Page 6 of Bound Hearts

“Nope,” I answer. “I’m a classic black coffee kind of gal. You? Double-shot espresso or a macchiato?”

“Well read. A macchiato it is.”

He steps forward and orders, and it’s too crowded to continue to chat while we wait on the side for our drinks. Luckily, we didn’t order anything too complicated, and we don’t have to wait long. With our coffee in hand, we begin to stroll through the aisle of tents.

“What is your donut of choice?” he asks. “Let me guess. Could be a simple one with white icing and sprinkles, and if you say that, then I might have to walk away.”

“Nah, I’m not a vanilla person.” I repeat that sentence in my head as I pause in place and realize that if innuendo floats through his head, then I just fueled his imagination.

The way he stands, sipping his coffee and fighting a devilish smirk at the same time, proves it.

“Old-fashioned then?”

I shake my head. “Not traditional.” The way I say it has a bit of a challenge because I can’t seem to turn off the switch that controls my flirting mode.

“Depends on the mood and time of day and place then,” he counters, and now it’s confirmed that we are aligned.

Our eyes sweep together to the side, and I bite the inside of my cheek. Foster has me very curious about him, but for now, I won’t deliver a rebuff that could drive us further into flirtation territory.

“I meant the donut. Old-fashioned. You know, made with sour cream and glaze?” He redirects us, but I can see it’s a lazy save. Clearing my throat, I continue to move with my lips still pressed from a smile that doesn’t faze, and he follows my pace. “Legitimately, are there old-fashioned donuts here? Because those are the best. Chocolate or maple glaze.”

I spot the stand up ahead and point. “You’re in luck because you don’t need to search long. The Jolly Joe’s stall has old-fashioned donuts. Stationed conveniently next to the stall with donut holes. Whoever thought of those is a true master.”

We slow our approach to the stall and see an array of donuts, labeled with little boards chalked with writing. The classic flavors are accounted for, as are a few extras, like pumpkin and peppermint.

I step closer to him so only he can hear. “Candy cane peppermint sounds revolting.”

“Doesn’t it?” he mutters in agreement, disguising with a smile as the owner, a man in his sixties, looks at him. Foster gives his energy to the man. “Can I have a chocolate glaze, and for the lady…”

He turns to me, but I shake my head. I’m holding out for something better. He gets his donut in a little paper bag as I attempt to search through the sea of people for our options.

“Hear me out,” I begin. “Might be a tactical error trying to eat a stuffed donut while wearing gloves and freezing, but I spot something delicious over there.”

“I’m up for the challenge. I need to discover your flavor choice.”

I grab his arm and begin to tug him along. “That’s right, Mr. Old Man traditional.” Because I think he has about seven years on me, it’s easy to tease.

“Watch it there,” he chides.

We reach the stall, and instantly I’m undecided, but luckily the line is long.

“Do they have this festival every year?” he asks as I continue my quest to pick the right choice.

“No, actually. We are known for our summer festivals.” I continue to peruse the options. “Calling a donut birthday-cake flavor because sprinkles does the trick.” I point to the option.

“Of course, my assistant brought me a donut on my birthday a few weeks back.”

“A November birthday. Me too. I have a feeling our age is different, though.”

He chuckles. “I’m thirty-seven, and you are…”

“A woman should never say her age, but I’m thirty. I was ahead of Elodie and Savannah at school.” I settle on a coconut cream donut with chocolate icing and place my order.

“That’s your choice?” he double-checks.

I sound doubtful. “It’s a struggle between the tiramisu donut, because eating tiramisu is the way to my heart, but something about today has me craving coconut cream.” His look changes, not enough for people to notice, merely for a second, but I do.

And three minutes later, as we stand by a railing along the iced river, he smiles fondly when I take my donut out.