Serenity Falls(72)
“Oh, yes, the hat does have quite an effect on me, but it’s the flowers in your hand that did me in,” I say huskily as I lean down, barely brushing my lips against his.
“Oh, yeah.” He lets me slide down his body before he releases me. He clears his throat while he hands me the flowers. “These are for you.”
The beautiful bouquet is a mixture of white daisies, yellow roses, and orange chrysanthemums. I lean in to smell the flowers. My eyes drift close, and a smile spreads across my face. Smells just like summer time. I look up at him and whisper, “Thank you. No one’s never given me flowers before.”
He nods and shyly smiles. “I’m happy to be the first one then. You ready?”
“Absolutely.”
He places his hand on the small of my back and leads me to the passenger side. After opening my door, he helps me in. As I smooth out the bottom of my dress before I sit down, I catch his eyes studying me as if it’s the first time he’s ever seen me. “You look stunning.”
I laugh. I don’t mean to, but stunning is not a word that I’m accustomed to hearing come out of Wes’ mouth. “What? Why are you laughing at me?” His eyebrows dip low in confusion.
“Stunning? Really, Wes?” I ask skeptically.
“Does fucking sexy sound better?”
I turn in my seat to face him. My hands reach out and grab the collar of his shirt before I pull him to me. “There’s my man,” I mumble against his lips.
“I was trying to be a gentleman.”
“You are. Just in your own way. Don’t change for me. I like you just the way you are.” I capture his lips with mine one more time. When his hands glide up my thighs and around to my ass, I pull back. “Now, take me out. I’m ready to have some fun,” I whisper with a wink.
Wes squeezes my ass and groans. “And, there’s my woman.”
After we park the truck, Wes helps me out and takes my hand in his while we walk two or three blocks to the main road. He wasn’t kidding when he said most of the town shuts down. Red, blue, and white rope lights hang high above the crowd. They extend from the old historic buildings, like the ones that you see featured in western movies, on one side, across the street to the others, forming a tent-like shape. In the middle of the road, empty tables sit, draped with red and white checkered tablecloths. Droves of people are dressed patriotically, while others are dressed casually. All sorts of people wander about, laughing and talking. Kids run around chasing after each other with water balloons and water guns, screaming, and giggling.
As we venture further into the festivities, I look up at him as I squeeze his hand. “This is amazing.”
“I know. I used to love coming here when I was a kid. My grandparents always brought me.”
Vendors line the sidewalks, their stands decorated to fit the holiday, selling anything from snow cones and cotton candy, hot dogs and Coke, to fireworks. In the middle of the street, beyond the empty tables, sits what looks to be about ten or fifteen tables in a horseshoe shape. People stand behind the tables with crockpots and stockpots. Groups crowd around the tables. I watch, fascinated, as they hold bowls of something, tasting what, I’m not sure. One lone table sits a little ways away with three people occupying it.
“What’s that?” I point toward the large crowd.
Wes looks in the direction that I’m pointing. “It’s our annual chili cook-off.”
As soon as he says the word chili, my mouth waters, and my stomach rumbles loudly. I know he heard it because he starts to laugh. “Come on. They let everyone taste test.” He tugs on my hand, leading me to where my stomach is begging to be.
We have to shove our way through the throngs of people just to get up to the tables. Way more people are over here than I thought. “Reid!” Wes shouts, his hand cupped around his mouth, amplifying his voice.
I see Reid pushing up on his toes. He cranes his neck, looking around for who called his name. He spots us, and with a nod, he waves us over. Shoulders jam into me, jostling me around as Wes leads us through the crowd. My fingers start to slide from his grasp as the mob begins to close in around the contenders of the cook-off. I reach forward and yank on his arm, gaining his attention. He looks back at me and his eyes widen. “A little help here, please?” I ask, somewhat nervous of the large crowd.
“Babe, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize.” He starts to shove people out of his way to get to me. As soon as he reaches me, Wes scoops me up off the ground, one hand behind my back, the other under my knees, right before a large burly man almost plows over me. “Watch the fuck out!” Wes yells at the man.