my parents together in line at a different food truck.

And they saw me standing with Hayes, our hands linked. Dad looked pissed, and Mom wrung her hands worriedly.

Hayes followed my gaze, a worried look knitting his eyebrows. “Should I?—”

“Let me talk to them,” I whispered to him. “I’ll meet you at a table.”

I had to handle this before things got even more awkward.