Carnival Ride: A Sweet Romance (Red Canyon Series Book 2)

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Carnival Ride: A Sweet Romance (Red Canyon Series Book 2) Page 2

by Laura Westbrook


  “This is good stuff,” Sophie said.

  “We might have to come back for more later.”

  “What? You’re the one who didn’t want any in the first place. I had to talk you into it.”

  Chelsea shrugged. “What can I say? It’s growing on me.” She popped another piece in her mouth.

  They passed a family of four, and a little girl looked up at Chelsea’s cotton candy. She shot a look to her mother with her bottom lip stuck out. She glanced between the cotton candy and her mother a few times and eventually gave up when she didn’t notice. Chelsea was tempted to tear off a piece for her, but she didn’t want to be rude to the parents. She wouldn’t take it well if a stranger randomly gave out candy to her child…if she had one, anyway. One day.

  One of the cars in the Ferris wheel whooshed by overhead. Half the time, they went by at a snail’s pace, but this one rotated at a clipped speed, almost a rollercoaster in its own right. Well, not nearly that fast, but enough to make it more interesting.

  She’d heard about a giant one in London with pods so big they sometimes held wedding ceremonies in them. They probably couldn’t fit all that many people in a pod, but enough. If she ever got married, her mother would kill her if she didn’t invite literally the entire family, including those who thought they were family. No pod for her.

  “Oh, look.”

  Chelsea followed Sophie’s line of sight until she noticed a stand-alone building with thick letters painted all along the walls. Mirrors dotted the side and front of the building, some so large that it confused the eye which was the door. The only way to tell was the tiny door knob sticking out of one of the full-length mirrors.

  “Do you think it’s one of those funhouse mirror-type things?” Sophie asked.

  Chelsea stuck her hand in her pocket and rifled through her tickets. Everything cost tickets, and the carnival made sure there were plenty of booths set up to sell them throughout the property. “Probably. Let’s try it.”

  A woman stood at the entrance holding a bucket. The way she swung it made her look like she meant business. Her long, wispy hair kept changing directions in the breeze. “Three tickets.”

  Instead of holding out her hand, she simply held out the bucket. Chelsea and Sophie dropped their tickets in, and the woman grinned. She seemed hardy, especially considering she didn’t have a chair or any shade at all. Chelsea had no idea how long the shifts were, but whatever length of time it was, it felt longer in the desert. It may be evening time, but she would’ve guessed the woman had been there a while.

  Just before they went inside, Chelsea glanced back to see the woman holding out her bucket for the people behind them, a group of teenagers having entirely too much fun. They jostled and laughed as they pushed each other. It didn’t phase the woman one bit.

  Chelsea grasped the handle and turned. It felt cool in her hand, matching the air inside despite it being a warm night. A corridor stretched in front of them that was so dark, she had to shuffle forward with her feet to keep from tripping. The drop ceiling hovered precariously close to her head, further trapping in the darkness.

  “This is supposed to be a mirror thing and not a haunted house, right?” Sophie asked.

  “I hope so,” Chelsea said.

  For a moment, she waited to see if the door would open, which would light up everything, but nothing came. Perhaps the woman with the bucket staggered visitors for a certain effect. If that was the case, she indeed felt it. When Chelsea touched the walls, she noticed something soft, like a velvet curtain draped over them.

  Once they reached the far side of the corridor, the light became brighter, and she realized it was a ninety-degree angle turn. When she took it, she saw them. Row after row of pristine, glowing mirrors. Lights both at the top and bottom of each mirror bounced off every reflective surface, easily brightening up the entire room and everything inside it. There were no individually bright lights—simply the teamwork of countless small ones.

  “Wow,” Sophie breathed. “This is pretty neat. Check me out.” She stood in front of the first mirror she came to, and the reflection suddenly turned her four feet tall.

