I was twirling back and forth in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom, making sure I looked good from every angle, when the doorbell rang. Before I could rush downstairs to head off my parents, I heard heavy footsteps in the foyer. A moment later there came the squeaky hinges of the front door and the familiar tenor of my father's voice as it carried up the stairs. I took a deep breath and held it, hovering in the hallway a floor above while listening.

"You must be John." My dad had adopted his accountant's voice, firm and business-like.

"I am." John's voice was just as sure and steady.

"It's nice to finally put a face to the name. Come in. Blake's upstairs getting ready. Honey?" my dad called, voice raised. "John's here!"

"I'll be down in a minute!"

I raced to my closet and wiggled my feet into my red sandals, pulling the straps in place around my heels. Then I grabbed a matching red cardigan, the one with the shimmery sequins on the front, just in case it got chilly once the sun set. Checking my makeup in the mirror one last time, I raced to the end of the hallway and skipped down the stairs to meet John.

"Hey," I said, feeling giddy and breathless all at once.

John's eyes seemed to light up as his mouth dropped open when he saw me. I took his reaction as a good sign. "Ready?" he asked.

I grabbed my purse. "Ready."

"Just make sure to eat the funnel cake after you've ridden anything that spins or revolves," my dad advised. He turned to John, nudging him in the side, and said in a stage-whisper, "Blake is extremely susceptible to motion sickness. The last time she—"

"Dad!" I exclaimed, interrupting a story I had experienced firsthand and knew had an unpleasant outcome. I cast a stricken glance at John before giving my father a look that I hoped conveyed he should keep quiet. "Where's Mom so I can tell her goodbye?"

He thumbed over his shoulder, a look of innocence on his face. "Out by the pool, working. I've got to get back to the office myself. I'll probably be there until late tonight, so I might not see you before tomorrow." He held out his hand to John. "You two have a great time. Come over again soon."

"Thanks, Mr. Ehlert."

We found my mom sitting at the table under the shade of the oversized umbrella, surrounded by organized stacks of papers. She rarely took an actual break from work, but that's how she'd earned the reputation of being the most accomplished real estate agent in a tri-county area.

"We're leaving now!" I called out to her, hoping we could just wave and skip the small talk. I was half afraid she might also try to regale John with some embarrassing story from my past.

She looked up. "Oh! How are you, John? It's nice to see you again."

"I'm very well. Thank you. It's nice to see you again, too."

"You remember we're going to the fair, right?" I said.

"Of course," my mother answered. "Have fun. Be safe and mind your curfew."

"About that," I said, shifting from one foot to the other. "Do you think I can have an extended curfew, just this once?"

She peered at me over the rim of her reading glasses. "Blake, if I extend your curfew tonight—just this once—you'll end up asking me to do it again some other night. It sets a bad precedent."

"C'mon, Mom. I've never missed curfew before."

"You should have left for the fair earlier," my mother replied. "You would have had more time."

"That was my fault," John said. "I got called into work unexpectedly for a few hours."

"Please, Mom?"

"I promise to have her home at a reasonable hour."

Mom's teeth sank into her lower lip as she contemplated our dilemma, but I could tell she was on the verge of caving. John was hard to resist.

"It takes an hour just to get there," John said. "Once you factor in the drive and trying to find parking, we'll be spending nearly three hours in the car, roundtrip, just sitting there."

"Just sitting there," I echoed. "Not having any fun."

She gave me a look. "Blake—"

"Just until midnight," I said. "That's only two hours later than usual. Please?"

"Come on, Mrs. Kinsley-Ehlert," John said with a disarming smile. "All you have to do is say yes."

"Fine," she said, throwing her hands up in defeat. "Yes."

"Thank you!" I cried, wrapping my arms around her in a tight hug.

"I promise to take good care of your daughter," John said.

My mother picked up a stack of papers and tapped the bottom edge on the table. She raised her brows. "I like you, John, but that's precisely what I'm afraid of."

**********

The fair was hot and loud, and absolutely wonderful. Music drifted from the bandstand, drum beats and guitar riffs growing louder and fading again on the wind. The clank, rattle, and asthmatic wheeze of carnival rides echoed around us, punctuated by the squealing laughter of children as they pointed and dragged their hot and exhausted parents behind them from one attraction to the next.

