Crazy Hot Love (Dirty Dicks 2)

“Yeah? What did you expect?”

She shrugs and smiles at me. “I don’t know. Most men usually take me to a fancy restaurant where they can wine and dine me.”

“I’m not most men.”

“I know you’re not. And this is perfect.” She pushes up on her toes and in the middle of the sidewalk with people milling about, Claire kisses me for all the world to see. “I’ve always loved coming here,” she says, turning around to take it all in.

Stepping up behind her, I set my chin on her shoulder. “Where should we start? Food? Games? Rides?”

“Hmmm.” She taps a finger to her lips. “How about food.”

“Carnival food it is.”

“But not just any carnival food. I want a funnel cake and a lemon shake-up and cotton candy.”

“Sugar high, here we come.” I kiss Claire’s cheek, grab her hand again, and guide her to the closest vendor.

“One funnel cake, a lemon shake-up, and a tub of cotton candy, please.”

The worker smiles and collects my cash. “The funnel cake will be just a minute,” he says, handing me the tub of cotton candy and the lemon shake-up, which I hand to Claire. “Claire Daniels, is that you?”

Claire nudges me out of the way so she can look into the vend

ing cart. Her eyes widen, and if I can tell by the look on her face that if she could throw herself at the man serving us, she would.

“Jerry, it’s so good to see you! How’ve you been? I had no idea you were working down here.”

The older man shrugs and hands her the funnel cake. “I’m good. I started working here a few months back. I’m only here a couple of nights a week, but it gets me out of the house.”

A woman and her son step up behind us.

“It was so good to see you,” Claire says. “Please, tell Joanne I said hello.”

“I will.” He waves at us through the window as we walk away.

I lead Claire to a picnic table off to the side, and we sit down. She digs into the funnel cake with abandon. I spend several minutes just watching her eat. Most women I’ve taken out wouldn’t have dreamed of ordering a funnel cake and cotton candy. They probably would’ve searched for a salad or just starved rather than put that much sugar into their bodies. But that’s one of the things I enjoy about Claire—she doesn’t care. She is who she is, loves the things she loves, and she doesn’t apologize for it.

“This is amazing,” she mumbles around a bite. “I should’ve tipped Jerry.”

“How do you know him?”

“Who, Jerry?”

I nod and steal a bite of her fried dough.

“He was on the fire department with my dad years ago. He and his wife, Joanne, used to come over and play cards.”

“They don’t come over anymore?”

Claire swallows her food and shrugs. “Not really. After Daddy died, everyone came over all the time to check on us, but as the days turned into months, that faded. Everything just sort of changed after his death.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to kill the mood. I was just curious.”

She peels off another chunk of dessert. “Don’t be sorry. I like talking about my dad. No one ever brings him up because they’re afraid it’ll upset me, but it does the opposite. It’s fun to remember those times with him.”

“Well, I’ll have to bring him up more often.”

She smiles. “I hope you do.”