  “Look at you!” Chelsea said. “You can’t reach the top shelf anymore.” She walked in front of the next one and her waist shrunk to cartoon proportions. “This is what I came here for. Now I can eat all the cotton candy I want.”

  “No kidding, especially if you look like that by the end of the day.”

  “All I have to do is set one of these up in my bedroom…and everywhere I go.”

  Sophie moved to a different mirror, one that stretched her midsection out wide. “This one is terrible. It needs to be destroyed immediately. I’ll notify the management.”

  “You’ll do no such thing. Just come back in front of mine, and it’ll all be fixed.”

  Sophie tilted her head forward. “Oh it’s your mirror now, is it? I don’t see your name on it.”

  They kept moving down the line until they ran out of silly effects. Then they turned normal, but dozens of rows of them. They seemed to go on indefinitely.

  Chelsea stopped in her tracks and looked around. “Okay, very funny. Where are you?”

  “I’m over here,” said a voice a few steps away.

  “Where?” Chelsea snapped her head around the corner of yet more mirrors and didn’t see anything.

  “I took one right and two lefts,” Sophie said. “Something like that. Or was it two rights and straight and a left? Either way, just follow my voice and you’ll find me.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to work very well,” Chelsea muttered.

  “What’s that?”

  “I said I’m coming to you.”

  “Okay, I’m here.”

  Chelsea made a series of decisions, turning down wrong turns multiple times. Usually the problem was that when she took a turn that looked like it went on for a while, it turned out to be an immediate dead-end as soon as she saw her reflection. It wasn’t so much that she didn’t know where to go—more that she didn’t know which way lasted longer than three steps.

  Laughter came behind her, and she realized the teenagers had entered. It wasn’t fair. They had strength in numbers and could try multiple alleyways at once. She once found herself back at the front door, but she refused to admit defeat by going out that way, so she soldiered on, not once seeing Sophie.

  For a few moments, she allowed herself to slip into wondering if Sophie was now permanently lost to the world, fated to forever wander the mirror house like some sort of minotaur pacing its never-ending labyrinth. She’d be a good friend and send out search parties.

  Finally, Chelsea discovered the back door. It looked rather plain compared to the rest of the building. It had one of those push beams across it, so that, technically, all someone had to do was bump up against it hard and it would open.

  The sunlight burst through her eyelids. She squeezed them shut as hard as she could until opening them wasn’t as painful. She looked around her. She was literally behind the building with nothing to see but a worn path through the grass that wound back around to the main walkway. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to feel a sense of accomplishment for getting out. There were no participation awards for this.

  The woman with the bucket was still there. She hadn’t moved an inch. She was like a statue, forever entrenched in that one spot.

  “Have you seen my friend?” Chelsea asked. “She’s the one I went in with. Long hair and a little taller than me?”

  Several strands of white hair flew in front of the woman’s face, and she paused a moment to curl them behind her ear. “I haven’t seen her since she went in with you. You two didn’t stay together in there?”

  “No, we got separated. Your company builds a convincing house of mirrors. It was hard for me…us to find our way out. How long did it take to make something like this?”

  “It’s a secret,” the woman said. “It runs in the family, so we have a knack for it.”

  “I s
ee. I’m going to wait around the back so I don’t miss her. If she comes out the front, can you tell her I’m here?”

  “If I see her, I’ll tell her.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  The grass along the worn path tickled her ankles as she found the back door again. She stepped aside when the group of teenagers passed her, all accounted for. How could they all make it through and not Sophie? Did they just get lucky?

  With a huff, she lowered herself onto a large rock which looked rather random with nothing else like it nearby. She shifted until she found a spot that didn’t jab into her backside and stared out across the green.

  Most things were along the main path, not back in this area. A few structures looked like more of those food carts, but some had a bit more permanence to them. One was a booth that stood back just a little from the main walkway—with a short curtain skirt along the top and a knee-high shelf along the front.

