Chapter Sixteen

So far, the table where kids could decorate their own cupcakes had been a smashing success. A messy one, and now several children were sugared up and running around like overgrown hummingbirds, but a win—and a nice moneymaker—nonetheless.

“I still can’t believe you got Lottie to agree to this,” Maisy said, slinging an arm around Violet’s shoulders. “It was such a relief not to have to decorate them all.”

After watching Maisy stress all morning, Violet had suggested that instead of a cakewalk, they should let people frost and decorate themselves. Maisy replied that it was a genius plan, one that would make her life easier, but that Lottie would never go for it.

So Violet had trudged over to the craft store to convince the woman.

“That’s what sisters are for. Scaring old ladies into agreeing with them.”

“It’s like you took on the witch from Hansel and Gretel and won. Seriously, you need to teach me your secrets.”

Funny enough, Violet had learned quite a bit about Lottie. For one, she’d never cared much for Mayor Hurst’s policies or his “holier-than-thou attitude.” This came out after Violet informed her that while the mayor was her father, she was an Abrams. It was the first time she’d felt like not being an official Hurst in Uncertainty had helped instead of weighed her down.

Nevertheless, when she’d told Lottie “We’ve decided to forgo the cakewalk in favor of having kids decorate their own cupcakes,” fire had flared in the depths of the woman’s eyes.

Old Violet might’ve backed down. The new version was working on Ford’s who-cares-what-others-think method.

“We already have the cakewalk circle of chairs set up. Tell Maisy to have the prizes there by five. Doors open at six.”

“Here’s the thing…” Violet worked to remain firm as her insides trembled. “I’m not asking. Having the kids decorate will keep them occupied, and they’ll still walk away with a treat. I’ll drag a table in myself if I have to. Maisy is a new mom, and she’s running a business by herself. I’m not going to add more stress to her plate, and neither will you.”

The way Lottie’s jaw hit the floor made Violet think no one had ever challenged her before. At long last, the woman had nodded and snatched the cup of coffee and bag with the bear claw from Violet’s grasp.

Now, out of the corner of her eye, Violet caught sight of Ford. When she’d texted earlier to ask if she’d see him at the bazaar, he’d claimed it wasn’t really his scene, so she hadn’t expected him to show. Thanks to the arduous day, it seemed like eons instead of hours since she’d seen him last.

He looked damn good, too, all big and burly, and that freaking swagger…

Desire heated her veins, catapulting her pulse to a primitive rhythm, and she barely refrained from sprinting over, throwing her arms around him, and claiming him as hers in front of everyone.

It’s only been one night.

One amazing night. Plus the other times they’d hung out, but she wasn’t sure those counted, since they’d been more friendly with flirting than flirting with intent.

What if he wants to keep us on the down low? Her stomach wrenched at the idea, the assertiveness she’d gleaned earlier today wavering.

His eyes locked onto hers, and time lost all meaning…

A slow smile spread across his face, and he changed directions on a dime, heading her way. Butterflies overtook Violet’s internal organs, their flailing wings stirring up hope and returning her courage.

“Well, what do we have here?” Ford asked once he reached the table.

“We’ve been busy decorating.” Violet gestured to the cupcakes in front of her. “Want one?”

“Does anyone ever actually say no to that?”

“Can’t say I’ve run across anyone yet.”

His gaze remained on hers as he leaned closer. “Gimme some sugar.”

Violet met him halfway, but instead of kissing him, she picked up a chocolate cupcake and jammed it into his mouth. Too late, she realized it was similar to a cake cutting at a wedding.

While her brain fretted over that, Ford grabbed a vanilla cupcake and shoved it in the vicinity of her mouth.

They swiped at each other, squealing and giggling and painting buttercream and chocolate frosting over each other’s faces.

After an opposite tug-of-war, Ford hauled her upper body over a relatively empty part of the table and planted his lips on hers.

What started as a game morphed into the tastiest greeting in history. The exquisite stroke of his tongue had her curling a hand in his T-shirt and relinquishing control. A protest drifted up as his mouth released hers.

Then Ford cupped her chin, twisted her head to the side, and gave her cheek a languid lick. Violet attempted a swallow and failed.

“Y’all are gonna need to get a room,” Maisy said. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m missing my husband even more after that display, but this table hosts mostly children.”

Violet managed to straighten despite her quaking legs. She’d been so caught up in the kiss, she’d forgotten people might be watching. More than that, with her lips still tingling from the kiss, she found she didn’t care. “Sorry,” she said to Maisy. “Kinda.”

Her sister made a shooing motion. “You’ve helped me enough today. Go enjoy the bazaar.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Violet rushed around the table, and once she and Ford reached the pathway where people were strolling around, he grabbed her hand and laced his fingers with hers.

