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“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t. I volunteered.” She glances over at me.
“I’ve got us covered.”
She nods and turns back to the woman. “See, it’s all good. Besides, I just ate my weight in food. I could use a little more time for it to settle.”
The woman gives Palmer a grateful smile, and my chest expands with air. Palmer Setty is a breath of fresh air. Few will go out of their way to help a complete stranger. Palmer did it with kindness and grace, and it endears her to me even more.
She’s beautiful, smart, driven, funny, kind, and sexy as hell, but all that makes her even more so. She’s a unicorn in my world, and I don’t know what to do with that information. I’ve never met anyone like her, and that’s both terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
The little girl in her arms smiles at me, and I can’t help but smile back at her. “You’re a cutie,” I tell her, tapping her nose with my index finger. She rewards me with baby giggles, which takes me back to when Blakely was this little.
“Thank you again. We’re set up on a blanket, just over there.” The mom points to a quilt positioned in the shade beneath an old oak tree. There is a stroller and toys littered all around her. “My husband was supposed to come with us, but he got called into work. I didn’t want to disappoint them.” She huffs out a breath. “Thank you for helping me.”
“Anytime.” Palmer looks at me. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll meet you at the truck.” She nods, and I have the strongest urge to bend and press my lips to hers. I have to remind myself that Palmer’s not mine, and that’s not what this is, but the yearning to feel her lips against mine is strong. For the second time since we arrived, I find myself standing still to watch her walk away.
“Next!” the lady running the truck calls out.
I shake out of my Palmer haze and step up to order her a funnel cake. “One, please,” I say, handing over some money.
“Your wife is great with kids,” she comments as she counts out my change.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her she’s not my wife, to tell her she’s not my anything, but “She is,” comes out instead. The woman smiles kindly, passes me my change, and then slides a huge funnel cake covered in what appears to be half a pound of powdered sugar. I smile as I walk away. Palmer is going to enjoy the hell out of this, and I’m going to enjoy the hell out of watching her eat it.
Placing the funnel cake on the tailgate, I hop up to take a seat. From where we’re parked, I have a perfect view of Palmer and the mom with her two kids. Palmer is currently spinning in circles with the little girl on her hip while the mom gets her son settled with a juice box on the quilt. I can’t hear her laughter, but I don’t need to. The sound is already in my head, and it’s one I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forget.
When she starts heading this way, I should avert my gaze, but I can’t seem to do it. I can’t look away from her. Once she’s reached the truck, she hops up on the tailgate and immediately eats a piece of the funnel cake. “Why is this so good?”
“The sugar,” I manage to reply.
“Reminds me of being a kid at the county fair. I always had to have a funnel cake and cotton candy.” She takes another bite.
I’m still staring at her, but now it’s at the dusting of powdered sugar that rests at the corner of those pink lips I want to taste. Before I can think better of it, I reach out, swiping at the sugary powder with my thumb, and place it in my mouth. Her eyes widen, and she licks those lips like I wish I could. That light pink once again coats her cheeks, and I discover something about myself in this moment.
I have more willpower than I ever knew I possessed. Because the second thing I learned, I’d give anything to kiss Palmer Setty.
Clearing my throat, I try to maintain control of myself and the situation. “Now that I’m an uncle, and I see what sugar does to kids firsthand, I don’t know why my parents ever let us have anything with sugar in it,” I tell her.
“Right? It’s a rite of passage, though. I mean, you have to experience childhood with cotton candy, funnel cakes, deep-fried Oreos, candy apples, all the things, Brooks.”
“I’ll remember that when the Willow River County Fair comes along later this year. I’ll make sure you get your sugar fix.”
She points her long, manicured finger at me. “Don’t tempt me with a good time, mister.” Her smile is radiant, and the urge to kiss her once again washes over me.
“Not a threat,” I reply, my voice thick. “A promise.”
She visibly swallows at my words and averts her gaze. “You better eat some of this.”
Knowing I need to do something with my mouth before I decide to throw caution to the wind and kiss her, I tear off a piece of the cake and pop it in my mouth.
CHAPTERSIX
Palmer
“Thanks for indulging me,” Brooks says in the truck on the way back to Willow River.
