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“High Striker?”
“I don’t think they used the standard-issue mallets. It felt a little light.”
“Okay, but what about knocking down the milk bottles with the baseball? If any game should be your forte, it should have been that one. Especially after I had to hear the story about how you pitched the winning game for some high school championship.”
“I struck out the best player. Did I mention that part?”
“Unfortunately, yes. And, yet, you still missed.”
“You blew in my ear!”
She threw her head back and laughed. “Did I? I don’t remember that part.”
With Sam’s lack of six foot height, messing with him had been exceedingly easy. She couldn’t resist standing on tip toes to gently blow a stream of air along his ear. It had been worth it when his wild pitch almost struck the carnival worker. He did better with the following pitches but his concentration was shot and he walked away with wounded pride, and she was thoroughly diverted.
He pulled the bill of his hat lower. “This day has done nothing but demolish my ego over and over again.”
“Aw, here. I think you need Mister Mustache more than me.” The tip of her finger went to the bill of his hat, pushing it upward.
“I don’t want your consolation prize,” he said, his face grumpy, but there was a ghost of a smile on his lips.
“Then we’ll have to think of something else to make you feel better. Let’s see. Oh, let’s go on the Ferris wheel.” Without thinking she grasped his hand and forearm, but was stopped when he remained fixed in place.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
He stared at her clinging hands and she immediately let go, realizing that grabbing him had been a little too natural. She shouldn’t have done it.
“Sorry, maybe I’m the handsy one after all. Do you not want to go?”
Sam blinked, snapping from whatever internal musings he’d been having. “No, I do. Anything you want to do. You lead, I’ll follow.”
And that’s exactly where she led him because when had riding a Ferris wheel ever been a bad idea?
Chapter Seventeen
The last timeSam had been on the Ferris wheel was with Nate. He was thirteen years old at the time, which meant his brother was eleven. They had thrown popcorn from the top, egging each other about who could get the best shot. Extra points if it landed in someone’s hair and the victim continued walking without noticing their new snack-related hair accessory. He once overheard his grandfather refer to the Sunderland brothers as the “little bastards” and he hadn’t been wrong.
Sixteen years later, Sam found himself sitting next to trouble again, but this one was an entirely different kind. Instead of him causing the mischief, he was the one who was in the cross hairs of danger. He could barely keep his breath even or his hopes low.
Here was this beautiful woman who laughed fully, flirted freely, and made him feel there was still light to be had in his life. And she had touched him, taken his arm in her smaller, softer hands, and his heart had almost stopped beating. The logical part of his brain kept warning him to lower his expectations, that nothing would ever come from this. All of it became nothing more than white noise whenever her bright hazel eyes met his.
“See?” she said. “Now aren’t you glad we didn’t win a giant bear? Think about how crowded this seat would have been.”
This was true. There was not enough room on the bench for Sam, Luna, and a giant stuffed bear. Although, perhaps it would have been nice to have a reasonable excuse to be shoved together. As it was, there was a good six inches of space between them, and six inches might as well have been six miles—as far away as Luna was from him at the moment.
Their bench started and stopped at intervals as the carnival worker swapped older riders with new ones, slowly making its way higher, not yet reaching the ride’s pinnacle of height.
“Oh, look, there’s Ross and Mia. Oh my God, that butthead is eating all my popcorn.”
He scooted closer to peer over the edge and saw where she was pointing.
“Ross! Hey, Ross!” she shouted until the couple lifted their heads in response. “You jerkwad. You owe me more popcorn.”
On the ground, Ross shook his head, before flipping popcorn in the air and catching it in his mouth.
“He’s really lucky I’m on a Ferris wheel and there’s nothing I can do about it. I need to plan my revenge,” she said.
“Should I regret getting on this ride with you?”
