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Taking my hand, he says softly, “Yeah, we did.”
Yellow and green fireworks are next, then gold sparkly ones.
“They’re all so beautiful,” I breathe out.
Squeezing my hand, Arden says, “Beautiful like you, sweetheart.”
Damn, this man.
He leans his head against mine, and together we watch the rest of the colorful display. I feel so close to him, in so many ways. My heart just feels so full. I can’t wait to get home and have his cotton-candy kisses covering my body.
But then the night takes an odd turn when we, along with the crowd, are streaming out of the grandstand, and a very pretty, very tan woman with long blonde hair and wearing a tight hot pink dress waves at Arden.
And I mean, this chick is waving at him like he’s her best friend.
He’s not, damn it.
He’s mine.
I feel a surge of jealousy, and then I get a weird vibe, which is confirmed when his hand, joined with mine, stiffens.
“Do you know her?” I ask.
“No.” He steers us in a different direction, and as he does, I watch the woman’s expression tighten. “It’s probably just some random Thunder fan.”
Hmm, I don’t know about that.
Arden is definitely not acting like his usual self, so I press. “But she seemed like she knew you, like personally.”
“Well, she doesn’t.” Shrugging and obviously wanting this conversation to end, he says curtly, “Some fans are like that. They feel like they know you personally. It just is what it is, Willow.”
So he says, but my Spidey-sense tells me there’s more to this.
Unfortunately, I don’t have a chance to delve deeper. On the way home, Arden claims he’s tired and not feeling so great.
I’m a little stunned.
“So, wait, you’re not coming in?” I ask when he pulls into my driveway, clearly ready to drop me off.
He shakes his head. “No, not tonight. I think all that junk food and spinning rides have finally gotten to me.”
I don’t know about that, but something sure has.
“But I thought…” I trail off, as I’m not about to beg him and look desperate.
He leans over and kisses me with lips that still taste of cotton candy. But the sweetness is bitter. Something is way off here.
I can tell Arden is distracted, and I’m sure this has to be about the woman in the hot pink dress.
But now is not the time to get into it. He wants to go, he’s antsy as hell.
So we say good night, and I get out of his car.
From the doorstep, I watch as he drives away.
After I’m inside the house, I lean back against the door and think about how the night was perfect until the end.
Arden clearly didn’t want to interact with that woman. Despite what he said, she sure as hell wasn’t some “random fan.”