The air hung heavy with the mouthwatering aromas of piping hot corn dogs, salted popcorn, and deep-fried food-on-a-stick. There was the sweet scent of funnel cakes frying in hot, bubbling oil, and cotton candy swirled on cardboard cones. All of that overlaying the pungent reek of sweaty armpits and stinky feet. My cheeks ached from smiling.

"I can't believe Ian didn't want to come with us," I said as we walked.

John gave me a look. "This is supposed to be a date, remember?"

"I know, but I feel sorry for him. He's probably sitting at your place, all by himself."

"Don't worry about him. He'll be fine." John grabbed my hand, linking his fingers with mine. "Where to first?"

"I'll take that funnel cake," I said. "And then maybe we can see what bands are playing."

Squeezing my hand, John bent to kiss me, his lips tasting faintly salty and making my entire mouth tingle. "Your wish is my command," he said.

We stood in line for the funnel cakes, my back pressed against his chest and his arms wrapped snugly around my middle. The day was warm, but not humid, and I could feel John's dry heat radiating off his body through his faded jeans and t-shirt. He'd tucked a baseball cap in his back pocket, and he removed it, squeezing the brim until he was satisfied with the shape, before fitting it on his head.

A group of younger girls wearing entirely too much makeup was staring at him and whispering to each other, twirling their hair and practically batting their eyelashes while not-so-subtly trying to get his attention. One of the girls narrowed her eyes at me. I stared back, raising my brow. Challenge accepted.

"Those girls over there think you're cute," I said, craning my head to whisper in his ear.

His eyes cut to them, but the expression on his face remained impassive. He turned me around then and bent his face to mine, giving me a kiss that left me struggling for air. There was a collective huff of indignation, and the group stalked away.

The brim of John's baseball cap brushed my forehead, reminding me of the guys watching the game at The Marauder's Cove the night before. And thinking of The Marauder's Cove brought someone else to mind.

"Last night when I was leaving the bar, that guy Josiah was outside."

"Oh, yeah?"

"He knew my name."

John's arms tightened around me briefly before relaxing again. "I couldn't keep to myself how insanely beautiful and amazing you are."

I punched him lightly in his ribcage, making him double-over in feigned hurt. "You're full of it."

He held up three fingers of his right hand. "Scout's honor. You're the best."

"You're just saying that."

"It's the truth."

I could feel my cheeks blushing. "That's very sweet, John. I like that you talk about me to your friends."

After eating an entire funnel cake, of which John declined even one bite, we made our way to the bandstand. We found seats down in front and clapped with the rest of the audience to a group of adorable little girls dressed in short, poufy dresses, and boys in red, white, and blue suits, all of them tap-dancing as fast as their legs and feet would move to some country song I had never heard. After they took their bow, a woman with flowing hair came on stage. She played the mandolin and sang a song that made me think of woodland faeries and unicorns. But it was the main act—with their trio of guitar, violin, and banjo players—strumming their bluegrass funk that got the crowd on its feet.

During one of the band's slower songs, John took my hand and pulled me close. We swayed in time to the music, my head on his shoulder and his arms around my waist.

"I could stay like this forever," I said.

"Really?" John said against my hair.

"Yes."

We stayed that way until they played the last song in the set and another band took the stage.

"How about a spin on the Ferris wheel?" John suggested as we left the grandstand for the midway. "I promise not to rock."

Dusk had begun to settle, and the lights on the rides were starting to twinkle on. A sort of magic permeated the air, like everything existed in a state of suspended reality. It was one of those moments in which anything is possible. I craned my neck to take in the view of the Ferris wheel revolving at a leisurely pace, its patriotic lights shimmering in the growing darkness. We boarded the ride, slowly climbing higher as the attendant let other passengers on until finally, we were at the very top overlooking the world. The sounds of the fair seemed muted, somehow far away. We were alone, just the two of us.

"I used to be scared to go on the Ferris wheel," I said. The wind lifted my hair and I brushed it out of my face.

"Everyone is afraid of something," John said.

"Being this high . . . I don't know. It makes me feel vulnerable and out of control."

John put his arm around me. "I won't let anything happen to you, Blake."

I laughed. "My personal knight in shining armor?"

