Still, she worried that it might be “too much.” She’d fussed for what felt like all morning before scolding herself that it really didn’t matter. He was there to talk about the painting, not stare at her. Besides, Hank had seen her at the market and after hours at work, after she’d changed out of her work uniform. He knew what she looked like.
In the end, her practical side—if she even possessed such a thing—hadn’t won out completely. She started with subtle makeup, with matching lipstick, but she went for winged eyeliner, just to make an impact. She knew he liked a little flair.
Then she added a rose to her hair. She wore flat, comfortable shoes, seeing how though they were going to a fair, but she enjoyed the subtle touches of color and fun. She smoothed her dress down again and bit her lip. She was sure he’d be here on time. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to keep a woman waiting—especially not someone who was designing his custom painting.
She hoped she’d read this right, read him right. She really wanted there to be more to this than “business,” but she knew she couldn’t make that happen, no matter how much she wanted it. Hank had to want it, too, and so far, she just wasn’t sure.
She heard a car approaching the sidewalk just as the clock moved to six. Hank was punctual, not a minute too early or too late. She tried to decide if she should move toward him or look like she was busy enjoying the nearby flowers, to where she wasn’t too eager for him to arrive.
But she was sure it had to be him. She felt butterflies overtake her again, lightly brushing their way through her body.
She looked up to see a minivan pull into the parking spot. She frowned, wondering if he drove that kind of car for convenience—it probably would make buying paintings on a whim easier, with all that room in the back—but then another man, short and round, got out and helped a toddler from the backseat. Definitely not him.
She had just a moment to feel disappointed when she felt a touch brush her elbow. “Excuse me, ma’am, but were you looking for a ride to the fair?”
She turned to see Hank standing there, a smile on his face. She wondered where he’d come from even as he gestured down the street. “I guess I didn’t know this area as well as I thought. I parked two streets over.”
“Maybe I should drive to the fair then,” she said with a nudge.
“Nice try. I go to this same fair every year, and they always have it in the same place.”
“I don’t mind. It’s like having a chauffeur.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Well, if that’s all I am, you might as well sit in the back.”
“But you’d miss my company too much.”
He opened the car door for her. “You’ve got me there. After you.”
“Thank you, good sir.”
She slid into the seat of his sleek SUV that did, indeed, have leather seats in the latest styling. It also had a pink flamingo travel mug in one of the cupholders.
Once she was seated next to him, her bag tucked next to her ankles, he started the engine and she had time to examine his appearance. He wore a light linen shirt, sleeves rolled up, with another of his favorite pair of khakis. He’d chosen a small-brimmed straw hat with a light-colored band to go with it, making her wish she’d thought of a hat. It was bound to be sunny, and he looked like he could spend all day at a fair…and still transition to the office if needed by rolling down the sleeves.
Then she found him looking her way, his brown eyes smiling at her from beneath the brim of his hat. “You look lovely, by the way.”
She was caught off guard with how direct he was. She’d expected to have to guess what he thought about her outfit, to detect his feelings by the nature of his looks, the expression in his eyes. But she liked how he told her what he meant and didn’t leave her guessing, how he made it clear she was his focus of the moment, at least, if not the day.
She replied as calmly as she could, trying to keep the moment light. “Not looking too bad yourself. I like the hat.”
He took it off and held it for a moment, as though only now noticing just what he’d worn. “You like it? I think it’s ugly. But I couldn’t resist bringing it just to see what you’d say. I found it in one of my rental houses after a tenant moved out. Figured it would be good for something, even if it’s just a laugh.”
“I would never laugh at you.”
“Thanks. I like your hair. The flower’s a nice touch.”
She drew her hair behind her ear. “Thanks. I picked it this morning. I thought it would be a nice accent.” Her ex wouldn’t have cared at all about something small like that, but Hank did. But Hank isn’t my boyfriend, exactly.
But on a day like today, she certainly wouldn’t mind calling him “hers.” She had to admit that they made a nice couple.
The roar of the engine as it pulled out of the parking lot was nothing more than a smooth purr. The car itself smelled of leather and aftershave, and that, too, reminded her of Hank, though she didn’t remember getting near enough to notice that. Maybe a breeze from the farmers’ market had made her more aware of his scent, despite not standing that close. She wondered what it would feel like to be that close, though…and then quickly reminded herself that they were just friends. Artist and client, even.
He passed a slow-moving vehicle with a lurch, and she was pulled back against the smooth leather seat, just for a moment. She realized she probably should be worried, just a little. She was in a car with a man she barely knew, going to an undisclosed destination, and only Heather knew about the date. She wondered if she knew him well enough for something like this.
She shook her head to clear her thoughts of worry. Heather had said he came by the store fairly often, and he was clearly known by the people at the farmers’ market. Just because she didn’t know much about his personal life didn’t mean he was some kind of artist stalker, eager to kidnap promising artists and take them away to paint masterpieces in captivity.
And something about him made her feel safe, like how he laughed at his own hat and had recognized her need for space. The way he encouraged her. He was kind and gentle, and she knew she was in good hands. He was one of the good guys out there, no matter how others acted, and she’d been lucky to find him. Or maybe lucky he’d found her.
