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The rest of the afternoon passed quickly and they had a rush of sore feet and minor musculoskeletal issues right before time for the children’s Olympic-style games started up.
Chrissie had learned that this was the first year they’d added the children’s events. Bud and Agnes had made a decision to make the event more family friendly as CCPO was for children and they were hoping this would be a success.
Both of the event founders had been in and out of the tent, checking on the volunteers, and specifically, she got the impression they were checking on Trace.
As if they were worried about him.
A few hours later, the crew took turns sneaking off to the food tent to grab something to eat.
When Chrissie got ready to go, she did a quick visual search for Trace.
“One step ahead of you,” he said from close behind her. “Let’s grab something and get a quick nap afterward.”
“A nap?” She eyed him suspiciously. “It would be suffocating in my tent right now. Plus, I have a roomie.”
He waggled his brows. “Then you should go to my tent.”
“Do you have a tent?”
He looked upward. “Do I have a tent? Now, what kind of a question is that to ask a man?”
“A realistic one.”
He laughed. “Yes, I have a tent, Chrissie. It’s near some trees so it does have a little shade, but still, it’s probably near as hot as yours. Is that a problem?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Not a problem.”
“Good answer.”
Chrissie wouldn’t let herself question whether or not it was. She’d made her mind up that she was going to enjoy this weekend with Trace all she could. For this one weekend she’d be a normal, healthy, twenty-eight-year-old female with a sex drive, not responsible single-mom Chattanooga Chrissie.
Although thoughts of Joss, of telling Trace about Joss, kept sneaking in and Chrissie would guiltily shove them aside. She couldn’t tell Trace about Joss. He didn’t want to know. He was a good man, would feel responsible. He didn’t want children or to be tied down.
What if he did and Joss had to go through the hell Chrissie had? What if Trace took him overseas to some God-forsaken place and she never saw her son again?
Shaking her irrational fears from her mind, Chrissie went to get into the line to collect food.
“We’re not eating here,” Trace informed her.
Biting her lip, she stared at him. “We’re not?”
“Nope. Wait here.”
He walked to where a woman greeted him with a huge smile, nodded, then reached behind the counter where she was working.
She brought up a backpack and handed it to Trace. She said something to him, but Chrissie couldn’t make out her words. He laughed, nodded, then thanked the woman.
Trace grabbed a couple of bottled waters from a volunteer manning a large iced container of drinks, then took Chrissie’s hand and led her down a path away from the food station.
“You up for an adventure?”
“In your hot tent?” she guessed, by far not opposed to the idea. She was quite in favor of getting hot and sweaty with Trace. But she was pretty sure they were headed in the opposite direction from Trace’s tent. From everyone’s tents.
“Nah.” He shook his head. “I’m saving my tent for later.”
His answer piqued her curiosity. He wasn’t going to haul her to his tent first chance he got? Go figure. She’d admitted she wanted him and he was going to drag out the moment in torturous ways. If she didn’t know better she might think it was because he didn’t want her as much as she wanted him. She did know better. His desire was in his eyes every time their gazes locked.
Still, she was curious as to what he had up his sleeve. “Okay, take me on an adventure.”
