Page 38 of Matchmaking On The Menu

“Sorry,” I say, meaning it. “First harvest festival. I didn’t—” I gesture vaguely toward the tent. “I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just… a lot.”

Not a lie. Just not the whole truth.

Her gaze flicks past me, tracking the movement and chaos I just pointed at. Then she settles on me again, her expression softening.

“Yeah,” she says. “It is.”

There’s a beat. It’s not awkward, just quiet.

Something shifts in her eyes, her pupils dilating just slightly and for a second, I wonder if she recognizes me from the diner. If she does, she doesn’t say it. So, I don’t mention it either.

“Do you want me to delete it?” I ask, holding out my camera for her to do with as she wishes with the image. She hesitates for a barely there flicker but I catch it.

Then…

“No,” she says. “It’s fine.”

Relief settles low in my chest. It’s not unexpected, though it does feel slightly unnecessary. Why would her wanting to delete her photo bother me?

The music slows to something softer and smoother, sliding into place where the chaos was a second ago. Couples start forming almost immediately, like it’s reflex. Or is it expectation? Maybe a bit of both.

A woman comes over to us, large, round spectacles making her look owlish. Red hair highlights the freckles dotting her face.

“Ow—” she states, suddenly hopping on one foot. “There’s a rock in my shoe. I am being personally victimized by this festival.”

Dannica laughs, reaching for her. “C’mon, Shelly, do you want me to⁠—”

“Nope!” Shelly cuts in brightly, already backing away on two perfectly fine feet. “You two keep my spot warm. I’ll be right back.”

And then she’s gone. Just… gone.

Like that wasn’t deliberate, leaving the two of us standing there with music undeniably meant for a slow dance.

I blink once.

Twice.

As if that’s going to change what’s happening, because surely I’m not imagining the set up.

No. No, that did just happen.

I glance at Dannica, and she looks just as caught off guard.

Good, not just me, then.

I clear my throat again, shifting my weight, the strap of the camera once more pressing into my shoulder like it’s reminding me this isn’t what I came here for. It doesn’t matter. I do the only thing that makes any kind of sense in a moment that makes none. I extend my hand, slow and deliberate. “May I have this dance?”

8

DANNICA

LOCAL WOMAN ENGAGES IN QUESTIONABLE DANCE, MAKES WORSE DECISION SHORTLY AFTER

For a second, the words hang between us. Objectively speaking, being asked to dance at a Harvest Festival isn’t exactly shocking. There are fairy lights overhead, a live band playing, and approximately forty-seven couples already dancing.

No, the weird part is that my stomach immediately attempts a full gymnastics routine.

My gaze drops to his hand. It’s nothing dramatic, just a quick glance down before returning to his face.