He hadn’t said anything since leaving the park, and she glanced over at him, old worries starting to resurface. Was this the part where she was supposed to say something, proving that she was interesting enough, good enough for someone like him? But he’d been the one to ask her out. Was this a date? Was he hinting at being interested, or was it truly all about the art?
“So, where is this fair?” It sounded pretty lame, but it was the best small talk she could muster. She’d always been better at responding to things than coming up with ideas on her own. Even her art tended to be a reaction to life more than a creation out of nothing.
“Not too far—about a twenty-minute drive.” He glanced over at her more times than she thought was strictly necessary, to where she was almost worried about him watching the road. But maybe she distracted him in a good way? “I have a feeling you’ll like it. Have you been to many fairs?”
She tried to recall the last one. She could remember something about a merry-go-round and cotton candy, which had gotten into her hair somehow. Hanna winning a bubble kit and Cassie getting a stuffed animal and talking about how they should trade. Cassie had always loved bubbles as a kid. They were delicate, like crystalline opals, but airy, light, impossible to keep but reflecting all the light of the sun in their short, whimsical lives. When she got married one day, she wanted her guests to blow bubbles.
Then she realized she hadn’t really answered Hank’s question. “Only one or two, when I was little.”
“I was starting to wonder if you’d heard my question.”
“Sorry. I was just lost in thought.”
“About?”
She almost decided to make up something, but how could the truth, on this subject, hurt? “Bubbles,” she admitted, glad
he didn’t immediately laugh. “They were a prize at the last fair I went to. Better than most of the cheap toys. I tried to paint bubbles once, but they look too heavy on canvas. I think opals are the next closest thing.”
“I can’t argue with that. They do have that glossy look to them. But I thought women were supposed to prefer diamonds—that kind of thing?”
“I mean, they’re nice too. I just look at things a little differently.”
“And not in a bad way.”
She glanced his way to find him looking at her again, and she felt her breath catch in her chest. It was another moment when it felt like this couldn’t possibly just be a meeting—and he couldn’t just see her as an artist.
He glanced back over. “This fair might not have bubbles, but it should be fun all the same. It’s not too sprawling, not like some of the ones closer to the big cities.” He wrinkled his nose, giving her the distinct impression he preferred something smaller than big city life. Just like she did—part of why she’d moved there in the first place. It had the flourishing farmers’ market, combined with small town charm. Big enough to welcome a newcomer, but small enough to enjoy a slower pace.
And the fact that it was a preference they both shared brought a smile to her face.
They drove for a while in comfortable silence. She no longer felt awkward. Not saying anything seemed as natural as the gaps in conversation between a couple of good friends. Then the fair came into view, first as a hint of a Ferris wheel followed by the sound of music and laughter slipping in through the windows, which were open a crack. She couldn’t wait to see more, feeling excited about the event, and not just the company, for the first time since getting in the car.
At last they reached the parking lot. The fair was spread out across an open field, with colorful rides rising behind a panorama of tents, exhibits, and people. She could almost smell the snacks, a buttery taste combining with a sweet, candied atmosphere. He seemed just as excited, and it lit her up like the lights that sparkled from the nearest sign.
“It looks amazing.” She couldn’t even remember the look of the last fair. She remembered the sea of colors and smells, but this one seemed extra special. Less run-down, maybe, and more exuberant. It seemed like a classic fair, which didn’t surprise her—he clearly had good taste, but she’d never have thought of going to a fair. Still, she was glad they were there. She’d always been looking for fun and adventure in her life, but somehow, the idea of a town fair had come across as too mundane, too average. She never would’ve gone if he hadn’t asked her.
But now, with Hank by her side, it seemed like the most exciting thing she could be doing. Faster than another trip to Hawaii and far less expensive, she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. This was going to be a highlight to her year, no matter what else would or wouldn’t happen.
“I knew you’d love it,” he said.
“You can see the future now?” she asked with a straight face. She didn’t want to come across as too easy to please, too quick to be won over. “We’re not even there yet.”
He parked the car and got out. “I have a pretty good feeling, especially if you’re already in awe.”
“Oh, I’m in awe, am I?”
“Maybe I’m reading it wrong. You’re probably still thinking about bubbles,” he added with a smile before starting for the fair’s entrance.
She was surprised, but his teasing didn’t sting. It didn’t hurt or make her question herself like it used to with her ex. His humor was gentle, not abrasive or demeaning. It felt like it did when Hanna or Heather teased her, to where she knew it was coming from a good place.
But how do I know that with him? Sure, she was enjoying every moment of their banter, and she didn’t feel awkward with him, uncomfortable or hesitant, but that didn’t mean she knew him. He could be a perfect gentleman and still not be interested, to where he cared about everyone’s feelings like this. He might just be trying to welcome her into the area and nothing more.