"Something like that."

After another few hours of rides, games, and entirely too much carnival food, it was time to put the night to rest. As we were walking hand-in-hand to the parking lot, we heard a shout in the distance.

"Blake! Hold up!"

I recognized his voice at once, and every muscle in my body tensed. I turned, hoping the expression on my face didn't reveal just how much I didn't want to see him.

"Zach. What are you doing here?" Gabe was with him, and I didn't miss the way he sized up John before his eyes flicked to me.

"Same as you," he said.

"Did you . . . you didn't follow us here, did you?"

Gabe snorted. "Don't flatter yourself."

"It's a big place," I said. "With lots of people."

"Your point?"

"My point is, what are the chances of us just bumping into each other?"

"It's called coincidence, or haven't you heard of it?" Gabe said.

John stepped in front of me. "Look, we don't want any trouble."

"I guess you should have thought of that before you decided to steal his girlfriend," Gabe said, lifting his chin in Zach's direction as if we didn't know who he was talking about.

"He didn't steal me," I said, bristling with anger and annoyance. "I'm the one who broke up with Zach, remember?"

Zach, I noticed, remained quiet. "What do you have to say for yourself, Zach?" I demanded. "Did you follow us here?" My mother probably mentioned to Zach's mom that I would be here tonight. I'd have to have a word with her about telling Helen my personal business.

Zach's eyes cut nervously to John. "Come on," he said to Gabe. "Let's go. I didn't want to come here in the first place. I told you it was a bad idea."

That was all the confirmation I needed. My temper flared as I rounded on Zach. "I expect this sort of behavior from Gabe, but not from you. You're better than this."

"You're the one to talk," Gabe said.

John opened his mouth to say something, but I put my hand on his arm. I wasn't finished yet. "Since when do you let Gabe speak for you?"

Zach tugged on Gabe's arm, ignoring me. "Seriously, man. C'mon. She's not worth it."

"Damn straight she's not worth it," Gabe said. He hawked a loogie at my feet. It barely missed, and I jumped back with revulsion.

"You jerk!"

They turned away and I assumed that was the end of it, but as John opened the car door for me, Gabe rounded on us and kicked it shut with his foot. My hand narrowly missed getting crushed.

"Are you insane?" I screamed at him. "What's your problem?"

"Knock it off," Zach warned Gabe. "You could have hurt her."

Gabe's eyes blazed as he confronted Zach. "Maybe you're okay with getting your balls handed to you, but I'm not."

"What are you going to do, Gabe?" I challenged. "Pick a fight in the middle of the parking lot? Look around. There are families here. Lots of little kids. I know it's tough for you, but try using your brain for once in your life."

My heart hammered in my chest, despite my words. Gabe was a big guy. If it came down to a fight between them and us, my bets were on them. John might be able to handle Zach on his own, but I didn't think he was any match for the two of them together, and I wasn't about to get in the middle.

"I'm taking Blake home now," John said. "Her parents are expecting her. In fact," he added, turning to me, "call your mother and tell her we're on our way."

Without hesitating, I dug my cell phone out of my purse, fingers trembling, and dialed home. "We're on our way," I said when my mother answered.

"Tell her who we ran into," John said, his eyes fixed on Gabe.

"We ran into Zach and Gabe," I said. Gabe's eyes flicked to mine, narrowing with suspicion.

"A big one," I said, answering my mother's exclamation of what a coincidence that was. "Gabe, as usual, is being an ass. You know how he is."

After a quick warning from my mother not to let 'those boys' do anything stupid, I hung up the phone and glared at Gabe. "Lay a finger on either one of us and I'll go straight to the police and file a report. My mom will back me up that you were here harassing us."

For the first time, Gabe looked scared. "Jesus, Blake. Chill out. I was only playing around." Then he shrugged and slapped Zach on the back, and they disappeared into the night without a backward glance.

I finally released the breath I'd been holding, my legs nearly giving way as I slid into the passenger seat of the car. "I went a little overboard with the whole police thing, didn't I?"

John bent down to peer in at me, his face a mask of concern. "Something tells me you can't be too careful with that guy."

"Do you think we should be worried about them?"

John glanced over his shoulder and then back at me. "Not with me around."

*****

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