Page 68 of The One Month Boyfriend (Wildwood Society)

“Just because you don’t approve of beauty contests doesn’t mean you’ve got to be unkind about it,” he goes on, sounding quite pleased with himself.

“Who says I don’t approve?” I ask, firmly tamping down any urge I might have to smile. “Maybe I was Miss Lovely Fairfax five years running. You don’t know.”

I can feel him turn his head to look at me, his hand adjusting in mine. Our palms are sweaty—my entire body is sweaty, it’s at least ninety degrees out in the August heat even though it’s past six in the evening—but it’s not quite as bad as I might have imagined.

“Okay,” he says. “Kat, were you Miss Lovely Fairfax five years running?”

He reaches over and takes a hunk of my cotton candy, popping it into his mouth, then briefly sucking his fingertips to get the sugar off. I watch half a second longer than strictly necessary.

“No,” I admit, holding the cotton candy further away from him. “I’d look terrible as a blond, so I knew I didn’t stand a chance.”

That gets a huff of laughter from him, as if my hair’s the sole reason I wasn’t a beauty queen and not, you know, also everything else about me.

“Then we’re not seeing the pretty cows or the pretty ladies,” he says, and goes for the cotton candy again, but I pull it away. “C’mon.”

“No,” I insist. “Get your own.”

“I don’t want my own, I just want one more bite of—”

“I want all the bites of mine.”

I bite down on the inside of my lip to keep my face serious, even as Silas’s eyes sparkle at me like sunlight on the surface of water.

“Fine,” he says, pretending to give up. “You want to visit the chicken tent or the livestock pavilion? Those seem to be our remaining options.”

I take a bite from the blue side of the cotton candy, holding his eyes as I chew and swallow.

“Is there anything that won’t get fur or feathers stuck in my snack?” I ask when I’m finished.

“Not much,” he says. “It’s the Burnley County Agricultural Fair, most things have fur or feathers.”

“Except Miss Blue Ridge.”

“Depends on the year.”

I take another bite, staring him down, determined not to laugh because the grumpier I act, the more he tries to prod me into smiling and secretly, I kind of like it.

“There’s not a giant watermelon somewhere?”

“Why would there be a giant watermelon?”

Another bite.

“Because it’s a county agricultural fair? Isn’t that what they’re for, showing off your giant watermelons and your overgrown hogs and your award-winning banana cake?”

“First, quit acting like you didn’t grow up a couple hours from here in the exact same state as me,” he says. “And second, if you wanted to see giant melons, we should’ve gone to the Miss—”

“You’re the worst boyfriend I have ever had,” I tell him, and he laughs before his face goes suddenly serious.

“Speaking of bad boyfriends,” he says, voice going low as he levels a gaze over my head. I turn and follow it, scouring the crowd, heart suddenly thumping because if it’s Evan that means it’s time to act, so I should probably go ahead and mash my face against Silas’s right now to get it over—

Then Silas swipes a huge chunk of pink cotton candy, laughing.

“Dammit!” I hiss. There’s a gouge in the pink half, and I gesture at it as if enraged. “Look, now it’s uneven.”

“Here,” he says, shoving the rest of his misbegotten chunk into his mouth. “I can—”

“No!” I yelp, yanking the cotton candy as far from him as I can get it, given that we’re still holding hands. “This is—”