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Donovan stood still. “Wait...how about if we get a bite to eat from the mystery meat stand?”
British followed his gaze to the caravan of food trucks parked alongside the town square. Serpentine lines wrapped around each vehicle. The one with the shortest line came from the truck with the sign You’ll Never Guess. Despite what she’d warned him about in the car, the smells were delicious and tempting. Donovan took a step in the direction but British squeezed his hand.
“I can’t do that to you. Let’s go find something else to eat.”
“See, and here I was all game.” Donovan’s shoulders relaxed and he felt the blood pump and course through his veins when she winked at him.
“And then we’ll get on the rides,” British said with a laugh before pulling him around the festival. “Unless you’re afraid you’re going to scream and cry.”
“I don’t cry,” he said flatly.
Since this was the last night of the festival, everything was half off. British didn’t argue with Donovan when he stepped in front of her to pay for the tickets or for the cotton candy and corn dogs they ate while they walked around.
Her students stopped her every now and then, and British moved off to the side to have a conference with some of the parents who hadn’t been able to make it to school so far this year. He didn’t mind. Donovan had dated some models who were also single mothers, and he’d heard how hard it was for a working mom to meet with her kid’s teachers. Of course, they’d mention this in the hope Donovan would be able to get them a full-time gig working at Ravens Cosmetics or to settle down with him and live the life of luxury.
“I think I am the one walking around with the celebrity,” Donovan taunted when British finished with a parent and student. The on-the-spot conference had ended with the mother profusely thanking and thanking British for her patience, and British and the young man high-fiving each other.
Under the pink glow of a ride, British blushed. “Well, I did grow up here.” As she waved her hand like a showcase hostess, her eyes widened and Donovan swore she cursed under her breath.
“And I’m surprised we haven’t—” His words were cut off.
“Quick.” British grabbed hold of Donovan’s hand and tugged him hard toward their first roller coaster of the evening. “Let’s get on a ride.”
A pulse of fear jolted through him. The last thing he wanted to do was to give up his masculinity card for screaming like a child and fainting, like he’d seen on a YouTube video his sister Dana’s kids, his nieces and nephews, showed him. “Wait, what?”
Fortunately for him, every death-defying ride British dragged him to had lines. The folks of the town had come out in droves. Donovan sighed in relief at the Ferris wheel. The ticket-taker ripped their tickets in two and lifted the plastic rope for them to enter.
The available cart was a two-seater and Donovan did not mind. Without giving it much thought, he stretched his arm around British and heat rose from her shoulders to the crook of his elbow. Donovan rested his long legs against the foot rail. The compartment rocked forward. British sat on the inside, using his body as a shield from someone in the crowd.
“Are we sure this is safe?” He turned his light brown eyes toward her.
“You’re afraid?”
“Nah,” Donovan chuckled and sat back in his seat. “I rank placing myself in unnecessary danger right up there with jumping out of a perfectly functioning airplane.”
“You can skydive over in Peachville,” British offered. “I mean, if you want.”
“I don’t,” he replied quickly. The sounds below grew quieter. The occasional roar of the fireball roller coaster and screams from the other rides rang out.
“So who were you hiding from?”
Chapter 5
British had hoped Donovan hadn’t noticed her paranoia. Spotting Cam in the parking lot had set off a chain reaction. Cam, she could handle, basically because he’d been leaving as they’d pulled into the lot. No, the biggest fear for British had been her family, whose calls she still hadn’t bothered returning since she arrived at Magnolia Palace. With the Thanksgiving holiday rapidly approaching, her mother hounded her for confirmation that she would be coming over to the house.
As the baby of the Woodburys, British had grown up with a mother and four other brothers and sisters who thought they were her parents. It was only a matter of time
before they all ran into each other at the festival. British spotted her six-foot-tall mom by the basketball game shooting hoops and racking up on the prizes with three giant teddy bears already, probably one for each granddaughter. At least, up high in the air, British was out of earshot and eyesight of Joan Woodbury...just not Donovan’s questioning stare.
“If you must know who I am trying to avoid,” British said, licking her lips and tasting the sweet leftover sugar from her cotton candy, “I am hiding from my mother.”
Donovan closed his eyes and nodded. “Completely understandable.”
British glanced up to see a smirk competing with the grin across his face. When she did, she elbowed him.
“What?” Donovan asked mockingly. “I always get on death traps to avoid my mom.”
“I’m not avoiding-avoiding her,” British replied. “I am just...well, um, not ready to bump into her.”
