“He was seven. I took a summer job as his nanny. I was—” she glanced up at him, her eyes teasing “—in college. I didn’t finish.” She lifted one shoulder. “Unfortunately.”
“Me neither. The only subject I was interested in at the time was college rodeo. But I don’t say it was unfortunate. I say, fortunately I can go back when I’m ready.” He tuned in to the distant echo of the rodeo announcer talking up the final event. Bull riding. Unless a buddy was entered up, Trace didn’t care to stick around for the grand finale. “I was ten when Logan came along,” he went on. “It’s never too late for good fortune.”
“Or snow cones,” Skyler said cheerfully as she dragged her boot heels to a halt. He followed her gaze to the top of a tiny stand. Big Bad Ice.
“You want one?” Matching her delight, his cool was blown.
“No.” She went from straight face to sassy smile. “But I’ll have some cotton candy.”
He let her taste his purple snow cone and she fed him wisps of spun pink sugar. They shared a deep-fried funnel cake and a crisp cone full of frozen custard. She sang “Happy Birthday” to him over the cake and he smiled at the way her tongue stormed that tower of custard, her green eyes flashing as she left no surface unlicked. He pointed to the drip at the point of the cone and she caught it before it escaped and then sucked noisily for good measure. She caught him staring.
“Your turn.” She lifted the tongue-marked treat close to his mouth. “Sorry, but it’s melting so fast and it’s the kind that needs licking.”
“I know the feeling.”
“Well, we’ve already exchanged …” she said, as Trace plunged the tip of his tongue into custard, curled it and scooped out a substantial niche. “Oh.”
“Don’t give me that look. It was my turn.” He licked his lips as he scanned new midway territory. “You like to play games, too, don’t you?”
“That’s what birthdays are all about. Fun and games.” She handed him the rest of the ice cream, lighting up as she pointed at a new attraction. “Ring-toss! Now we’re talking.” And she was walking off on him again. She had the prettiest, most purposeful stride he’d seen on a woman, and her jeans loved her for it.
But his knee didn’t. He did a little hop-step as he followed her to a stand that housed an arrangement of bottles and an array of stuffed toys.
“Slow down, honey, you’ve got an injured man here.”
She turned in front of the stand, smiling and giving him the come-on as if nobody was hurting. “I’m gonna win you a birthday present.”
“It’s your birthday?” the burly huckster asked as he spread three plastic rings on the counter. “First toss is on the house, then. Happy birthday, cowboy.”
“Getting older and better,” Skyler reported as she reached into her purse. “He gave a fearless performance a while ago.”
“Let me guess,” the man said. “Bronc rider.”
“That, too,” she quipped. Trace laughed, elbowing her as he slapped some cash on the counter. She snatched it up ahead of the ringtoss man and tucked it under the flap of his Western-style shirt pocket. “Pick your prize, and it’s yours.”
He smiled into her eyes. “I only see one thing I want, and I’ll have to win that myself.”
“The sky’s the limit.”
“Then I’m all in.”
“And I’m all ears, waitin’ to hear who’s payin’,” said the huckster. “Sounds like the lady’s landed her share of rings.”
Trace warned the man with a look—the lady was in no way his business—and then glanced at the next booth. “How are you at knocking down milk bottles?”
“This is my game. Really. It doesn’t pay well, but I’m very good at lots of things that don’t pay well.”
She traded cash for plastic rings and then she sized up the targets. “What should I go for?”
“A rabbit’s foot.” He gave a nod. “That pink one.”
“That’s too easy. Pick a top-row prize.” She pointed to the big stuffed bunny.
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