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Not as disappointing, though, as the man who appeared in front of Jordan’s booth.
Luke had never seen the guy before—not that he knew everyone in the county, but he knew just about every person in Lucky Hollow by name, as well as a good amount from neighboring towns, courtesy of the high school football teams.
As far as Luke’s evaluation of other men went, well…fuck. The other guy was good-looking. Tall, black hair, blue eyes. Showered, which was saying something compared to some of the fair attendees.
He was also clean-cut and wearing…motherfucker, were those…cuff links?
Shit, this guy was right up City’s alley.
“Call me old-fashioned, but I like to know a girl’s name before I kiss her,” City Boy was saying.
City Girl leaned forward. Did she bat her eyelashes? “Name’s Jordan.”
The man laughed. “Shit, really? Mine too.”
Oh hell no.
Jordan let out a happy, girlish laugh. Flirtatious. “Seriously?”
“I’m going to be sick,” Luke muttered.
Neither Jordan looked at him.
The man reached into his back pocket, pulled out a fancy-looking wallet, and extracted a twenty.
“What does this get me?”
Jordan, the female version, crossed her arms and leaned forward. “Well, considering this is a family-friendly place and I’m not a prostitute, I’d say it gets you exactly what the sign says. A kiss. One per customer.”
Man-Jordan grinned and stuffed the bill into the box. “I’ll take it.”
Before Luke could figure out how to manufacture a natural disaster and stop this monstrosity, Man-Jordan made his move, closing the distance and kissing Woman-Jordan for far longer than necessary.
Luke’s jaw tensed as the kiss went on and on for…Seconds? Minutes? Hours?
He looked away. Tried not to care. Looked back, and…for God’s sake.
Luke was appeased slightly that it was Woman-Jordan who pulled back first. His eyes scanned her profile, looking—hoping—for disgust.
Instead, she looked…
Well, shit, he couldn’t tell.
Man-Jordan looked a little more…well, affected. Luke hated the man, but he couldn’t blame him. He knew firsthand that kissing this woman felt strangely life-altering.
“Thanks for the donation,” she was saying, patting the box in gratitude. “It all goes to charity.”
Man-Jordan laughed and ran a hand through his hair. “Not gonna lie, that wasn’t my primary motivation. How long do you have to work the booth?”
She glanced at her watch. “Just until two.”
Not so long ago, the two hours he and Jordan were expected to work a damn kissing booth had felt interminable. Now it wasn’t nearly long enough. Not if…
“If I’m here at two, can I take you”—Man-Jordan leaned in with a grin—“on the Ferris wheel?”
Another of those flirty laughs from Woman-Jordan. “I’d like that.”
“See you then, Jordan.”