  She normally wouldn’t have been able to see inside the booth, but it was placed at an odd angle, not facing out toward the main path but off to the side. There was a short walkway leading up to it, but it didn’t collect as much foot traffic. There was a man inside, leaning against one of the inside walls.

  Even from that distance, she could tell he had dark, short, cropped hair. He hadn’t shaved in perhaps a day or two, casting a shadow across his jaw line. The way he rested made him look casual, but he also looked like he could spring into action at any time. Perhaps he was a man who was used to waiting.

  She couldn’t figure out what the booth was. She saw something in the back, deeper inside, but she couldn’t tell from there. Giving another glance at the back door, she stood up and walked toward the booth. Sophie could find her way, and besides, the moment she exited the door, she should be able to see Chelsea. She was still waiting for her. Kind of.

  As she walked up, the man pushed off the wall. “Let’s see how good you are,” he said in a deep voice.

  Chapter Three

  “Pardon?” Chelsea asked.

  “At throwing. Let’s see how good you are. Only three tickets for three balls. Five tickets for seven.”

  Chelsea scoped out the situation. On three different stands were stacks of wooden bottles. They looked to be roughly the same shape and size as bowling pins, except these ones had a flat top so they could stack.

  “So how does this work?” Chelsea asked. It was a stupid question, but maybe she wanted him to tell her. The way he moved and smiled captured her attention.

  “It’s pretty simple, really. You throw the ball and knock over the pins. If you throw them hard enough, you knock them off. If you knock off all the pins on one of the platforms, you win a prize.”

  “What’s the prize?”

  He spread his hands. “Whatever you’d like.” Something inside her hoped he’d leave it at that, but instead he continued. “You get any of these prizes lining the edges, and if you knock over all three platforms, you can have one along the back.”

  Chelsea was so distracted by him that she hadn’t noticed all the hanging prizes. Along the outer rim were an assortment of stuffed animals and knickknacks. Most of the ones along the edges were fairly small, but the items along the back only got larger, the largest being a giant, stuffed panda. Some of the bears looked cute, but pandas were her favorite animal. Sophie could’ve told him that, if she were there. Chelsea glanced behind her. She couldn’t forget about Sophie. Even if she was a minotaur now.

  “See anything you like?” he asked.

  Um, yes. Is he flirting with me? I should know this, but Sophie always says I’m oblivious to it. I really should get better. “I like the giant panda in the back. Pandas are my favorite.”

  “Well then, that’s the one to shoot for. I’m rooting for you. Would you like to give it a go?”

  She pulled out three tickets. “Sure, I’ll try it out. How hard could it be?”

  “You sound like a winner already.”

  His fingers brushed against hers as he collected her tickets. His hands were large, and she couldn’t help comparing them to hers when they were next to each other. When he came closer, she caught a whiff of his cologne, reminding her of the way the ground smelled after it rained. She found herself a little sad when he stepped back.

  Three balls materialized in her hands, and she felt a surge of confidence. She felt the pressure to perform, especially in front of this rather hunky guy. He’d probably seen hundreds, or even thousands, of people do this, so in theory, it really shouldn’t matter. Although, somehow, it did.

  They reminded her of baseballs, only without the seams running along the middle. They felt small in her hand—of course small compared to, say, a softball, like what she’d thrown as a teenager. She’d never been a pitcher, but passing the ball around the bases was something she was familiar with.

  The pins weren’t far away—maybe fifteen feet or so. She should be able to handle this fine. She’d had onlookers before, mostly the players’ family members in the bleachers, in varying levels of intoxication, but never like this. Not quite like him.

  “Are you ready?” he asked, and she realized she still stood there on the verge of throwing it.

  Stop thinking so hard. Just do it. She set down two and wound back her arm with the third. When it snapped forward, she watched as the top two pins popped off the pyramid stack, bouncing off the backboard. She blinked. That was easy. I’ve heard those things are really hard to move.

  The second ball hit one of the bottom pins, eliminating three altogether that round, leaving only two left. She brushed her hands together like it was no big deal.

