“You’re a snob.” I poked her rib cage, and she stumbled on the uneven earth.
I pivoted to catch her in my arms, my hands on her waist, heat burning through the thin dress material. “Am not,” she said quietly as her gaze moved over my face.
“You’re not,” I agreed but wasn’t even sure of what I’d said.
We stayed like that for a moment, where I let myself pretend this was an ordinary first date between a beautiful woman and a regular smitten man. My thumbs rubbed in a circle, and I couldn’t move. I was so entranced.
A throat cleared behind us, and we realized the line had moved, but we had not. We broke apart to move up.
We finally made it to the front of the line. We walked to the table under a setup tent, and I said, “Two tickets, please.”
Frankie’s head shot to me. The volunteer said the amount due, and I thanked her as I handed her the cash. I asked her about her day, and she said it was hot but fun working the event. We were each handed our drink tickets and our collector wineglasses. “Thank you, darling. Have a good day.”
The woman flushed and waved the next person up.
We were roughly two steps away when Frankie whisper-shouted, “What was that?”
“What?” I asked innocently.
“The new accent?” Her usual sleepy-looking eyes were wide with humor, her full mouth open wide in shock. She tugged me to the side on the edge of the field for privacy.
I couldn’t believe how it made my heart kick up.
“Oh. That’s Hank,” I said easily. “And it is an American Southern Coastal accent to be precise,” I said teasingly.
She blinked, waiting for more information as she shook her head. I enjoyed this way too much.
“It’s another way I go incognito.” I continued to use my low, almost drawl, but not quite, as I explained. “Sometimes I use it so that I don’t have to make conversation about my accent,” I continued.
“I can’t believe she didn’t notice who you were. You had a whole conversation.” She leaned closer to whisper, “You sound like a totally different person.”
“Therein lies the rub, darlin’,” I said, making my voice rumble.
She shivered and stumbled back and into a pole. “Unbelievable. I thought you were super famous? Can’t go anywhere level famous,” she asked, laughing.
I gently tugged her forward by her waist but didn’t release her.
“I think it’s all relative. But to your point, I probably shouldn’t play with fire, you know what I mean?” I leaned over her, resting my other forearm above her head, my glass dangling.
She started laughing so hard I had to take her wineglass before she broke it. “Stop. Stop. It’s freaking me out.” She shoved me away playfully, and I turned to the rest of the festival.
“Oh my darlin’, oh my darlin’, oh my darlin’, Clementine,” I began to sing loudly, exaggerating the twang. A few people glanced in our direction, but the festival had been going on a few hours already, and drunken yodeling was likely the least interesting thing to be found.
“Stop. Stop.” She grabbed my shoulder, turned me back toward her, and covered my mouth. “The whole point is not to draw attention to you.”
She was up on tiptoes, the front of her body pressed against me. She was so warm and soft. Would she let me bend her back and kiss her silly? I swallowed against her hand, wondering if she noticed the way my breaths came faster under her touch.
I held her eyes, and the smile relaxed from her features. She lowered her hand, her gaze moving over my face to where she had just been covering. I swallowed and licked my lips without thinking. I swore her dark pupils dilated.
“I’ll only use Hank when I’m talking to strangers,” I said, returning to my normal voice.
She lowered off her toes as she stepped back. “That’s better.”
“Some skills are too powerful. I have to be careful.”
She rolled her eyes. “Come on. I have tickets to burn.”