As Violet walked past the rows of quilts on display, she slowed. They hung from a clothesline, numbered squares of paper pinned to the fabric. Each one boasted bright colors, intricate designs, and beautiful patterns. Hours of work that led to artwork blankets that could keep you warm, not only because of the fabric and batting but because you could see the amount of love that’d gone into every stitch.

For years, she’d thought of Uncertainty as the small town where everyone was all up in one another’s business, but tonight she felt the strong sense of community. Most of Uncertainty’s residents had shown up to support and raise money for the historical society so they could preserve their forefathers’ legacy.

The fact that surrounding towns pitched in caused Violet to see the place in a whole new light.

Ford tugged her to the left, toward a kids’ plastic swimming pool filled with toy fish. “Time to show off my impressive fishin’ skills.”

“I’m pretty sure this is a kids’ game,” she said, and he placed a finger on her lips and shushed her.

“Don’t scare ’em away.” For some reason, he’d taken on an Australian accent. “Crikey, you’d think this was your first time.”

“It is my first time fishing.”

“Fishin’,” Ford corrected with a smirk that had her rolling her eyes and giggling.

Ford greeted a woman with salt-and-pepper hair that had been twisted up in an intricate bun. He placed a couple dollar bills on the table. “Tell her how it’s done, Misaki.”

“Oh, I only agreed to run this booth so I could watch the excited faces of the kids. I don’t do the fishing,” she said with a laugh as she handed over the fishing pole. “I am much better at crochet.”

“See those stuffed animals?” Ford asked. Crocheted bunnies, pigs, dogs, cats, and other animals of every size and color covered two of the three tables surrounding her. “Misaki makes them herself.”

“It is called amigurumi. A Japanese art my grandmother taught me when I was a young girl.”

“They’re so cute,” Violet said, picking up the purple pig that caught her eye. “If I tried to make something like this, I’d end up with a ball of tangled yarn.”

Misaki laughed, the sound happy and full. “I will teach you someday if you want to learn.”

Violet’s heart turned sappy on her. This woman had met her two seconds ago, and she was offering crochet lessons? How sweet was that?

Add the crowd of people milling about, laughing and enjoying the event, and Maisy’s suggestion to stay in Uncertainty permanently held more and more of an appeal.

“…medication, right?” Ford asked, and Violet jerked her attention to the conversation going on in front of her.

“I promise. I bought one of those pill boxes with the days of the week, just like you told me to,” Misaki said, and Violet filled in the blank—Ford had asked if the woman was taking her meds. Just in time, too, because Misaki looked at her. “One day this past winter, I couldn’t remember if I had taken my medicine or not, so I took my pill. Only I had taken it, and doubling up made me so dizzy I passed out. My daughter found me and called 911.”

Okay, so she was slightly off but close. “Let me guess. Ford showed up.”

Misaki nodded. “Yes, thank goodness. He took good care of me. Now he always asks if I’m being careful with my medication.”

Ford rubbed at his neck, bashful on the one point he could be arrogant about. “Yeah, so anyway…” He lifted the fishing pole. “Shall we get started?”

The magnet hit the water with a kerplunk, and Ford dragged it around in search of a fish. A blue-and-green fin snagged the end, and Ford jerked the pole. “Whoa, it’s a big one.” He hooked his hand on Violet’s hip and navigated her in front of him. “I’m gonna need help reeling it in.”

Indulging him in the game—mostly because it meant having his strong arms caging her in—Violet took the offered fishing pole. As he instructed her to go slow and steady so she wouldn’t lose the fish, he wrapped his hands around hers, as if she needed the support.

Considering the way her heart skipped a few beats, it might be hampering her skills, but it’d be a chilly day in hell before she asked him to let go.

Out came the fish, droplets of water flicking them as Ford grabbed the string and swung him closer.

Misaki clapped, as if they’d accomplished a great feat. Then she took the pole and toy fish and pointed at the carnival prizes. “You can choose any one of these.”

A boy with ebony curls and tawny skin toddled by, and Ford greeted his parents—Darius the firefighter and a woman with ivory skin and fiery red hair—and asked if Trevon wanted to pick a prize.

Ford placed his hand on her shoulder. “Remember Violet? Maisy’s sister?”

Darius stretched out his hand, and as Violet took hold, she said, “Ford’s being nice, leaving out the part about the fire at the bakery.”

Darius chuckled and introduced his wife, Willow, and his son. Then Ford lifted Trevon so he could choose a prize. The toddler settled on a toy truck, and Ford set him down and ruffled his hair.

Before she could remind herself not to get carried away, the strings that made up Violet’s heart gave a sharp tug. How was she supposed to avoid falling for a guy who had a giant heart that he inexplicably tried to keep hidden?

