Serenity Falls(74)

“He’s been competing since he was ten?” I’m intrigued as we continue down the center of the street.

He nodded. “Yeah, it’s a thing him and his dad did together. But now, his dad’s retired and has handed down the ladle and the stock pot to his son.”

Just then, I hear the gravely, husky sounds of Gary Allan’s Man of Me, and crane my neck, looking around for the source. Noticing what has captured my attention, Wes gently tugs on my hand, making me look at him. “Wanna dance?”

With a grin, I jerk my head in a nod. He pulls me toward a roped off area where a band is set up, obviously singing cover songs because the lead singer definitely isn’t Gary Allan. But damn, did he sound close enough. The ropes connect to large wooden pillars placed around the band and makeshift dance floor. Lanterns hang, suspended from wires that stretch from one wooden pillar to the next, above people dancing. Wes leads me out onto the dance floor. Underneath the soft glow, he wraps his arms around my waist. I wrap my arms around his neck just as the singer announces the next song, It Goes Like This by Thomas Rhett. With the snap of the drum, and the strum of the guitar, I pull Wes as close as possible, laying my head against his chest. I’ve never felt more relaxed as I do at this moment with his arms holding me close, him singing softly in my ear, and us swaying to the music. When the lead singer belts out the lyrics about being all messed up and sounding crazy, I lift my head off his chest and reach up, softly stroking his cheek. I gaze into his stunning, cobalt blue eyes as his lips pull into a smile. I love him. Leaning down, a hairsbreadth from my lips, he whispers “Come with me?”

I lean in, closing the minute distance left between us, my lips meeting his. After a long, slow, tantalizing kiss, he pulls back and I answer, “Let’s go.”

As Wes leads me off the floor, he takes my hand in his. On the way back to the truck, a group of kids stands next to a fireworks stand playing with their sparklers. I watch in fascination as they spin the shimmering sticks. Designs of all sorts light up the nighttime. “You want to get some?” Wes asks from beside me as he notices what has caught my attention.

“Hell, yeah! Who doesn’t love sparklers?” I reply excitedly. When we reach the stand, I release Wes’ hand and walk over to the group of kids.

A little boy with short brown hair, brown eyes, and rosy red cheeks smiles at my approach. He shows off the cutest set of dimples I’ve ever seen as he smiles and waves me over. When I get closer to him and the others, he says, “Hi. You’re really pretty.”

I chuckle at that. Kids always speak the truth.

“Hello. Thank you. And you’re really handsome.” I kneel down to match the boy’s height.

“I’m Adam.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Adam. I’m Kenleigh.”

“Do you like sparklers?” He spins his so that its light makes a circular shape.

“I love sparklers.”

He looks at me with his eyebrows dipped, and his nose scrunched, and I can’t help but smile at his cute little face. “But you’re a grown up.”

“You’re right, I am, but you can never be grown up enough not to play with sparklers.”

“Never grown up enough?” he asks, mystified.

“Never.” I shake my head.

“You wanna try?” He offers his sparkler to me.

“Sure. Thanks.” I reach out and take the metal stick that’s still on fire. I wave it back and forth, creating the illusion of ribbons floating in the air. Next, I write Adam’s name in one swift motion, joining the letters.

“Wow! That was so cool,” he squeals with a look of awe on his face.

“It was.” I look over my shoulder to see Wes standing there with a smile on his face. In one hand, he holds a bundle of sparklers, and in the other, he has a snow cone. Still knelt down, I turn my attention back to Adam. “Here you go.” I hand him back his barely lit sparkler. “I have to go, but don’t forget that you’re never too grown up to play with sparklers, okay?”

I stand up, turn around, and walk over to Wes. “Is that for me?” I look at the snow cone.

He nods. “It is, but you have to kiss me first.”

I scrunch up my face and shake my head. “In that case, I don’t know if I want it.”

“Oh, you want it.” He drops his voice an octave as I stop right in front of him.

“And how do you know that?” I ask quietly, peeking up at him through my eyelashes.

“Because it tastes delicious.” He grins a smug, cocky grin.

I take it out of his hand and wrap my lips around a portion of the cold, crushed, colored ice, tasting a hint of watermelon. The veins in his neck bulge a little, and as I watch, his back straightens. On the inside, I do a little victory dance, knowing that I have some kind of effect on him. “Mmmm… You’re right. It is delicious,” I say huskily. “Would you like a taste?”