As we weave through festival-goers, music breaks against the sharp crack of a balloon pop from a nearby dart booth, the smell of cinnamon sugar and summer heat filling the air.
Millie spots us first, lifting her lemonade in greeting.
“Well, if it isn’t our favorite couple,” she calls.
“Looking like they stepped straight out of a summer romance movie,” Elena adds, her straw hat tipped at a jaunty angle, a festival button pinned to the brim.
Margo adjusts the red-white-and-blue scarf at her neck and smirks. “Except in my version, the broody neighbor doesn’t share his Oreos.”
Knox sets the tray in the middle of the table. “Then this must be the director’s cut.”
“Smart man,” Millie says, brushing sugar off her skirt after breaking one in half. “You two should sit before someone drafts you into the cornhole tournament.”
We slide onto the bench, the heat of Knox’s thigh brushing mine.
Elena glances around, phone in hand as if she’s one click away from documenting this for the town scrapbook. “Where are the kittens tonight? Thought they’d be your plus-ones for every public appearance.”
Knox smiles. “At the pet hospital for the night. Vet said the fireworks are one of the hardest things for pets, so they recommended boarding them. Plus, they’re trying a little meet-and-greet with Wanda to see if they’ll bond.”
“Smart,” Millie says. “Less stress for everyone.”
“Where’d you both vanish to last week?” Elena asks, leaning in like it’s classified. “We stopped by one night to invite you over for cards and tequila shots, and you were nowhere to be found.”
“Probably lost track of time with the kittens.” I slide my gaze lower.
Margo licks a streak of pie filling from her thumb. “Is that what they’re calling it now?”
Knox chuckles, and I shove an Oreo in my mouth before my cheeks give me away.
“Starting to think you three might be trouble,” Knox says, grinning.
“Darling, we don’tmightabout anything,” Elena replies.
Millie tilts her head, smiling. “It’s good to see you both out here. This is what Crystal Cove summers are all about: fun, laughter, and mosquitoes.”
On the table between them, paper plates sit stacked with generous slices of pie, each in its own waxy paper cradle.
“Contest leftovers,” Margo explains when she catches me eyeing them. “They sell them off for the food bank once the judging’s done.”
My heart smiles. Crystal Cove could easily fit the backdrop of any small-town movie.
“Are you two watching the fireworks from the bluff?” Margo asks.
“We were thinking about it,” Knox replies, then takes a last swig of his beer.
“Do it,” Elena urges. “Best view in town. Fewer people, more privacy. Although we wouldn’t mind a public display. Keeps the town gossip mill alive.”
Margo winks. “We love a happy ending.”
Millie shifts sideways on the bench to face us. “If you head up before the finale, you’ll miss the crowd. But stay long enough to try the peach bourbon. It’s worth the walk back.”
“Oh, please.” Elena snorts, lifting her lemonade cup in our direction. “You two don’t need bourbon.” Her gaze flicks between Knox and me. “You’re already drunk on each other.”
Heat crawls up my neck. I chance a glance at Knox, expecting him to deflect. But he’s all smiles as if Elena just stated the obvious out loud and he doesn’t mind it one bit.
Conversation stretches on a little longer, trading festival gossip: which vendor accidentally set their tablecloth on fire, who spiked the lemonade stand at the quilting tent, and which band has been promising “one last song” for twenty minutes.
Finally, Knox stands, offering me his hand. “We should go claim that bluff.”