Not that he was very successful—the secret was definitely out.

After waving goodbye to Darius and his darling family, Ford leaned in and whispered something to Misaki. Her face lit up as she took the twenty-dollar bill from Ford and tucked it in her cash box.

Ford placed his hand on the small of Violet’s back. “The toys are for the kids, but Misaki is also selling her… Oh, I’m gonna butcher it, but here it goes anyway. Her amigomi.”

“Amigurumi,” Misaki kindly corrected with a titter.

“Yeah, that.” Ford’s thumb slipped under the hem of Violet’s shirt, a quick brush that left her dizzy. “So, go ahead and pick one.”

As a teenager, she’d daydreamed a date that went this way—and standing next to Ford, his thumb hypnotizing her more with each swipe, she felt like that overly romantic girl she used to be once again.

Violet scanned the crocheted animals, pausing on the purple pig she’d picked up earlier. But then the white-and-black-speckled dog caught her gaze, and everything in her shouted that one. “Can I please have the dalmatian?”

Misaki handed it over, and Violet hugged it to her chest. “I love him already. I’m gonna name him…McGuire.”

One of Ford’s dark eyebrows arched.

“Get it? Because he’s a firefighter dog and you’re a firefighter?”

“But I train German shepherds.”

“Well if you’re so picky, McGuire,” she said, addressing the stuffed puppy instead of the guy at her side, “I’ll have to get you a German shepherd to play with someday.”

Ford shook his head, but that sexy indent popped in his cheek.

They thanked Misaki and told her goodbye, and once they were a few steps away, Violet curled in close for a kiss. As she moved her lips against Ford’s, she took a second to inhale his cologne and soak in the way he towed her closer and nipped at her lower lip.

If she got any happier, she might float right up to the ceiling next to the helium-filled balloon some kid was probably regretting letting go of.

“What next?” Ford asked.

“I need to thank Lottie before I forget.” She took a step, but Ford went full statue, his feet cemented to the floor.

“Sweetheart, I would do most anything you asked. But that woman and I have a long history, and I’d only be a detriment.”

“Oh, come on.” A tug, and he reluctantly began to move again. “She’s not that scary.”

“Hell yes she is. You haven’t seen her after a puppy’s dug up her flowerbed—not one of mine, for the record. Tucker’s old dog, Casper, got into her yard one day while we were…doing kid stuff, and she came charging after us. Regardless of not knowing why, we were all terrified.”

“Describe this kid stuff,” Violet said.

“We might’ve been changing the marquee at the school from ‘Due to the championship football game, no class on Friday’ to ‘no ass on Friday.’”

Violet giggled. She could totally see him and his friends doing that back in the day.

“Then there was the time we moved the soda machine into the school elevator. It was Addie’s idea, and she was the smallest, so she pulled while we pushed. Then—since there was hardly an inch of room to spare, save the top—she climbed up and over to sneak back out.

“Lottie was at the school that day for some reason. I think she was picking up her daughter.” Ford secured Violet to his side as they skirted past the ring toss booth. “A few of the teachers thought it was funny, but not Lottie. She pointed at me, Shep, Addie, and Tucker and said, ‘I guarantee those are your culprits right there.’”

“In her defense, she wasn’t wrong.”

His sigh held mock disappointment. “You must’ve been one of those goody-goody kids.”

Violet gasped, even though he wasn’t exactly wrong. “Well, in my defense, the school I went to wouldn’t have found it funny or even referred to it as a prank. I would’ve been suspended at the least, and I was all too aware that I needed perfect grades and a spotless record in order to get a scholarship if I wanted to go to college.”

Ford dodged a family of five with a double stroller. “I reckon I would’ve ended up in juvie if I’d grown up in a city instead of this small town.” He jerked his chin toward the table just down the way.

Lottie sat behind a row of clipboards, chatting with Nellie Mae, who’d approached her in the Old Firehouse a couple weekends ago and outed her presence to Dad. The tablecloth had a sign over the front, identifying them as the “Craft Cats,” a ball of yarn speared through with knitting needles on one side and a cat on the other.

“Is this where we deliver the catnip?” Violet asked, and the two women furrowed their brows as the guy at her side snorted a laugh.

Tough crowd. Violet cleared her throat and tried again. “Lottie, I just wanted to thank you for switching up the layout for Maisy. I super appreciate it, and she does, too. Everyone’s loving decorating the cupcakes themselves.”

Lottie crossed her arms over her ample bosom. “I hope you’re not spreading that news around. If I make an exception for you, people will be clamoring for me to do the same for them.”

“Um, okay. Anyway, thanks again.”

