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“Sorry, kids. I’m taking a break. You can come back later if you’d like to finish your artwork and take them home,” I say, glancing around at all the young faces surrounding the booth. Some of the children groan, but most of them nod with understanding.
“You’re so good with children,” a mom says, running her hand down my arm. “Do you have kids of your own?”
I move away from her touch and don’t have to think hard about the answer. Perhaps it’s a bold claim, but I feel fairly confident in saying, “Yes, I have a boy.” My chest swells with pride.
“Are you single?”
“No,” I tell her more harshly than I intended. “I’m not.”
“Oh.” She backs up a few steps, and I don’t give her a second glance before leaving my booth and disappearing into the crowd.
It’s not hard to navigate all the craft booths and find Everly. Her baking truck smells divine, and nearly everyone in the vicinity has lined up for some of her cookies. Yet still, she makes time to stop and chat with each person individually. Her smile is contagious, and I find myself grinning.
I queue up behind a young couple holding hands as they whisper to each other. When I finally reach the front, Everly doesn’t recognize me right away; her brain is on autopilot.
“What can I—oh, Hunter! How’s business so far today?” Her smile lights up her entire face, and a blush creeps onto her cheekbones.
“Pretty good. Not as crazy as this, though.” I gesture to the line. “You’re popular!”
She chuckles. “Yeah, it is pretty insane. I think it’s my new macaron recipe. You didn't have to line up, though—you could have come straight to the front.”
“That takes all the fun out of it,” I tell her, pulling out my wallet. “I’ll take some of those famed macarons if you have any to spare.”
We go through the transaction, her protesting and me insisting on paying. In the end, she hands me a bag full of raspberry macarons, and I give her a hefty tip.
“When’s your break?” I ask, stuffing my face with the carefully balanced sweet-yet-tart dessert.
She leans back to check the clock inside. “I’m thinking in about an hour and a half. Why?” I wiggle my eyes suggestively, and her blush deepens. “Hunter!”
I laugh. It feels good to tease her and watch her mouth turn up into a reluctant smile. “Get your head out of the gutter! I was going to say we could go for a walk and check out some of the other booths. What do you say?”
She pretends to think about it but eventually concedes. “I’d love to.”
“Great. Is Preston around?”
“Yeah, he’s hiding out back here. Preston, Hunter is here. Go say hi.”
Not long after, the small boy rushes out to greet me. He flings his arms around my waist, and I pat him on the back. I step out of line and allow the next customer to go to the window.
I kneel so we’re on the same level. “I’ll have to clear it with the boss lady first, but would you want to come help me at my stand next weekend? I’ll give you a commission for everything you sell. That way, you won’t have to hang out in the cookie booth not eating cookies.”
His eyes widen, and a grin spreads across his face. “I’d love to help!” Then, his eyes narrow in confusion. “What’s a commission?”
I think for a moment. I’ve never had to explain it before, and I don’t want to confuse him more than necessary. “Every piece you manage to sell, I’ll give you money from what it’s worth. So, say you sell something for fifty dollars, I’ll give you five. Deal?”
He nods. His face drops to seriousness, and he sticks out his arm while puffing out his chest. I stand and shake his hand.
“Pleasure doing business with you, Hunter,” he says, lowering his voice a few octaves. I see his mouth twitch while he fights to keep himself neutral. “I’ll see you next weekend, then?”
I fight to keep my own face neutral. “Affirmative, partner. I’ll see you then.”
With that, Preston steps into the food truck. From the open window where Everly currently works, I hear Preston’s squeal of delight as he tells his mother about the entire encounter. I smile at the kid’s happiness.
And maybe, justmaybe, I smile because of my pure delirium.
Chapter Seven Everly
By the time the weekend rolls back around, I can hardly wait to see Hunter. We’re taking things slow, giving each other space to maintain our lives. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about him every minute since I last saw him.
