Chapter 3
PREGAME
My fingers plucked the edge of my shorts as I wait by the carnival entrance. I don’t often wear shorts, or a tank top this skimpy, but today is hot and I don’t want to end up a sweaty mess. Amish wear is out. Besides, these shorts are loose enough that I feel comfortable in them. They won’t ride up or stick to my legs. I usually don’t wear them out of the house in case my aunt sees me and lectures me about showing cellulite.
The crowd parts and Bear emerges. The sun streams around his wide shoulders, the soft beams caressing his profile. If I listen hard, I can hear the faint chorus from a heavenly angel choir. Mr. Perfect.
He grins when he spots me, and I wave like a dork. Grin stretching under his mirrored shades, he ambles my way and looms over me. For a moment I’m
