Page 42 of Sparrow

I shrug at that. “Yeah well, traditions and all that. Someone made it happen in April once and now that’s the month when we have it. I don’t make the rules.”

She looks at me askance. “But your family does. So technically it’s your family’s fault that a summer festival happens in spring.”

Right, that’s enough explaining to her. She’s already laughing at me, and though I want to stand here and laugh with her, let her make fun of me to her heart’s content, I don’t actually have time.

Dutch was already in here reminding me of my responsibilities and the last thing I need is him reminding me again. He takes entirely too much joy in acting like he knows more than me.

Arden, however, isn’t done yet. “You know, I can stay here. I don’t have to do everything you do.”

“No. You’re coming.”

Her frown deepens. “What, you don’t trust me to stay here on my own?”

No.

But that’s the wrong answer.

I move to her before I can stop myself, and finally–finally–let myself brush my fingertips over that sharp cheekbone. Down the hollowed-out cheek to her chin, where I tip her face up so she’s looking at me.

And fuck me, it would be easy to kiss her right now. Lean down, brush my lips against hers, and then wait to see whether she opened up to me.

The thought momentarily steals my breath, but then I remember what we’re talking about. “I trust you just fine,” I whisper. “But I don’t trust the men who kidnapped you. And now that you’re here, I’m not willing to lose you again.”

The line means more than I meant it to, and I freeze, staring at her and wondering if she heard it. Her pupils are blown out, her lips parted, and I know she did.

And that’s the most dangerous thing in the world.

I turn quickly, pulling my hands from her and forcing myself to remember my place. “Wear boots. There’re clouds out and this time of year makes for sudden storms. I don’t want you catching cold.”

Another line that says too much.

I shut my mouth firmly, tell myself to keep it closed, and stalk from the kitchen, reminding myself once again that she’s a girl who needs my help. My sister’s stepdaughter. My houseguest.

And nothing more.

The festival itself takes place in a field right outside of town, and I swear it gets more chaotic every year, like everyone in town is trying to outdo what someone else did last year, and succeeding.

We never get the same booths or contests two years in a row, because it wouldn’t be fair. If Penny handled the pie table every year, we’d all end up eating the same sorts of pies. So instead, we rotate, everyone finding out at the setup what we’ll be doing.

And while we’re here, we decorate.

I look across the field and take in all my friends as they scurry across the space like ants, if ants carried booths, ladders, stools, and toolboxes. Dutch and Orion are working together to get part of the stage from one end of the field to the other, and Casino has made an appearance, his cowboy hat pulled low over his eyes as he sets up the poles that will hold the strings of lights. Someone has put together a carousel this year, and I watch the putting it together, concerned.

That thing doesn’t look like it’ll support the smallest of the kids, much less the adults.

And there’s no way the adults will leave it alone once they start drinking.

I turn and look at the entryway and see Rookie and one of his friends painting the entryway–which is the worst job possible for him.

The kid is a genius with any set of tools I hand him, but he’s no artist.

I start walking that way, wondering who I need to talk to about putting him somewhere else, when a hand lands on my arm.

“What are you scowling about, cousin?”

I whirl, expecting Gunner, but it’s Bear, Gunner’s younger brother, and he’s grinning like he’s already had too much candy. I laugh and pull him into a hug, ecstatic to see the man so happy.

Four months ago he came home from the military, dishonorably discharged, and took on the town’s sheriff position.