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Your delicious son.
“Nothing.” I pick up a box of small dogs welded from leftover pieces of bolts and pipes.
“Mm-hmm. Something to do with my jackass son?” If the old man knew what I did with his son, we’d be having an entirely different conversation.
“How did your night with Rune go?”
He smirks. “I don’t kiss and tell.”
I elbow his side. “So there was kissing?”
“There was more than kissing.”
I laugh and groan at the same time, but I’m happy for him. He hasn’t given a woman two glances since his wife died before Johnny took off. I didn’t know if he ever would.
We mix in his painted orange rim pumpkins to give the booth a Halloween feel. The dogs and pumpkins are smaller pieces compared to his side tables and chairs welded together with massive coils and large roller chains.
Johnny helps me drape purple and orange string lights along the ceiling of the tent. We scatter small pumpkins here and there and our LED candles on the metal candelabras.
“Here.” Johnny tosses me a bag of fake cobwebs. “I grabbed these in town. Thought they’d give a spooky feel.” He rips open the bag he holds.
I follow suit. I’ll give him credit for an idea well done. The white web stretches across the front of the tables and in the tent corners. When we finish, the booth looks spooktacular.
“I think we pulled it off.” Otto’s beer can hisses when he pops it open.
“Dad, I don’t think you’re supposed to be drinking. That’s what the beer tent is for.”
“Mind your own damn business, Son.” He slugs back a mouthful before stomping through the tent. “Let’s get the mattresses blown up before the barbecue.” He circles the table along the back wall and slips between the material tent doors. The back of the utility trailer is parked snugly against the back tent doors, giving easy access both ways.
“You’re really spending the night here? In the trailer? With my old man?”
“Shhh,” I hiss at Johnny. “You never know who’s listening. Help me fasten these walls down for the night.”
He struts his tight ass to the front corner pole. I meet him on the opposite corner, and we roll down the front tent wall.
“I think you two are taking this whole vendetta a little far.” He begins fastening the Velcro on his corners.
“You didn’t have to clean it up last year.” I kneel down and fasten my corner, starting from the ground and moving upward. “A lot of vendors ended up with broken inventory that they’d spent the year preparing for. It cost them money and their time, and no one saw anything.”
“That is a shame.”
“We’re not going to sit around and let it happen again.” I stand, needing a step stool to reach the top corner. I stretch my arms upward and secure the Velcro I can reach.
I feel Johnny’s warm body behind me, pinning me against the corner of the tent without actually touching me. His arms stretch above us, and he seals the Velcro out of my reach.
I lower my arms, and when I turn, he doesn’t move. “I could stay with you in the trailer. Let the old man go home for the night. Just me and you, Gratton.”
My body tingles in all the right places.
I force my mind to focus. “A one-night stand is one night. We’re not hooking up again.”
“Who said anything about hooking up? I plan to be the perfect gentleman.” The twinkle in his eyes suggests otherwise.
“I find that hard to believe.”
“I can be a gentleman.” The low and husky way he says the words sounds anything but gentlemanly. The way his head dips down and his hot breath kisses my skin is far from gallant.
I half expect him to try and kiss me, but I also know he wouldn’t dare make the first move. Not after I’ve clearly said no. And no is my final answer. I can’t be more than friends with Johnny Creed ... right?
