As I made my way toward him, I noticed Darren stationed in front of the booth. Relief flooded my veins. Thank goodness Ian had someone looking out for him. If left to his own devices, Ian would have probably agreed to walk a bride down the aisle on her wedding day or give someone a ride to the airport.
As it was, he seemed to be Facetiming someone at the request of the lady at the front of the line. There was a lot of high-pitched squealing coming from the phone’s speakers. Undeterred, Ian grinned and spoke into the device.
Darren caught my eye, looking like a man who’d seen some things over the last three hours. From his other side, Becca popped up in a neon-green volunteer shirt. She gave me a wave, and I returned it.
Becca then spoke quietly to the woman holding the phone out for Ian. Then she faced the crowd and clapped three times loudly, like a kindergarten teacher. “Alright, y’all! Mr. Masters will be taking a quick break. He’ll be back with you in fifteen minutes.” Groans rose from those assembled. Becca made a face at the crowd like she was deeply disappointed in them. “If you don’t want to wait, feel free to go ask your husbands to hold your place in line.”
That got them to shut up real quick, and I let out a startled laugh. I could only imagine how annoyed the partners of these women were as they waited hours to meet a movie star.
Ian wrapped up the video call and waved to the crowd. Becca slid a red curtain closed on the front of the booth. I guess that afforded Ian a moment of privacy.
“Hi,” I said to my friend.
“Hey, Joanie. He’s been a champ all morning. But I’m glad you’re here so he can take a little break. Here.” She passed me a blue ticket.
I stared at the little paper rectangle in my palm. “I’m not taking a turn on the Ferris wheel, Becca.”
She grinned. “I know. Maybe you’ll need it for something else, though.” Before I could argue or blush like a damn schoolgirl, Becca winked and said, “Go on around the side. There are a couple of chairs back there.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, still a little embarrassed by the suggestion that I’d want a ticket for the kissing booth.
I passed Darren one of the turkey sandwiches from my mother. He nodded his thanks.
I hadn’t even rounded the corner before a strong hand reached out and tugged me inside the booth. The back was completely open, but the sides were covered, and now the front was as well by the red curtain.
Ian wrapped his arms around me and hugged me hard. “You are a sight for sore lips.”
I grinned into his shoulder. “I think you meant eyes.”
“Oh my God, these women, Joan. You wouldn’t believe.”
Oh, I’d believe it, alright. “I really want to tell you I told you so, but that would be rude.”
He leaned back to meet my gaze, eyes wide and expression frazzled. “I feel so used. Like a piece of meat. I think my biceps are sore from all the squeezing. Will you massage them and make it all go away?”
Grinning, I shook my head at his dramatics. “Look at you being objectified. How terrible it must be to be a man in this day and age.”
He’d been nodding along pitifully, but then stopped abruptly. “Oh, right. Women put up with shit all the time. You’re right. I’m a jerk.”
With a gentle touch, I ran my hands up the poor, abused arms in question. Smiling gently, I said, “It’s okay. But you did bring this upon yourself.”
He had the good grace to appear sheepish. “It’s for a good cause. And it’s just a few more hours. Actually, the majority of people have been great. Most only want to talk or take a selfie together. Not much kissing going on.”
“Good. I brought you some lunch from Mom.”
He was already digging into the paper bag with gusto. “Thanks. Will you stay and keep me company?”
“Sure. Where’s George?”
Ian unwrapped the other turkey sandwich and passed me half. “He’s with Sophia riding the carnival rides. I think they’re going to hit the petting zoo after lunch and then head back to the house.”
“I’ll text Sophia and track them down, check out the petting zoo with the kid.”
He smiled warmly at me. “I’m sure he’d love that.”
We spent the next ten minutes eating and laughing while Ian told me about all the crying women and the crazy requests he’d received that morning. Three different people had come up to show him their Inferno Man tattoos. One was on someone’s butt, so that had been unexpected, and likely the reason Darren had looked so shell-shocked when I’d arrived.
Ian had Facetimed various sisters and cousins and friends who lived out of state. He’d signed numerous autographs and agreed to record a video for someone’s mother who was going through cancer treatment.
