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“I can’t guarantee there won’t be any vittles like that,” she began, clucking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “I will say if the sign above the counter says ‘mystery meat’ and it’s deep-fried...don’t eat it.”
Donovan’s laugh rattled the interior of the Jaguar. “I’ll make note of it.”
Bright lights filled the town square. The only thing on Donovan’s mind the other day had been getting another batch of cupcakes. He hadn’t bothered looking around town; otherwise he might have noticed the carnival equipment. A man carrying a small child over his shoulders waved at Donovan’s car and pointed to a space, where a convertible’s taillights flickered. Donovan let his window down to wave acknowledgment and thanks at the same time.
The smells of popcorn, smoked meats and cotton candy permeated the inside of the car. Donovan’s stomach growled. “I guess a man can’t live on fresh chocolate-chip cupcakes alone,” he joked.
“Well, let’s hurry up and find you something recognizable to eat.”
As he flipped the turn signal for the parking space, British gazed out the passenger-side window. Was she looking for someone? Since she still wore her wedding ring, he doubted she was checking for a boyfriend. Once the space became free, Donovan pulled forward and backed into it, another car allowing Donovan to park before driving by. Maybe it was his imagination, but British seemed to use the opportune time to duck her head to unclick her seat belt. That same old suspicious radar dinged in the back of his head. She was hiding something from him.
“Hey, Ms. B,” someone shouted in the parking lot.
British squinted her eyes and tried to recognize the voice. “Hey, Mario.”
Donovan recognized Mario and Dario Crowne. Their older brother, Dominic, was a good friend of the family’s. Dominic’s brothers and sister, Alisha, were always in town from South Florida over at the house in the Overtown neighborhood for epic parties. “Hi, boys.”
“Who’s that you’ve got with you? Oh snap,” Dario said, shielding his eyes from the blaze of the setting sun. “Donovan?”
“Hey, twins,” Donovan called out with a head nod. “I thought I heard you were in Southwood now.”
Dario and Mario came over and greeted Donovan with a hug and handshake. They talked for a few minutes before a few young ladies walked by and caught their attention.
“I am about to walk into my hometown festival with a celebrity, aren’t I?” British teased, elbowing Donovan in the ribs.
Giving a shallow cough, Donovan casually draped his arm over her shoulder. A part of him wondered if this would show he was staking a claim on her. He had no right but being this close to her felt natural. So caught up in his thoughts, Donovan heard the honk of a car horn in enough time to pull British up onto the curb. The movement had been so quick but they lingered in each other’s embrace for ten heartbeats or more. They broke apart when a whirl of wind from a ride blew over their head followed by the screams of women, children and men.
British stepped out of his embrace with a shiver. “Where do you want to start? Rides? Or did you say you were scared?”
Donovan cleared his throat and puffed out his chest. “I never said either. But I’m not a big fan of roller coasters.”
“You don’t seriously think something bad can happen, now do you?”
“You mean get stuck upside down and fall out?” Donovan waved off the notion with a healthy dose of sarcasm and a pshaw. “Sure, all those news stories were wrong.”
“They were wrong for not telling the full story.” British rolled her eyes. “Majority of the injuries happen because of people not following the rules.”
“Let me guess, there’s a science behind roller coasters?” Donovan joked.
“Engineering.” British beamed. “You’ve been paying attention to my lessons with the girls.”
“Maybe a little.”
“Well, then you’ll realize the reporters are sensationalizing the stories. Have you ever noticed they come out right before the brink of the summer season? I swear it’s just to scare people.”
“Scare?” Donovan held his left hand out with his palm upward. “Warn? Caution?” he said, ticking off more synonyms of the word on each left finger with his long, right index finger. “I don’t see the difference.”
“You don’t?” British gaped.
“And you know what else I don’t see?”
“What?”
The familiar whirl whizzed over their heads. Donovan looked up in time to see what looked like a spinning fireball zoom through the air inches above his head. The gush of wind from the roller coaster was so forceful it whipped British’s hair all around her face. The ride went around and around in circles. Patrons screamed with thrills. A cell phone and a hat landed in the gated area around the base of the ride.
“You won’t see me getting on that thing.” Donovan folded his arms across his chest.
“Chicken,” British teased and tugged his arm loose to grab his hand. “C’mon, let’s go get on the ride.”
