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Tara jerked her attention up from Wes’s mouth. Her heart pounded. Smooth move.
“Uh, you have ketchup?
?” She pointed to the corner of her own mouth, and he reached to wipe his lips with a napkin. “You got it,” she said quickly, turning back to focus on the people working the booth. Whew. Nice save, idiot.
He finished the burger and tossed his garbage into a can as they reached the front of the line. After she ordered, he leaned forward to look at the menu. “I thought you were joking about the Snickers bar.”
“Do you like Snickers?” she asked.
“Yeah, sure, but…not deep-fried,” he protested as she called to the lady to add one to her order. “That doesn’t even sound good,” he added in a low undertone while frowning at the menu again. “Twinkies, too?”
Tara glanced over her shoulder. “You want that instead?”
“God, no. What’s wrong with these people?”
Tara laughed, felt the tiniest twinge of guilt, but didn’t cancel the Snickers. Wes argued about paying again, but this time she won by pointing out that they weren’t on a date. To her disappointment, that shut him up real quick…which made it a no-brainer to skip going past the tattoo booth. If he didn’t want her to think this was a date, he’d run faster than she could blink if she introduced him to her parents—especially her dad.
She didn’t want Westin Carter running anywhere.
“What’s the hurry?” he asked as she started back toward the field.
She glanced at him, then straight ahead. “We’ve only got about five minutes before things kick off.”
He seemed to accept that as he led the way back to the blanket. The bright lights from the fair reached far enough that they relocated their spot without problem, and after they’d settled down, he lifted her sweater. “You want this back on?”
Having just taken a bite of warm pastry, Tara shook her head. “Nm-mm.”
Wes set it aside and held the Snickers on a stick in front of him, as if contemplating whether or not to try it. Finally, he pointed it at her, solemnly said, “Now this shows trust,” and lifted it to his lips. Tara felt yet another twinge of guilt as he bit into the treat, then relief when he “mmm’d” his appreciation.
“Is it really good?” she asked.
Wes took another bite before turning to her, suspicion evident in his expression. “You sound surprised.” She shrugged a shoulder, trying to appear indifferent. He shifted to face her directly, his gaze narrowed. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had one.”
She half-grimaced, half-smiled and shook her head no.
He inhaled with exaggerated outrage. “I feel so used…and I’m supposed to trust you?”
She laughed. “What’s it taste like?”
He held it out toward her but when she leaned in for a bite, he pulled his hand back. Her smile matched his as he slowly offered it again. Anticipating his next move, when he started to tease this time, she wrapped her fingers around his wrist and pulled the candy to her mouth. Their eyes locked as she took a small bite of the warm, sweet concoction.
Mmm. It was good. All of it—the treat and him right there in front of her. She licked her lips to dislodge a chocolaty string of melted caramel. His gaze dropped. Time slowed. He started to lean forward, and Tara caught her breath. Her lashes lowered in anticipation of his kiss.
Color exploded in the sky above them, three deafening bangs at once. Tara’s eyes opened wide. Red, blue, and green illuminated Wes’s startled expression. She blinked and sat back at the same time he did, transferring her attention to the fireworks.
“Wow.” Wes tilted his head up.
“Yeah,” Tara agreed, only she wasn’t talking about the show. For the first time in her life she was not happy with the fireworks.
Silence fell between them amidst the “oohs” and “ahs” of couples and families scattered on the field. She tore off a piece of her elephant ear and offered it to Wes, who accepted. When he held out the Snickers again without actually looking at her, Tara declined. The fireworks were amazing, but she couldn’t keep her mind off the man next to her, sitting with a forearm resting on his drawn-up knee, his other leg bent underneath.
She wanted to run her hand along that forearm and up to his shoulder. Feel the muscles, let the hair on his arm tickle her fingers. When he licked chocolate off his thumb and set his napkin off to the side, she concentrated very hard on not staring at his lips.
“Why didn’t you tell your brother about those guys?” he asked out of the blue.
She’d just popped the last bite of her dessert into her mouth and took a moment to chew while dusting the cinnamon sugar from her hands into the grass on the side. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Charlie is a little overprotective.”
“Oh, I noticed.” His gaze remained trained on the screaming streamers in the sky. “Good for Charlie.”
