Page 3 of Tennessee Trouble

Sucking in a deep breath, I take a moment, letting myself drink it all in. The cool mountain air. The beautiful spring colors. The closed-off downtown street full of small-town businesses ready and waiting for visitors, just adjacent to the park full of brightly colored tents. The din of conversation from the crowd wafting through the air as people make their way in and out of the shops and up and down the aisles of the tents, making the whole afternoon feel magical.

This is where happiness happens.

And it feels weird to be a bystander. At the same time, damn good. Nice to know that I don’t have the responsibility for making sure this runs as smoothly as possible or fixing something if it breaks. Nope, I’m here just to have fun.

And not think about Monday.

“Hi,” I greet a volunteer standing near a street light. The blonde woman in her twenties looks up at me and smiles, automatically handing me an event map. “Thanks. CedarSteel is here, right?”

“Errrr….” She bites her lips, quickly flicking her eyes down to the map. “Table seventeen. So, third aisle, and then around the little corner.”

“Thanks.”

I follow her directions, bobbing and weaving my way past a couple of groups already deep into their taste testing. The largest group is parked in front of Midnight Mavericks. No surprise there.

A large distillery out of Pigeon Forge, the Midnight Mavericks are one of the biggest names in modern moonshine. A brand known across the country, with a massive retail presence and a loyal fan base.

And complete sellouts.

But that’s a different story.

Skirting around the Maverick fans, I round the corner the volunteer mentioned, looking on the map, trying to figure out exactly how they decided to number these tables. Whoever was given that job had already started to dabble in the shine, because it doesn’t make a ton of sense. But nonetheless, I find where I’m going, spying the distinct blue logo against a black backdrop.

At least until something else steals my attention.

To the left of CedarSteel is another tent, decked out in what I can only refer to as sorority colors. A crisp silver background, with a playful font spelling out the words Wink & Shine in a pink that almost sparkles. Standing in front of that tent is the most beautiful blonde I’ve ever seen.

And all I think is one thing.

I need to know her name.

2

LINDEE

“Hey, Lind. Don’t look now…” my best friend, April Diaz, says, just loud enough so I can hear her. I turn to look at her, not sure what to make of the wide-eyed expression on her face.

Mine follows suit, wariness rising in me as she pauses, still staring over my shoulder. Given where we are, it could be anything. Absolutely anything.

I really hate Leprechauns and Liquor…

Shaking my head, I lean forward, silently asking the unspoken question, trying to urge April on.

“Not to make this weird or anything, but I think that guy is staring at you.”

What? She’s nuts. There is no one staring at me.

I roll my eyes, convinced that she’s making that up. Yes, I did say that anything could happen at Leprechauns and Liquor, the stupid festival we were tricked into hosting this year here in Trouble, Tennessee, but that’s not what I meant by anything. I meant that a gang of bikers could have shown up. Maybe Miss Mabel, the crazy old lady who lives above the Sit ’n Sway, is wandering around in only her pajama pants again. Or Rory MacDougal is all dressed up in his kilt—authentically—parading around town with his bagpipes. Hell, maybe old Mr. Bush actually came down from the hill, leaving his house for the first time in my lifetime and is giving out free hugs.

Or…oh, I know…the Midnight Mavericks’ tent is on fire.

Okay, I’m not that lucky. But a girl can hope.

Either way, that’s the anything I mean. Some random dude staring at me does not fall into that kind of category.

Turning around to face the crowd, I try to be nonchalant. Like I’m just scanning the area. Only, there’s no missing him. Tall, broad, with light brown wavy hair that is long enough to run your hands through, and Henley sleeves pushed up to his elbows, showing off strong forearms that clearly know a day’s work.

More than that, I think April’s right—he’s staring.