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Martha clapped her hands together, her bangles clacking with the motion. “That’ll show Connie!”
“I predict next year you’ll have your usual spot back,” Allison said. Martha hugged and thanked her before she and Reid headed away from her booth. Larry was already in line for another food truck.
“What does she have to show Connie?” Reid asked.
“Do you really want to know?”
“No, not really. I don’t even know why I asked.”
“Because deep down you really do care about town gossip.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I’m not arguing with you.”
“Why? You’re so good at it.”
He let out a loud breath and yanked his sunglasses on, covering his pretty baby blues.
“Martha didn’t give Connie a discount, so Connie punished Martha by putting her booth at the ends of the earth.”
“I said I didn’t care.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
He cracked a smile, and she swore she saw a pig take flight. “You should do that more.”
“What?”
“Smile. It makes you less intimidating.”
“I’m not intimidating.”
Allison’s laugh carried across the festival grounds. “I have this theory you’re the reason the crime rate is so low in our town.”
“Me?” he exclaimed, his voice actually going up an octave.
“Yes you. I think people are too scared of you.”
“Nobody is scared of me.”
She pressed her lips together and arched an eyebrow. “Terrified is more like it.”
“You’re being ridiculous. I am not terrifying.”
“You’re a big, hulking man who is shrouded in mystery.”
“Mystery? I’m the sheriff of a town that would win gold if gossip was an Olympic sport. I can’t piss without the town knowing.”
“It’s not about your current self, but your past. Nobody knows anything about where you came from. You just showed up one day.” The investigator journalist inside of her thought about digging, but she never did. She was never really sure why either, but now, looking beyond the dark lens of his glasses to the eyes beneath, she realized. She didn’t want to find out about his past through research; she wanted him to tell her.
“My past is no one’s business.”
“Where were you born?” she asked, ignoring the finality in his tone.
“None of your business.” His glare told her to stop, but she never backed down from him before, and she wasn’t about to start now.
