“I haven’t noticed anyone special in your life, either,” Zane grumbled. Although he had noticed Ben sneaking surreptitious glances toward Amy Winthrop, the bartender. “Speaking of women, do you know anything about Alex Hunt? She’s living next to me temporarily, house-sitting for Kelsey and Dave Comer.”
“We should ask Grace.” Ben nodded at his crutches. “I haven’t exactly been man about town lately. Thank God the festival starts this weekend. I’m going stir-crazy.”
Frederick-Fest was a weeklong annual tradition that attracted tourists from all over the state and vendors from all over the country. Zane would be working some shifts to assist with security and crowd control.
“Will you be mobile enough to volunteer at the festival?” Zane asked.
“Not in my usual capacity, but I can work the first aid booth when other people need a lunch break. And Amy and I are going to sit at a table handing out promotional stuff for the restaurant.”
“Ah.” Zane smirked. “The lovely Amy.”
“Who’s Amy?”
Both men started as Eden slid back into her chair. Apparently she’d killed as much time as she possibly could in the restroom by braiding her blond hair and applying far too much makeup.
Zane did a double take. “Any particular reason you’re trying to make yourself look like a raccoon?”
Slashes of red appeared on her cheeks, and he regretted his words. He didn’t approve of the pound of cosmetics she’d slathered on her face, but he shouldn’t embarrass her in front of Ben. He was grateful when Ben answered her question, heading off any sarcastic retort.
“Amy is my sister’s roommate. She works here.” He gestured toward the bar and waved.
A pretty woman with purple-tinted hair waved back, making Zane ashamed of his knee-jerk reaction. Amy, with her tattoo and the line of earrings adorning her ear, was kindhearted and responsible. Maybe he shouldn’t let a couple of pink streaks in Eden’s hair and her enthusiastic use of eyeliner bother him so much.
“I was just telling your dad,” Ben continued, “that Amy and I will be working a shift at the festival. It starts this weekend.”
“Yeah, I heard some kids in class talking about a festival.” Eden sounded intrigued.
“We used to go every year as a family,” Zane said. “You remember the pony rides and all the food? I used to dance with you.”
“Ew.” Eden’s grimace made it clear she would not welcome a dance with her father at the polka pavilion.
Their waiter appeared, plates of hot entrées lined up his arm in such a seemingly precarious way that it was a miracle he hadn’t dropped everything on his walk from the kitchen.
“You’re going to love the food,” Ben promised. He’d expressed surprise when he’d learned this was Eden’s first visit to the Jalapeño, admonishing Zane that two and a half weeks was far too long a wait.
Ben’s words proved prophetic. After the first few bites, Eden wolfed down her food with the gusto and appetite Zane remembered from his own teenage years—when his mother used to tease that he couldn’t come grocery shopping with her because he’d eat half the purchases in the car before she could get them home. Between Eden’s enjoyment of the food and periodic questions about the festival, it was the most animated Zane had seen her since her arrival.
God bless the Torres family, he found himself thinking at the end of the evening. Chef Grace Torres had come to their table to say hi and make sure everything was delicious, and Eden had seemed a little starstruck to meet someone who was going to appear on a reality show.
Grace had explained that the producers wanted to film the cooking competition during the festival. “When the first episode airs, Amy and I are going to host a viewing party. You and your dad will have to come. Unless of course I lose. In which case, I plan to hibernate for a year in the longest pity party Gillespie County has ever seen.”
“There’s no way you can lose,” Eden had protested. “Your food is awesome!”
But once they were in the truck after dinner, Zane was on his own again, without Ben or Grace to ride to his rescue. “Glad you liked dinner,” he told his daughter. “We’ll have to eat there more often.”
Eden nodded promptly—confirming that the Jalapeño was the first thing she officially liked about Fredericksburg—but remained quiet.
He cleared his throat. “I, uh...I shouldn’t have said you look like a raccoon.”
She flinched, which wasn’t the reaction he’d hoped to get.
“I have to be at the festival most of the weekend,” he said. “Want to come with me and check it out?” When she shrugged noncommittally, he played the ace up his sleeve. “Ben mentioned the other day that Grace and the other contestants on that reality show will be doing some live demonstrations. You want an in-person sneak peek? Who knows—if the camera crew pans the audience, maybe you’ll end up on TV, too.”
She swiveled in her seat. “You think so? That would be awesome.”
“I don’t see why not. It happens at sporting events all the time. The producers might even interview people to get their opinion on the food. If there’s one thing the festival has plenty of, it’s food.”
“What about rides?” Eden asked. “I love roller coasters.”
“Well, there aren’t any big coasters, but there are some carnival rides.” He was giving her a rundown of attractions and scheduled events when they pulled up in front of the house.
Eden was engaged enough in the conversation that when he walked down the driveway to get the mail, she came with him rather than disappear into the house. A high-pitched “Hey, Mister Zane!” caused them both to turn at the same time.
In the driveway next door, Belle and her mother were walking toward their beater of a car. The vehicle was easily older than Eden. Hell, it might be older than him.
Even in the dim illumination provided by the streetlight, he could see Alex scowl. Now that he’d had time to mull it over, he was almost certain she was going through a divorce. Maybe she was at that stage where she disliked all men. It was a more palatable explanation than her hating him personally, for no discernible reason.
“Hey, Belle,” he called back, not breaking stride as he proceeded to the mailbox. The Hunts were obviously on their way out, and he didn’t plan to intrude on Alex’s evening.
“Who’s the cute little kid?” Eden asked.
“Temporary neighbors, house-sitting for the people who live there. They moved in about the same time you got here.” Too bad Belle wasn’t a decade older. Then maybe she and Eden could commiserate about both being new girls.
Eden seemed unbothered by the age difference, though. She was already walking toward the other two females. “Hi,” she chirped. “I’m Eden Winchester. I like your crown!”
Belle wore yet another tiara—this one paired with a feather boa. She preened at Eden’s compliment, but then frowned. “Did you get hit in the face? I saw a movie where a bad guy got hit and his eye looked like that. But it was just one, not both.”
Alex slapped a palm to her forehead. “That’s not nice, Belle.”
“I didn’t get punched,” Eden said. “It’s makeup.”
“Oh!” Belle brightened. “I love makeup. I have a whole kit. Nail polish and lipstick and skin glitter. You should play makeup with me, and I’ll show you how. Yours looks funny.”
“Like a raccoon?” Eden flashed a grin over her shoulder, and Zane’s heart squeezed in his chest. He felt as if he and his daughter shared a joke, as if they were finally a team rather than