I clap Colton on the back.
“I was going to go grab a funnel cake,” Colton says, making Sophia’s eyes light up like he just announced they were going on a three-week beach vacation. “Drew, wanna tag a long?”
I look over at Izzy who is focused on slathering both hers and Andy’s hands and arms, clean up to their elbows in hand sanitizer.
“Izzy loves the turkey legs,” Sophia offers with a wink.
Colton and I walk away, heading toward the concession area of the festival.
“This place gets crazy at about noon. People wait in line for forever to get some of this stuff. Stay away from the Cajun food stand. They say their stuff is fresh, but I have it on good authority that they buy it frozen.”
“Good authority?” I can’t help but laugh.
“Rick is working at the grocery store to save for college spending money. He said last week that old man Guidry came in and bought fifty pounds of frozen crawfish.”
“The horror,” I tease with a grin. “So small-town life is good?”
“The best, but I wouldn’t call it a small town. We have a population over forty-five thousand, but I’ve lived here my entire life and never forget a face. You know how it is.”
“I do,” I agree. A good memory and recall is what makes a good cop. For once, I don’t feel the pain of that loss—like a fist to the chest—like I normally do.
At some point during my prison sentence, I took a step back and evaluated my life. I knew that if I could have any form of relationship with my son and interaction with Izzy, where I worked didn’t matter. I no longer wanted to live—or die as it were—for the job. My focus needed to be on my family, and I lucked out with the job at Lawson’s shop because he’s all about his family as well.
Which reminds me.
“Lawson and Delilah are going to need that room I’m staying in back soon. Got any leads on apartments?”
“Those newer ones out on the interstate aren’t bad, but they’re not exactly suited for a family.”
“Oh.” I look over the menu, deciding what I’m in the mood for. “I don’t know how much time Andy will be spending with me. Izzy doesn’t even leave the room while I’m there.”
“Still. There are a couple of houses for rent over on Carl that would be suitable. Plus, you have a few months to decide.”
We place our orders, a funnel cake for Sophia and a turkey leg each for Izzy and me.
“What are you doing tonight?” Colton asks as we walk back in the direction we left the girls. “I have a poker game going.”
“Sounds illegal,” I tease.
“We don’t play for real money, but with the way Monahan plays, you’d think the fate of the free world rested on his shoulders.”
“The police chief?” He confirms with a nod.
“He’s not really all that bad.”
“I’m not sure they’d appreciate sharing time with a felon,” I mutter, my hope of getting out of the house fading away as quickly as it arrived.
“I want you to come. They won’t mind. Seven o’clock if you’re interested.” He gives me the address as we walk up to the girls.
Izzy looks surprised with the turkey leg, making it clear she didn’t hear a word Sophia said while she scrubbed the evil goat germs off our son.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
The trade off—one of the turkey legs for Andy—goes smoothly, and she grins around the leg as she sinks her teeth into it. I have to look away. Sophia chuckles when I turn to show Andy some vendor selling silly hats. Clearly she didn’t miss my reaction.
Chapter 39
Isabella
“Insanely,” I say before licking salt off the back of my hand, “unfair.”
“It was a carnival game, Iz.” Sophia hands me a shot of tequila, cocking any eyebrow when it doesn’t make my face scrunch.
Only the first three caused that reaction. I don’t know what number that one was, but I didn’t even taste it. It may not be a good thing. It’s definitely going to cause problems tomorrow, but right now, I just don’t care. Gigi offered to watch Andy when he passed out early from a hard day at the carnival and since I needed a serious distraction, I took her up on the offer.
“Did you not see his back flex? I swear Under Armour should be outlawed. Or at least make guys buy a size bigger than the one they think would work. I could see every muscle.” I chew on a lime wedge before looking at my friend. “Every single one.”
“So you’re into backs.”
“I’m into Drew O’Neil,” I confess then slap a hand over my mouth. “Just joking. Ha ha?”
She chuckles. “Yeah, ha ha. Funny joke. You’re obsessed with that man.”
“Am not,” I argue. “He just has a great back.”
“You spent quite a while staring at his front today as well if I recall correctly.”
“You should pay more attention to your own man. He looked lonely today.”
She huffs, knowing I’m full of shit. “I can’t get enough of him. If anything, he was grateful my focus was elsewhere. I threatened to suck him off at the festival.”
“What?” I shake my head. “Where would you even do that? Don’t say the port-a-potty. I may actually puke, and that would be a waste of perfectly good tequila.”
“No puking,” she says. “At least not until morning.”
“No puking at all,” I counter, but I know if I keep going, it’s going to happen anyway. And since I have no plans to stop until my head forgets all about Drew O’Neil and his perfect back, then it looks like I’ll be worshipping the porcelain throne come morning, if not sooner.
“In the emergency aid tent.”
“What?”
“That’s where I threatened to do it.”
“Do what?” She’s not making any sense.
“You can’t even carry on a conversation,” she says, but there’s a smile on her glowing face.
“Because you’re making me drink all alone.”
“I’m pregnant, you fool. Here, have another one.”
Not bothering to lick and salt my hand, I simply tilt the saltshaker over my mouth and tap the side. The shot is held in front of me.
“You’re the best bartender ever.” I tilt back the shot and take the lime wedge from her fingers.
“Are we going to talk about Drew?”
“No.”
“Really? You don’t want to?”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t or you don’t want to with me?”
I search her face, my buzzing mind unable to decide which one of her heads to focus on so I look at the wall.
“I don’t want to be judged.”
“Judged because you have the hots for a good-looking guy?”
“He’s not just a good-looking guy, Soph. He’s my baby’s father.”
“I’m well aware.” She places her hand over mine when I reach for the saltshaker again. “And we have hardly talked since he got back. I know you’re feeling… stuff.”
“Stuff?” I snort, an awful sound escaping both my mouth and nose at the same time. “I feel like I should jump his bones. He’s so flipping hot. And he smells amazing. It’s like woodsy and fresh some days, and others, it’s like he rolled around in man.”