Flirting with Fireworks

“Okay, Cherry.” The pleasure the small intimacy gave him was probably not a good thing. “You’re causing an uproar in my town.”

She smiled and pointed a fry at him. “You have the power to change that.”

“You’re playing with fire. These people have been hurt. There’s no telling how they’re going to react to your shenanigans.”

“What’s wrong, Mayor—”

“Jason.” He interrupted. “Call me Jason.”

“Jason.” She inclined her head in acknowledgement. “What’s wrong? Are you afraid I’m going to prove myself?”

“I’m afraid you’re going to get hurt.” The truth in his statement surprised him. When exactly had he moved over to her side? No, that wasn’t right. He wasn’t taking sides. He was keeping the peace.

“What happens when you don’t win the baby pool? You’re going to be seen as a fool. Worse, people are going to be reminded of the Swindle and they’re going to take their anger out on you.”

“That’s not a problem. I’m going to win the baby pool.”

He thought of his wedding ring, found under the nightstand on the right of his bed just as she’d said. Maybe she could win the pool. “Winning may be worse for you than losing. Then it’ll be another fortune-teller taking their money again. You can’t win.”

A teenager with an unfortunate case of acne brought over Jason’s burger. The boy scooped up Jason’s five.

“Keep the change, Johnny.”

The boy grinned and snapped the five taut. “Thanks, Mayor.”

Cherry waited until the boy left them alone before claiming, “I know what I’m doing.”

“Are you sure? Have you ever dealt with a mob? It’s not pretty.”

Totally calm, she responded, “That won’t happen.”

“You don’t know that.” He bit into his burger.

She simply gazed at him from those fabulous, knowing eyes. He gritted his teeth in frustration. He didn’t have to be psychic to know he wasn’t getting through to her.

“Where’s your grandmother? She usually travels with you doesn’t she?”

Surprise followed by wariness flashed across her fine-boned features. “She does, yes.”

He waited, but she didn’t elaborate. “Will she be joining you soon?”

“No.”

Again, nothing followed. “You know for a woman who makes her living talking with people, you aren’t very forthcoming.”

She leaned forward, her forearms bracketing the cooling plate of fries, her eyes intent. “Do you want your fortune told, Jason?”

Did she think to intimidate him? He leaned toward her, his arms framing hers. “Is that the only way you allow someone to get close? By reading them?”

She held her position, though he saw it cost her. “I don’t get close to those I read. It gets in the way of my sight.”

“So who do you get close to?” Now why did he ask that? Hadn’t he just lectured himself on the need for objectivity around this stunning gypsy? “You don’t have to answer that.”

She shrugged one nearly bare shoulder, then casually retreated back into her seat. “My friends are the carnies we travel with.”

It couldn’t be more clear where her loyalties lay. “So it’s all an act when you’re making nice and getting buddy-buddy with the townspeople? Just a means to the end? It all comes down to the money, doesn’t it? And you wonder why I don’t want you in the fair?”

“I don’t wonder at all.” She grabbed her book and purse and scooted to the edge of the bench seat. “It’s obvious you’ve made up your mind about me. Well, I won’t apologize for my profession. Yes, I take money, for a service. And people get their money’s worth.” She rose to stand next to the table.

“I’m not going to go away, Jason. And if you refuse to let me in the fair, you’d better be prepared for the consequences.”

She turned on her heel, but he reached out and caught her sleeve stopping her. “What’s that mean?”

“It means there’s a shop for rent on Main Street.” Pulling free, she wove her way to the door and disappeared into the darkness outside.

Oh Lord, he was in trouble. Not because she’d threatened to open up a business in his town, but because, God, he did admire gutsy women.

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