Page 3 of Scoop Me Up (Love in Maplewood #7)

Sam

I peered inside the cooler one last time before nodding in satisfaction.

My two gallons of ice cream fit nicely and I poured ice around them.

Once it was securely shut, I closed my hatchback and made my way around the car, sliding onto the driver’s seat.

I didn’t live far from the town square, but it was too far to haul my ice cream by hand, so I buckled in and started the car.

I drove carefully, observing the town’s speed limit so as not to catch the attention of Maplewood’s finest. It would look bad for an elementary school teacher to get a speeding ticket, even an off-duty teacher.

It wasn’t long until I turned onto Main Street and slowed further until I found a parking spot close to where the festival organizers were setting up.

The moment I parked, I spotted Cooper putting a canopy up in his booth space, where he’d be selling his themed artwork during the festival. He caught sight of me quickly.

“Hey! It’s the winner of this year’s ice cream flavor competition, in the flesh.” Cooper stood straighter and clapped a hand on my shoulder.

I rubbed the back of my neck with one hand. “Don’t jinx it.”

“This is your year . I can feel it.”

“What makes you say that?”

Cooper shrugged. “I mean, you win practically every year. You’re going to win this time.

And then they’ll crown you the festival’s champion, again, and every restaurant in town will be begging you for exclusive distribution rights, as usual.

You’ll be able to quit teaching and finally open the ice cream shop of your dreams.”

For a second, I just stood there processing what he’d said, letting myself daydream about actually opening the ice cream shop, just like my grandma always wanted.

I shook my head, clearing the thoughts away.

I liked teaching. It would be amazing to finally hit my goal though… “Don’t jinx it,” I repeated.

Cooper just gave me a little smile, the kind that told me he knew exactly what was going through my mind.

“Right. Don’t jinx it.” He turned to wrestle a table into place.

“Now, don’t just stand there. Give me a hand.

” Once Cooper’s table was set up, I helped him put out the artwork he sold at events.

“So you went with the tamarind one, right? I’m telling you, it’s a winner. ”

“I just hope the judges agree, you know?”

He put a hand on my shoulder. “I know.” We finished setting up his table, joking and chatting the whole time. Once the table was done, Cooper stepped back to admire our handiwork. “Thanks for the help, but shouldn’t you be getting that ice cream somewhere?”

“It’s on plenty of ice, but it probably won’t hurt to get it into storage before the contest.” I glanced at my watch. “I’ve still got an hour before the contest.” He opened his mouth to speak, but I held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t jinx it.”

Cooper mimicked zipping his mouth shut. “No jinxing here.”

I grinned. “Thanks.” A few moments later, I was back at the car, wrestling the cooler out of the hatch.

I wheeled it to the community center building nearby where we’d been told to store the ice cream until it was time for the competition to start.

The building was decked out in American flags and everything red, white, and blue, in honor of Independence Day.

Every year on the Fourth of July, Maplewood held an ice cream festival, a way to beat—or celebrate, depending on who you asked—the summer heat.

As I stepped inside, my ears were bombarded by pop music and a loud voice calling instructions over the music. “That’s it, girls! No, Dee, turn left. Left. ”

Why yes, I thought, that is a troupe of drag queens practicing their routine .

Maplewood was a queer haven and I couldn’t have been more grateful for my hometown.

Pride had been the month before, but then again, Pride was every day when you lived in Maplewood.

It was nice, being surrounded by a community that was not just tolerant but who wholeheartedly embraced you for who you were.

As I loaded my two gallon-sized ice cream containers into the freezer alongside the other contestants’ containers, I sighed.

It was nice, being surrounded by such a loving, close-knit community, but what I really wanted was a relationship.

I wanted to fall in love and to be loved in return.

It felt a little like everyone was falling in love around me and I didn’t know if I’d ever get that lucky.

Don’t be dramatic, I chided myself. I’ll find someone someday, and if not, there’s nothing wrong with being alone. It wasn’t like anyone was ever really alone in Maplewood, anyway.

Once my ice cream was secure, I watched the drag queens practice for a bit longer before wandering around the town square for a little while, saying hello to just about everyone I saw.

By the time I’d made it back around to the community center, Drake was there, acting as emcee and announcing the flavor contest to kick off the ice cream festivities.

Judges were seated behind a long table that was covered with a classic red and white checkered tablecloth and the emcee explained the rules.

Drake stood proudly in front of the growing crowd.

Even at nine in the morning, the ice cream festival was well-attended.

“Each of the five judges will taste every flavor and assign one point to their favorite, with each judge getting a single vote. There will also be an audience voting portion, and your votes will collectively be worth one point. In the event of a tie, Mayor Axlerod will choose the winner, which will be announced tonight just before the fireworks show. Now, are you ready for some samples?”

The crowd cheered and Drake stepped aside.

From a tented-off space nearby, a half dozen people emerged, pushing carts loaded with little sample cups of ice cream.

One person steered their cart to the judges’ table and placed samples in front of each judge before heading into the crowd.

I frowned and counted—there were seven sample cups per judge, which was odd.

Last week they told me there were only six entrants this year.

Before I could think too deeply about it, a little girl’s voice rang out. “Daddy, that’s my teacher! Mix!”

I put on my best teacher's smile and looked around for the girl, whose voice I recognized. As I scanned the crowd, my gaze landed on someone I’d never noticed in town before, holding her hand.

She was a girl from my second-grade class, a part of the school’s summer camp initiative for students with learning difficulties.

Ellie was waving frantically, her eyes wide and her smile genuine.

