…
Lucy shut her bedroom door and put her thumbs to work.
Lucy: SOS
Gina: That sounds promising.
Lucy: In what world does SOS sound promising?
Gina: The one where you’re off gallivanting around with Frankie Hartigan.
Shaking her head, she crossed the room to her closet so she could find a sundress that would help her stay cool at the carnival tonight. These weekend long events were the social event of the year in Antioch and other small towns across the state. Families timed their family get-togethers around them so the out-of-towners wouldn’t complain there was nothing to do. Locals looked forward to them as a well-earned way to let off steam and check out potential dating partners. The county carnival was such a big deal that the reunion schedule for the night was left totally open so everyone could go—including her and Frankie, which, much to her chagrin, was why she was spending more time looking at her dress options and texting the reinforcements.
Lucy: Gallivanting? With Frankie? You are a hopeless romantic.
Gina: Hello? Wedding planner here. Of course I am. So what’s up? Did you kiss him?
She hesitated, her thumbs hovering just over the keys, her heart beating fast as she remembered that kiss and what came after.
Lucy: Yes.
Gina: And?
Lucy: More.
Gina: Hell, I was just looking to see if it was good. U had sex with Frankie Hartigan???
Lucy: Not yet.
But really that’s exactly where they were heading—a prospect that was both terrifying and electric.
Gina: Get you some!
Lucy: This is a bad idea.
Gina: Why? You have a thing against orgasms?
She flopped down onto the bed and let out an exasperated huff. Not that she was annoyed with Gina. Nope, the target of her ire was herself.
Lucy: No, because it’s Frankie.
Gina: Exactly. If the Waterbury chick whisper network is to be believed, you will have many, many orgasms.
Lucy: That’s the problem.
Gina: ???
Lucy: Because, despite what some people may think, I have options and I don’t need a pity fuck from Frankie, who has probably banged every other woman in town.
Gina: 1. Hell yes you have options. 2. Who said anything about a pity fuck? 3. No slut shaming.
Lucy: He just came on this trip as a weird favor for unknown reasons. And no shaming meant. He can fuck as many women as he wants, I just don’t want to be just another faceless number.
And really, that’s what it came down to. She wanted to be wanted for her, not because she was convenient.
Gina: So you like him?
Lucy: Of course I do. He’s very likable.
She let out a groan and closed her eyes. It wasn’t fair. She snapped her eyes open at the ping alert of a new text.
Gina: No, you really like him.
Lucy: Liking him would be a very bad idea.
And a moot point because it was too late.
Gina: Stop being so cautious and live a little. There’s nothing wrong with liking someone.
There was when the likelihood of ending up hurt was less than a sliver away from 100 percent.
Gina: You’re awesome. You know it. Stop focusing so much on maintaining that tough-chick facade and let yourself have fun without worrying about what it all means.
Lucy: Are you saying I’m overanalyzing things?
Gina: Only since probably birth.
Her bestie wasn’t wrong. It took work to always be on alert for a nasty look or a snide comment so she could be prepared to strike back. It was a survival skill that had translated into the job she loved. The skills she’d learned walking the halls of Antioch High School made it so she was always ready with the perfect answer for whatever crisis one of her clients found themselves in. Of course, it was really hard to turn that off—especially when it came to protecting her own vulnerable soft spots.
Lucy: Thanks for the chat. Gotta run.
Gina: No worries. Gotta go, too! It’s cannoli time. xoxo
Sitting back up, Lucy let all of it roll through her head, then stopped herself. Gina was right. She did overanalyze. But not tonight. She seized on the thought with both hands. Tonight she’d just roll with it.
Chapter Thirteen
The sun was setting, and downtown Antioch was packed with people for the annual summer carnival, but Lucy just kept searching the crowd for one man in particular. They’d gotten here fifteen minutes ago, and he’d disappeared almost immediately.
She scanned Main Street, looking down toward the big public parking lot that had been transformed into ride central with a neon Ferris wheel looming over the Tilt-A-Whirl and teacups. The street from the park to the parking lot was shut down to traffic and lined with booths offering everything from predictions of the future to games of skill. Sure, there were a lot of people, but finding a giant redhead shouldn’t be that hard.
“Looking for me?”
A surprised gasp escaped, and she whirled around. “Where have you been?”