She took in a big, deep breath as she walked into the fair itself. Sure enough, she could smell the popcorn and caramel, the cotton candy and lemonade. But here, at this fair, she could also still smell the grass and trees, the pinch of dust that said “country,” and she liked it. She took a deep breath in and exhaled.
She was reading too much into everything. As an artist, she sometimes tended to focus on things too deeply, or look too far, getting her perspective all wrong. They were artist-and-client, friends, maybe, and she needed to be okay with that…for now.
When they reached the admissions booth, he paid for them both without batting an eyelid. She was relieved that she didn’t have to dip into her non-existent for-fun budget. But he was a gentleman, and this seemed to be his treat. She made a half-hearted gesture toward her own purse, but he held up his hand and shook his head—and she let that be the end of it.
And so the morning went, with him always suggesting she choose the next attraction or ride, always letting her go first. She’d thought she’d be bothered by the constant deference, but he didn’t make a big deal about it. He didn’t imply that she couldn’t—just that he was taking care of it—and it impressed her in a way she hadn’t expected.
And then, the fair itself was great. Not nearly as big as a state fair, she found that a quarter day gave a person plenty of time, to where she didn’t feel rushed with the crowds, the hurry and hustle. It was small enough that a person could actually experience everything, if she wanted, but still big enough to create that sense of excitement, that bubbling impression that something special and exciting was going to happen.
They moved from stall to stall, taking in the things people had for sale, the games that crowded the area, and the towering rides that sometimes loomed overhead. She laughed off offers for most of the rides, claiming they weren’t really her thing. Honestly, she didn’t mind rides, and some of them she jumped to experience, but she didn’t want to have to worry about ruining her dress or showing too much leg. Not ideal, especially on a first date.
Still, they were having a great time. He turned out to be a fantastic shot when tossing coins or rings at those little game booths, and he got into the spirit of the moment, showing off a little. She clapped and cheered, and he smiled that smile that made her wish they could do more things like this together—that “together” was a regular occurrence in their life instead of a “trust to see each other again at some point” kind of thing.
It wasn’t until hours later, after they’d eaten both lunch and an afternoon snack, when the sun was just starting to set, that they reached the drop tower and he finally decided to dig his heels in.
“We need to go on this.” He gestured to the tall tower above them, a ring of seats around it with enormous holsters that gripped people in place. It looked like a roller coaster grip, but it only took up a small space…and most people riding it were screaming.
Her eyes widened as she looked up. “I thought we said no rides?”
“Well, it’s technically not a ride. Rides take you somewhere, right?”
“I thought you’d be more of a Ferris wheel kind of guy,” she said, trying to decide whether she could handle the drop tower or not. She’d be sitting down, and from what she could see of the apparatus, there was no way for her skirt to fly up that far. She might expose her knees, but that looked to be about it.
He smirked. “Ferris wheel?”
“Sure. It’s a classic, and…I take you for a classic kind of guy.”
He chuckled. “I’m not even sure what that means, but aren’t you forgetting my love for a little zest?”
She glanced up again. “I think that thing’s more than a little zest.”
“You aren’t afraid of heights, are you?”
“No. A little. Or maybe I just like staying alive.”
“I’ll bet the view up there is amazing. Come on.” He held his hand out toward her, and any thought of saying no melted away.
But still, she wasn’t sure. Wasn’t this what
a good artist was supposed to do with clients, saying something about them needing to talk business, about how they still hadn’t really gotten anywhere with it? She’d left her bag with the concept sketch in the car and hadn’t been back there since they had arrived that morning.
She knew it would be the responsible thing. The successful artist thing. But there was a look in his eyes that said he wanted this, and not just because of the view. He wanted her to trust him, to share a moment.
She moved a step closer and took his hand. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
The night air had started to develop a chill and she shivered a little as they walked up. The ride-that-wasn’t-a-ride was lit up, and it looked inviting and bright…and pretty terrifying if she was honest. What would Hanna and Heather say?
It was high, but Cassie wasn’t usually one to shy away from adventure. This was the kind of ride the old Cassie would’ve picked. But still, she was nervous, and she thought it had to do with Hank, with being up there, away from all the business and distractions. Maybe she was scared about whatever she’d feel up there, just before the drop.
Everything about their date-that-might-be-a-business-meeting had been magical. It had been a day when success didn’t matter, her unpaid bill with the movers didn’t matter. The fact that, tomorrow, she’d go back to work at a simple grocery store and try to figure out how many shifts she could take without collapsing. This ride might be the last one, and she wasn’t ready for that—but she knew she didn’t have a choice.
Eventually, this was how life was. Things worked up to a big moment, a literal high, and then everything dropped away. You went back to normal, and whatever was left was what you got to keep.
They followed the operator’s instructions and got into the seats assigned. The giant metal harness came down, after they fastened their seatbelts, and Hank gave her a reassuring smile—at least, that was how she took it. Honestly, he looked so excited, she wasn’t sure he even considered the idea that she might be dreading this. Maybe this was just how he lived, where one high led to another, and the next low didn’t scare him because he knew another high would come. I wish I could be that confident…again, she thought as the ride slowly rose higher and higher.
Color My World Page 6