Lottie’s gaze lifted to Ford. “Mr. McGuire. Good to see you out supporting our community. Although I seem to remember you tellin’ me that you’d be too busy tonight to be our auctioneer.”

“My, uh, schedule freed up. A bit. Not enough to be here for the whole auction, but enough to—”

“Accompany Miss Abrams. Yes, I see that. Shame, though. You’re so good at running your mouth.”

Shock left Violet blinking at the older woman. Residual nervousness rose up, as in she now realized how scared she should’ve been to ask for the switch-up.

That was some brutal honesty, which Violet had always considered someone justifying being rude before running their mouth. Despite what those type claimed, there was a way to be honest without the brutality.

Angry heat flared, setting fire to every other emotion. “As the biggest busybody in town, you could surely give him a run for his money.” Violet hooked her hand in the crook of Ford’s elbow. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, my escort and I need to go find a corner to make out in.”

Seriously, if she hadn’t had the positive interactions with Misaki and so many of the other townsfolk earlier, Violet would be tempted to storm all the way out of the building.

As soon as they’d stepped away, Ford said, “You didn’t have to do that. I can handle it.”

“Well, I can’t. I swear half this town is blind.” It seemed to be the wealthier, older half, too. Or maybe that was her biases rising up.

“It’s the yin and yang of small towns. Sometimes you can’t outgrow your reputation. Or your father’s or grandfather’s. Particularly with the older generation.” Ford shrugged. “Several have come around, though. And when it comes to Lottie, it’s personal. One of her daughters married and then divorced my brother, and her other daughter just got divorced as well, so I think she’s bitter at men in general.”

“She shouldn’t take that out on you.” Hypocritical, perhaps, since she’d sworn off men herself. Not that she’d lasted long.

“I’d rather her aim it at me than someone else. Like I said, I can handle it.” Ford banded his arm around her shoulders and nuzzled her neck. “But I appreciate that you worry about me.”

Would he appreciate that she more-than-worried?

Evidently her give-a-damn was broken tonight, so she ran with it. “I get that reputations can be hard to overcome, but to blame you for something your father or your brother did…?”

Thanks to her past, she was extra passionate about the subject. It just took seeing people judging Ford for her to get pissed enough to say something about it.

“That sucks, and people should get over it. Seriously, if you weren’t around, who would put out the town’s fires? Who’d show up for medical emergencies and find their lost loved ones in the wilds of Alabama?”

Ford hung his head, his skin reddening slightly. “You’re making me sound much cooler and more important than I am.”

“Is that…?” Violet reached up as if to wipe something off his face. “You got a little humility right—” She smudged her thumb across the corner of his mouth. “There. I think I got it all.”

His eyes locked onto hers, amusement twinkling in the green depths. “Oh, good. I’d hate for anyone else to see that. It’d be so embarrassing.”

“Does that mean you kinda sorta care what they think once in a while?” Violet leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

He lowered his head so that his forehead touched hers. “I care about what one person in here thinks.” He used his thumbs to tip up her chin and close the scant distance between their mouths.

While it was one of the more chaste kisses they’d shared and lasted only a second or so, it felt more intimate. Like wrapping yourself in a fleece blanket and sinking onto the couch at the end of the day next to someone you loved.

It was the type of desire she’d tried to snuff out six months ago. One that had her picturing a picket fence and a couple of kids running around the grassy yard as she and her husband sat on a porch swing, watching on and sipping their lemonade.

Because of this particular guy, Pyro and Trouble jumped into the mix as well. Even though, like with the man, she wasn’t supposed to go getting attached.

Uneasiness bobbed its head, even as Violet assured herself it wasn’t a big deal. As long as she kept the longing off her face. The last thing she wanted was to scare Ford off.

Then again, maybe she should find out now if he’d run from commitment.

She wasn’t asking for forever. Just that one day he might be open to more than…whatever they were.

“What would you say if I told you I was considering staying in Uncertainty for good?” The question burst out of her, and Violet held her breath, scrutinizing his features as she awaited his answer.

“If you want to stay, you should. Even as biased as Lottie is, I guarantee if you or I or anyone else in town needed help, she’d show up. And while it was hard growing up with the McGuire reputation looming over me, plenty of others have shown me kindness and made me who I am today.

“I worked a summer at Martin’s Trading Post, and when it came time to pay for college, my boss gave me a loan, no interest. One he refused to let me pay back after I graduated.”

That was it. No more, no less. Not particularly what she’d hoped for, yet if he told her she should move here, she might balk at that, too.

Still, was he trying to talk her into it? Or out of it?

“Hello, Violet.” The voice made her freeze in place—not because it’d been cold. No, Cheryl Hurst had the kind of voice that’d persuade you to thank her for driving an ice pick into your eye.