terrible, terrible things to her tonight. Things that involved those impossible shapes.
“You sure you’re not the sharing type?” Aaron muttered to him over the music.
Simon chuckled and patted Aaron’s knee. “Never, old boy. And even if I were, I’m sorry to say it wouldn’t be with you.”
“Shame.” Aaron shook his head. “Because…damn.”
“Look and enjoy all you like.” Simon shrugged a shoulder.
“You aren’t going to rip my eyeballs out for it?”
“Mmm…” He thought it over for a moment. He saw no harm in letting others appreciate Cora. Indeed, he had just discovered he enjoyed it. “No.”
“Simon, I think she’s softening you up.”
“Trust me, Barker. Nothing about me is soft.” He viciously grinned.
To his surprise, Aaron laughed. Quietly, as to not disturb the show, but his shoulders shook in humor. When Aaron smiled at him, it was…almost a look of amusement. Like one friend might give another.
Simon turned his head away and made a face and gagged.
Cora finished her routine. She stood and listened to the crowd cheer and applaud. She bowed. She was breathing a little heavily. Her muscles were tired. Her wrists ached a bit from having been in handstands for so long.
But she felt better than she had in years.
She felt better than she might have ever felt in her life.
The lights came up in the tent. Some of the crowd stood, smiling at her, and began to make their way out. But to her shock and confusion…many stayed behind to talk to her.
She stood there, flabbergasted, as several people came up to complement her.
“That was beautiful!”
“That was amazing.”
“Where did you learn to do that?”
“I’ve never seen anything like that.”
“Can I get a picture with you?”
Shyly, she answered their questions, thanked them for their compliments, and even posed in photos with strangers. It was such a foreign experience she didn’t know what else to do but smile furtively and deal with the onslaught of attention.
“Hey…uh…” One guy came up to her, grinning. It was that lopsided expression of I’m-about-to-do-something-stupid-watch-me-go that only certain men were able to achieve, and only during a particular time in their lives. She sensed what was coming before it fell. “Can I get your number?”
She smiled and chuckled politely. “Thank you, but no. I’m flattered, but—”
An arm slung around her waist and pulled her into the side of a man who she instantly recognized by feel alone, even without the smell of antiques and old cologne. “But she’s very taken, young man. Sorry to disappoint.”
The man’s cocky expression faltered and instantly deflated. “Yeah, hey, sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Nothing taken, save a compliment. She is quite the vision, I agree. Now, shoo, off with you.” Simon waved his hand dismissively at the young man. He quickly obeyed and was gone.
She looked at the Puppeteer, the lights in the tent reflecting off his mismatched sunglasses. “How did I do?”
“Phenomenally. You’re quite the star. I think you’ll have sold out crowds for as long as you want to have them.” He smirked.
It was a cheap shot, but she let it go by without comment.
“How do you feel?” he asked, leaning down to kiss her temple. “Did you enjoy yourself?”
“Yeah…yeah, I did. That was…I don’t even know how to describe it. That was amazing.”
“Good.” He lowered his voice. “Better or worse than sex?”
She laughed and slapped her palm on his chest. “Simon, stop being such a horny bastard.”
“Well, if you said worse, I was going to make it up to you with a night of amazing, kinky sex. If you said better, I was going to prove you wrong with a night of amazing, kinky sex.” He shrugged innocently. “But now you seem offended, so I—”
“Excuse me!”
Someone broke into their conversation. The voice was young. She turned and looked down and smiled at the young girl standing in front of her. She was a blonde, pretty little thing. Might have been eleven or twelve, judging by her height. She was holding a souvenir book. It was filled with photographs, some color, some black and white. The header on the top read “The Performers of Harrow Faire!”
She had never seen it before. But the girl was thrusting it toward her, holding out a silver marker in her other hand. “Can I have your autograph?” she piped.
Trying to catch up with what she was seeing but adhering to the human need to not be socially awkward, she quickly blurted out, “Of course.” She took the book from the young girl. She could see a few other people standing