Batter of Wits (Green Valley Chronicles #22) - Smartypants Romance Page 0,106

most fun I've had in years."

People milled around, cheering on the runners. The vendor tents were opening up for the first official day of the festival. Over the smell of popcorn and funnel cake came roasted chicken, without a doubt one of the entrants in the chicken recipe contest.

Over the heads of the fairgoers, I searched for any sign of Tucker, but I didn't catch a single glimpse of his golden-brown hair or broad shoulders. Nervously, I tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear.

"You look beautiful, sweetie."

I looked down, because she was about a foot shorter than me. "So do you."

"If he knows what's good for him, he'll march you straight out of this place and take you home." She winked. "And if you're lucky, he won't let you leave for a few days, if you know what I mean."

My smile was impossible to stop, because, by all accounts, it was highly inappropriate for her to saying stuff like that.

"That brother of yours coming today?"

"You know Grady?"

She waved a hand. "Saw him at the grocery store a couple of days ago. He was buying some chocolate ice cream."

"Ah."

Then she winked. "He inspired my last poem. Did you hear it? It's the one about the man who paints his lovers with chocolate and then licks them clean."

"I, uh, I missed that one." I patted her arm. "Maybe you can tell me later?"

Tucker's great aunt was second on my list of choices for today, but Maxine told me she was 'too damn busy' to help me. So … Belle Cooper was it. My unlikely savior, and hopefully something that would bring a smile to Tucker's face.

We turned toward the kissing booth, and I saw the tall, red arch with white sparkling letters and light pink balloons tied to the sides. A few people lined up, blocking my view of the tables, where Tucker and I were supposed to stand.

"Kissing booth talent, coming through," Belle shouted, and I laughed under my breath.

Two men wearing plaid shirts and fishing caps turned toward us, and as they did, I saw the massive sign in front of the tables. Glossy black letters on a white background.

Kissing Booth Closed! New attraction coming.

"What the hell," I muttered, glancing around. There was no one in front of or behind the table. No sign of Tucker anywhere. The entire thing was draped in white from top to bottom. The weirdest part of all was the line. I was early—plenty early—and at least fifty people were waiting in front of the booth.

All different ages, most of them had turned to stare at me unabashedly.

A young girl holding on to her mom’s hand smiled at me, and I did my best to smile back. It didn’t take me long to recognize her from Donner Bakery. She’d come in with her Grandpa, and I snapped a photo of them sharing a cupcake.

“Belle, what is going on?” I asked.

Before she could answer, the little girl whispered something to her mom and smiled at me again.

“Why is it closed?” I asked out loud. To Belle. The men. Who even knew at that point? I just wanted answers.

“Sold out, maybe?” the guy next to me said.

Belle scoffed. "Well, who bought all the tickets?"

One man sighed. "I heard it was Jackson James."

"I heard that too," the other one said. "Heard Maxine Barton made him wear the chicken suit this year, so he shut down her kissing booth on accounts of it being a horrible idea."

"That doesn't make any sense," I said. "Why would he buy the tickets, then? Why is it closed?"

There was a tug on my hand, and when I looked down, the little girl was there, grinning up at me with the gap-toothed smile that had caught my attention in the first place.

“You take really good pictures,” she said, then ran off with a flip of her braids.

“What the hell is going on?” I whispered.

A deep voice chimed in behind me. "I'm guessing whoever closed it found a better use of the space."

The breath caught in my chest, and I pressed a hand to my fluttery stomach. Belle squeezed my hand and grinned up at me. When I turned, Tucker was there, in a white T-shirt and dark jeans, hands tucked into the front pockets. Hooked on the front of the shirt were those mirrored sunglasses, the same ones he wore the day I met him.

Tentatively, I smiled at him. "Hi.”

One measly word, and I tried my best to imbue all sorts of