  “Natural talent,” he said. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

  “Honestly, I haven’t. First time. Promise.”

  “I believe you.” The way he moved made the shirt he wore stretch across his chest in a way that made her glance away and then back. She was glad she had something in her hands to stop them from fidgeting.

  “One more ball left,” he said. “You could always buy another set, but I don’t think you’ll need it. You got this.”

  The moment the third ball left her fingers, she knew it was a good one. It hit one of the remaining two pins, which swung around and took the other pin with it. They all toppled to the ground, leaving the pedestal completely empty.

  He cupped his hands around his mouth toward the crowd walking by. “What an arm on this one! You win a prize.”

  “Thanks.” She felt more accomplished than when she’d first made a Long Island iced tea without using the measuring cups.

  “Which one do you want?” he asked. “Or do you want to keep going to get the panda?”

  Chelsea felt a hand on her shoulder, and she whirled around to see Sophie there. Sophie’s chest rose and fell as if she’d walked up a long flight of stairs.

  “There you are,” Sophie said. “When I came out the back, I couldn’t find you. Where did you go?”

  Chelsea laughed. “Where did I go? I was wondering the same thing about you. When I came out, I couldn’t find you either. You were still inside. I waited there.” Not all that long, but I did.

  “That place was harder to get through than I thought. I must’ve turned the wrong way three dozen times. I felt pretty stupid when those teenagers passed me.”

  “Yeah, I saw them while I waited,” Chelsea said. While I waited until I saw the cute guy at the booth.

  “Sooo, who’s your friend?” Sophie asked.

  Chelsea turned behind her. “This is…”

  “Nate.” He held out his hand. “Nice to meet you.” He shook Sophie’s. “But it’s even nicer to meet you. What’s your name?”

  “Chelsea.” His hand enveloped hers. The grip was strong, yet gentle. There was the slight rub of calluses on them—not overly so, but enough to signal that he liked to work with his hands. “Likewise.”

  “That’s a beautiful name.” He made it clear who he meant.

  His hand stayed with Chelsea’s longer than
was strictly necessary, but she certainly didn’t mind. She squashed that thought. They had just met. He was a stranger. Why was she thinking about him that way? Get a grip, Chelsea.

  “Chelsea was just about to choose her prize,” he continued. “She’s our big winner today.”

  “Oh really?” Sophie said. “Go you. I didn’t see you as the type for this.”

  “Well, believe it now,” Chelsea said. “I’m pretty good. Is there a pro circuit?”

  “Trust me, if there was one, I’d know about it,” Nate said. “She was just about to pick out her prize.”

  Sophie stepped forward. “It’s a good thing I’m here. I’m great at helping people make decisions. What do you get to choose from?”

  He pointed. “If you knock off all the pins from one pedestal, you can pick anything along the outer rim. If you knock all the pins off all three pedestals in one go, you get something from the back row.”

  “Did you just get the one pedestal?” Sophie asked.

  Chelsea glanced at the other two with their pins still on them. “Just the one. I kind of like the stuffed hippo.”

  “What about the giraffe?” Sophie asked. The stuffed giraffe had a neck about twice the length it should have. It was pretty cute.

  “The hippo one is popular,” he said.

  “Sure, I’ll go with that one.” The choice made more sense considering it was her second favorite animal. She’d even picked it for her subject of choice for a book report in grade school. But it sounded even better when Nate suggested it.

  “A stuffed animal for the pretty lady.” He pulled out a long rod almost out of thin air and pulled down the item from the upper edge of the booth’s rim.

  “I want to give it a try,” Sophie said. “How hard could it be? How many tickets is it?”

  “Three tickets for three balls. Five for seven.”

  “Okay, sure.” Sophie pulled out three tickets and handed them over. When she received her balls, she nudged Chelsea out of the way and centered herself. For a moment, Chelsea wondered if Sophie planned on throwing underhand rather than over.

 

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