The guy, who was wearing a dark blue shirt with lemons all over it, had short reddish hair, a strong jaw, and a winning smile to match his daughter’s.

For a second, I practically forgot how to breathe.

My heart thudded in my chest and I blinked a few times to refocus.

“Not now, Bug,” her dad said. “I’m sure your teacher is enjoying summer break without being surrounded by kids.”

“Come on, Daddy.” She tugged his hand, pulling him toward me. A moment later, they stopped in front of me.

“It’s okay,” I offered. “She’s in my summer class. Right, Ellie?” When she nodded, I smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Ellie’s dad.”

“It’s Gabe,” he said with a self-conscious chuckle, extending his hand to shake. “Gabe Winslow. I take it you already know Ellie, Mr.…”

“ Mix , Daddy.”

He looked at Ellie and then back at me, brow furrowing in confusion again. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m non-binary. My students call me Mix.

It’s like mister or miss, just not gender specific.

But you can call me Sam.” I shook his hand, and for a second, it felt like he didn’t want to let go, the handshake lasting just a touch longer than necessary, his fingers gripping my hand, heat coursing through me.

“Got it. My ex-wife's sibling is non-binary, too. What are your pronouns?”

“They/them. Yours?” I was touched that he’d asked. Sometimes outsiders to Maplewood didn’t live up to the openness and acceptance of the rest of the town.

“He/him.” There was a silence between us for a moment as our gazes locked on one another.

I couldn’t tear my gaze away from his. There was something about the sparkle in his green eyes that wouldn’t let me look anywhere else.

After a moment, Gabe cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck, smiling and looking a little shy.

If I didn’t know better, the look on his face would’ve told me he was attracted to me.

But that couldn’t be possible. I couldn’t get that lucky even in my dreams.

“Mix,” Ellie said, breaking the moment. “Do you want to taste my ice cream?”

I tore my gaze away from Gabe’s and looked down at Ellie. “Did you enter the flavor contest?”

“Daddy helped me. We made so much ice cream.”

“Yeah,” Gabe said. “Two gallons is a lot more than you’d think it would be.”

I laughed, thinking of just how much milk I’d gone through getting my flavor perfected and creating the final batch. “Tell me about it. I can’t believe how many times I had to go buy another gallon of milk.”

“You entered?” Gabe asked.

“I did.”

Ellie tugged at my hand to get my attention. “What flavor did you make, Mix?”

“Fig, walnut, and tamarind, with a little maple for sweetness.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Sounds weird.”

“Ellie,” Gabe chastised. “You know better. Be polite.”

“It’s fine. Honesty is an important quality, right?”

Gabe raised his eyebrows at me before looking at Ellie. “Good point. And this one is always honest about what she’s thinking. We’ll get to tact a little later, I guess.”

I couldn’t help myself and laughed out loud. He was cute and funny. The whole package. “It comes in time,” I assured him.

“Daddy, what’s tact?”

He opened his mouth to answer and closed it again. I decided to take mercy on Gabe and bail him out. “Ellie, what’s your flavor?”

She looked at Gabe. “Daddy, what’s it called again?”

“Red, White and Blueberry.”

At that moment, a cart-pusher approached us and handed us each two cups of ice cream. I took them and thanked the teenager pushing the cart before turning back to Ellie and Gabe. “Appropriate for the holiday, I see. What’s in it?”

Ellie bounced on her feet. “Strawberries and blueberries and white chocolate chips.”

I nodded and glanced at the first ice cream we’d been handed. “Yours definitely sounds like it’s worth a try.”

“I hope so,” Gabe said. “We just decided to enter two days ago.”

Well, that explains the extra flavor in the contest this year. I smiled. “Ambitious.”

With that, Gabe put a spoonful of the first ice cream in his mouth and grimaced. “What’s this flavor supposed to be?”

The emcee took to the mic again just then. “Folks, it looks like flavors number one and two have been fully distributed. The first flavor is macaroni and cheese.”

I usually liked to give things a fair chance. I wasn’t a picky eater at all, but this one wasn’t exactly hitting the spot. The second flavor wasn’t much better—it tasted a little like dill pickle and garlic mixed together. It was definitely what I’d call too much .

We kept chatting and tasting ice creams until all seven had been distributed and tasted. Ellie’s was pretty good, I had to admit. Still, I liked mine better.

As we tasted flavor after flavor, I tried my damnedest not to stare at Gabe the whole time.

Every time I glanced his way, I caught him looking at me, and every time I caught him, he smiled sheepishly and looked down at Ellie to ruffle her hair or pat her shoulder or ask her opinion on something. What’s that about?

Gabe systematically worked his way through the ice creams, and when he got to mine, his eyes widened and he let out a soft groan that went straight to my gut.

“That’s amazing,” he murmured.

I couldn’t think of much to say that didn’t sound too flirty, so I just shrugged. “Thanks.”

Ellie shook her head. “I still think it’s weird.”

“El, be polite.”

“Alright, Maplewood, all of the flavors have been tasted and the judges are tallying their votes. Don’t forget to cast your vote for best ice cream before you leave.

And with that, we’ll see you at the fireworks.

Next up, Syrup and Sequins, Maplewood’s very own drag show!

It starts in thirty minutes, and this is a production you don’t want to miss. ”

As the crowd dispersed, Gabe lingered, while Ellie tugged on his hand. “Daddy, let’s go .”

He chuckled a little and nodded. “Okay, El. Just a minute.” He turned his attention back to me. “See you around?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” As the two walked away, hope fluttered in my chest.