Page 124 of Playing Mr. Perfect

“Not bad. We didn’t hit much traffic,” I say as a child runs by wearing a red sweatshirt with #teamplay on it. “What’s team play?”

“Oh, that’s just something the town’s doing to encourage people to think like a team and support one another,” my father says.

“That’s nice,” I say. “Where is everyone? Did Axsel make it home?”

“He didn’t make it, but Grace and Reed and Brindle and Trace are around here somewhere. Morgyn and Graham, and Amber and your mother, are manning their booths, and Dash is running that football throwing game again this year, raising money for the youth football league. Everyone’s looking forward to seeing you guys. Clay, now that you’re dating my daughter, I look forward to getting to know you better.”

“Maybe we can chat over a boatbuilding lesson sometime,” Clay suggests. “I could use a few pointers. Pepper and I had a boatbuilding contest a few weekends ago. We took the boats out to a lake to race them, and she kicked my butt.”

My father looks at me, surprise shimmering in his eyes. “You made time to build a boat and race it?”

“Yes.” I glance at Clay. “This guy has me making time for a lot of things lately.”

“I like the sound of that.” My father eyes Clay. “You must be pretty special. She only makes time for the people she cares about.”

“Dad, I’m standing right here,” I remind him.

“Don’t worry,” Clay says to my father. “I know how unbelievably lucky I am to have roped your daughter into spending time with me.”

“Hey, Braden!”

We all look over toward the games to see who is calling Clay, and through the crowd, I see Dash waving him over. Clay lifts his chin in acknowledgment and holds up an index finger.

“It’s okay. Go on over,” I say. “I’ll catch up with you in a few minutes.”

“A’right.” He kisses my cheek, and then he points at my father and says, “I’m serious about the boatbuilding lesson. I can’t let her one-up me for too long. It’ll go to her head.”

My father laughs. “I guess she failed to mention that by the time she was a senior, her boats blew mine away.”

“Well, hell. I guess I’m crazy about a woman who’ll always beat me at something.”

Clay winks at me, and then I watch him make his way across the lawn toward Dash.

“I like that smitten look in your eyes, princess.”

I take a deep breath. “Is it that obvious?”

“Honey, I could feel the difference in you from ten feet away.” He holds up the plate of funnel cake, and I take a piece. “It’s been a few weeks since the news of you two came out. How have things been? Does he come see you often?”

Why is my heart racing? I break off another piece of funnel cake. “Actually, he’s been in Charlottesville the whole time.” I pop the sugary treat into my mouth.

His brows lift in surprise. “When Clay called to ask if we’d mind if Hawk came out to photograph us, we assumed things were going well, but we had no idea he was staying in town. How’s that going? You usually like your space.”

I like my space better when he’s in it is on the tip of my tongue, but a voice of caution whispers to keep it there. “Can I ask you something?”

“Always, honey.”

I nervously brush the powdered sugar from my fingers. “How did you know Mom was the one?”

“That’s a big question. Has Aunt Roxie been sending you body lotion?”

My mother’s sister, Roxie Dalton, lives in Upstate New York, and she’s famous for making personal products with love potions in them. “No. I’ve always used them, but not because I believe they have secret powers.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“Dad, this is hard enough to talk about. Can you just answer the question, please?” I eat another piece of funnel cake, trying to catch a glimpse of Clay, but there are too many people walking by to catch more than a flash of the back of his head as he talks with Dash.

“In a second. Why is it hard to talk about?”