“I bet it’s what you were like.” His expression turned wistful. “Does being at events like these…does it ever make you wonder what your own kids will be like one day?”
Justine felt her heart melt a little. “Yes,” she admitted. “It does.”
“Seems like a good place to raise a family,” he added.
Now her heart melted more than a little. In fact, it felt as if she could swim in the puddle of goo she’d turned into at that last comment. It was the sort of thing she dreamed of hearing from Burke. But to have him actually say it…
“I think so too,” she managed. Her mind drifted to spots in the distant future. A day where she and Burke packed up the kids and brought them to the festival. Burke would have spent hours on the newspaper ships with them, and it would be time to see how they fared in the creek race. They’d sing on the stage while the two took pictures from the aisles. And—
“The judges have made their decision,” Tom announced with a flourish.
Burke straightened in his chair. Justine did the same.
“We’ll start by having our three finalists come up, starting with contestant number eight, The French Kiss.”
Brittany shot to a stand and tugged at the hem of her red stretchy skirt. “Oh my gosh!”
“Contestant number one, is our second finalist with the Boozy Banana Cream Pie.”
More cheers ensued as Penny Hill came to her feet and followed Brittany toward the stage.
“Last but not least, we have contestant number fourteen with her apple pie.”
“Yes!” Burke pumped a fist in the air before leaning over and kissing her smack on the lips. “Go get ‘em, babe.”
Heat rushed to her face. Never had she ever even been a finalist in the pageant before. Justine used the chair before her to steady herself as she stood, then set her eyes on the stairs leading to the amphitheater’s stage.
Brittany had stopped at the top of the stairs and was surveying the crowd with narrowed eyes.
A smile stirred in her heart as Justine waited for her to spot her. First, Brittany’s eyes landed on the spot next to Burke. Then, frantically, they searched the crowd, back, forth and then…then they settled right on Justine. Her face hardened. Her nostrils flared.
“Now,” Tom said once Justine made her way onto the stage. “Before we announce the new Pie Princess of Piney Falls, we need to allow the Prince to step forth so that he can do the honors of crowning her.
“So we’ll release our judges now, giving them one more round of applause if you don’t mind, and ask our contestants for the pie eating contest to come on up.”
Burke shot to his feet, along with a dozen others, and made his way to the stage. A second rectangular table stood beside the judges’. Two of the guys tore off their shirts on the way up—Frank and Nicolas, a recent high school graduate.
Once the group was seated, Trevor shrugged out of his shirt too. A few in the audience whistled.
Tom gave the rules as the volunteers brought out the berry pies—each a combination of raspberry and blackberry. “These are as close to identical as you’re going to get. Let’s thank Piney Falls former princesses for providing them. Remember, number one rule is keeping your hands behind your back. Are we ready?”
Burke pinched the front of his tee shirt and gave Justine a questioning look.
Should he remove it? That’s what he was asking. She nodded, then smiled as he shrugged out of the white tee and tossed it aside.
Holy abs for days…
More whistles sounded over the crowd.
“Wow,” Penny said beside her.
No kidding. Did businessmen have time to get that…ripped?
“On your mark…get set, go!”
At once all a dozen men dove face-first into their pies. Justine fought off a conflicting thought as she watched, anticipation stirring in her chest. If Burke won the contest, and then Brittany was announced winner, he’d have to crown her. Also, she would be the one he was to have the first dance with at the lighting of the tree event.
“Do it, Trevor, come on,” Brittany hollered. “Hurry.”
Encouragement rang out from the crowd as well, a fact that urged Justine to speak up for her guy. “Come on, Burke. You’ve got this.”
It was clear—as each guy was face-deep in pie, moving about their pie tin with a flurry—that they were there to win. It