Page 27 of For Love of Liberty

Catching her glaring, Finn actually had the nerve to toss her a wink, and Libby’s face flashed so hot, she snatched another lemonade and spun around, tempted to cool off with a douse instead of a drink. Draining the glass, she turned to slam it back down on the makeshift table, wobbling all the others Kitty and Martha had just filled.

“See? Crabby,” her best friend said again, tugging her away from the drink table. “You have turned down every man that has asked you to dance tonight, Libs, opting to hide out back here instead.” Bracing Libby’s arms, Kitty seared her with a probing look. “I’ve seen this kind of mood in you before, Liberty O’Shea, and somehow it always has to do with Finn, so confess.” Tone softening, Kitty wiggled her brows. “Did that boy try to kiss you again?”

Libby was sure Jo Beth’s dress had nothing on her when warmth whooshed into her face, red-hot.

“I knew it!” Kitty dipped her knees with a squeal and swallowed Libby up in a hug, pulling back with a mischievous grin. “That bad boy did, didn’t he?”

Mortified, Libby snuck a peek over her shoulder to where “that bad boy” was casually strolling toward their table in his best vest and string tie. Hands in his pockets, he flashed that annoying crooked grin that always tumbled Libby’s stomach.

“Evenin’, Kitty, Martha …” He paused to deliver a slow smile in Libby’s direction, eyes twinkling as his gaze lowered to her mouth with a husky drawl. “Libby.”

A hot retort teetered on the tip of her tongue, near as scalding as the fire in her cheeks.

“Why, there you are, Finn McShane,” Jo Beth’s mother interrupted, sidling over to loop an arm through Finn’s while her entourage of ladies’ guild members—all judges for the booth contest—gathered around. “I do declare—if your booth wasn’t the most creative and clever in the festival, I’ll eat my hat.” Mrs. Templeton delivered a butterscotch grin with a bat of her eyes.

Libby turned away to retrieve a fresh jug of lemonade, wishing Jo Beth’s mother would eat her feather hat.

And maybe choke a wee bit ...

“Why, thank you, Mrs. Templeton,” Finn said with that infuriating smile in a husky voice that could charm fleas off a dog. “I’m happy to say we had a pretty fair turnout, yielding a healthy donation for our town.” Glancing over his shoulder, he flashed a grin at Liberty, Kitty, and Martha. “Although I believe these girls here gave us a run for our money.”

Nose wrinkling, Mrs. Templeton averted her head slightly to offer a smile to Libby that was more of a smirk. “Yes, but I’m afraid my Harold choking on that apple from the dunking booth could possibly cost them some points in the contest.”

Libby’s eyes narrowed considerably. Suddenly she smelled a rotten apple.

“Oh and Finn,” Mrs. Templeton said with another flutter of lashes that reminded Libby a little too much of her daughter, “Jo Beth wondered if you might bring her a lemonade. I do believe you wore my girl plum out with so many dances, so she’s quite parched.”

I’ll show her parched. Libby swiped the jug, sloshing lemonade into empty glasses.

“My pleasure, Mrs. Templeton.” Finn promptly picked up two punch cups, handing Martha his payment before turning to go.

But not before sliding Libby another wink.

“Did you see that?” Kitty whispered loudly when Mrs. Templeton and crew had taken their leave. “Finn winked at you, Libs— again!” She tapped her toe with a firm fold of arms, a smile squirming on her lips. “I don’t think you’re telling me everything that’s going on here, because I sure don’t see that man winking at anybody else. Which is downright peculiar since everybody thinks he and Jo Beth are a horse hair away from courting.”

A horse hair away from courting.

Libby’s brows dug low. More like a horse’s behind … “First of all, Kit,” she said in a clipped voice, “Finn McShane is a shameless scoundrel who will flirt with anything in a skirt, so a wink from a man like that means absolutely nothing.” Her eyes thinned as she glowered in his direction. Except heartbreak. “And secondly, not only is he not courting Jo Beth, but he has no plans to do so.”

“And just how would you know that?” Kitty asked with a purse of a smile. “Unless he told you when he kissed you?”

“He didn’t tell me anything,” she fibbed, ignoring Kitty’s reference to a kiss while she seared Finn and Jo Beth with a steel-eyed squint. Except, obviously, a pack of lies. She huffed out a noisy sigh. “Look, Kitty, you told me yourself he’s been seeing Jo Beth more than anyone else for a long time now, so I just figured if he hasn’t made a move yet, I doubt he will.”

Kitty bumped a shoulder against Libby’s, a gleam of trouble in her eyes. “So, has he?”

Libby tore her gaze from Finn to blink at her best friend. “Has he what?”

“Made a move!” Kitty emphasized loudly under her breath.

A grunt rolled from Libby’s lips as she checked the watch pinned to her bodice. She snatched the cashbox from under the table, determined to avoid her best friend’s inquisition by collecting the money from the dessert table. “Apparently that’s a question for Jo Beth,” she bit out.

“Ah-hah!” Kitty blocked her way with a cheeky grin. “Apparently? Mmm … that sounds a little bit like sour lemonade to me, doesn’t it, Martha?”

Martha nodded shyly, teeth tugging her lip.

Kitty cocked her head to deliver a sly look. “You know—like maybe you’re a wee bit … jealous?”

“Of Jo Beth Templeton?” Libby gaped, eyes as round as the silver dollars in her cashbox. A lump suddenly bobbed in her throat when she realized that Kitty was probably right. Her eyelids shuttered closed at the absurd idea that she would ever be jealous over Finn McShane. But apparently the man had—once again—bamboozled her. Like all the pranks he’d played on her in school, he’d obviously done it again—won her trust so he could set her up for the fall. A weak groan scraped past her lips as she put a quivering hand to her eyes.