We had a bit of a deal. I left them sandwiches every night, and they’d leave my trash can alone.
Well, I think we had a deal. Since raccoons didn’t speak English, it was purely speculation on my part since they hadn’t knocked the trash can over for a few weeks.
Of course, this weird little relationship played into me being single. Thanks to my eccentric grandmother, I was now known as the Racoon Lady of Creek Falls. Not that anyone ever said anything about it to my face, given that my father was the mayor.
Yep. Between that and being the kissing booth champion, there was no way I was getting married anytime soon.
Or dated, for that matter.
It was fine. I liked being single. I had the entire king-size bed to myself, and nobody was going to eat my chocolate.
Also, thanks to the invention of porn websites and sex toys, I could happily handle my own needs. Shoot, I didn’t even need the toy.
I had fingers.
Ahem.
Moving on.
Upkeep of the kissing booth was solely my responsibility—and that of my competitor’s when they showed up. It was our job to ensure that the money was kept safe so it could all be donated to a local charity at the end of the summer fair.
The winner would be the person who raised the most money—whoever kissed the most people.
Last year my competition had been easy. It was old Mr. Hawkins who owned the bait shop on the town square, and he’d gotten impetigo on his lower lip halfway through the week.
It had seriously damaged his ability to kiss anyone, but he’d made it work. He’d purchased a lip-shaped stamp and some ink and stamped everyone’s hand instead.
The kids had loved it.
I was almost a little sad he hadn’t won just because of that, but he’d stopped by the library last week and left the stamp with me.
Now, the kids could choose a kiss on the cheek or a stamp on the hand.
I just wished I could give the pensioners the same option. Most of those insisted on a genuine peck.
It was the worst thing about doing this.
I shuddered at the thought of it. I had some serious mental preparation to do, just in case Horace Peters decided he wanted to stop by on a daily basis again.
Last year, he’d almost been arrested for harassment.
I really had to call my dad and make sure there was someone stationed by the booth at all times…
I stepped forward and gripped the gaudy, purple curtains that were tied together by a huge, gold rope. If you didn’t know this was the booth, you’d think it was the home of a psychic or a palm reader. Tarot, maybe.
But, no. It was where the kissing happened.
I untied the heavy knot and let the rope fall to the sides. The thick ends hit the grass with a thud, and I only just got my foot out of the way before one hit my toes. I’d made that mistake once before.
It’d sprained my toe.
It wasn’t an experience I was keen to repeat.
I pulled open the curtains and coughed. They were musty, and the inside of the tent smelled like mothballs. It was hard to believe that it was taken down at the end of each summer and put up just before—they had to be storing this stuff in a one-hundred-year-old clothing trunk and then putting the trunk in a deserted cellar or attic somewhere.
I batted at the air in front of my nose and looked around. The wooden stage toward the back of the tent was set up, but that was all that had been done. Setting chairs and everything else out would be my job, but the first thing that had to be done was to air out these horrible velvet curtains and clean everything up.
“Jesus Christ, this smells like my grandma’s house.”
Laughing, I turned at the sound of the voice of one of my best friends. Reagan’s face was scrunched up in disgust as she looked around.
“Yep,” I replied, adjusting my bright red glasses. “They still haven’t bothered to wash the fabric. Where’s Ava?”
“Looking for food. As always.” Reagan grinned and tucked her bright purple hair behind her ear. “I told her the stalls won’t be open yet, but she didn’t listen to me.”
I snorted. “You know she’s been seeing Butler Ferris on and off. His dad has the barbecue stall this year. She’ll just head over there twirling her hair, smile a little, and she’ll show up with half a brisket, three hamburgers, six hot dogs, and three pulled pork sandwiches. Plus coleslaw and salad.”
“Huh. You’re right. Ten bucks says she shows up with food.”
“Why do you get that bet? I called it. You’re just jumping in.”
“Fine. Ten bucks says she doesn’t.”
“You’re on.”
Reagan rolled her eyes. “Hey, the Ferris stall… They’ll be cooking for the volunteers, right?”
“Yep. We all got a note that they’re hosting for us at seven tonight. We can all bring a guest, so come along with me.” I pulled a hair tie from my wrist and pulled my short, shoulder-length blond hair back into a tiny ponytail. “Do you wanna give me a hand here?”
“Not really.”
“Please? I don’t know who my competitor is this year, so I’m stuck here alone. And I’m getting you barbecue for free tonight.”
Reagan sighed. “Fine, but I’m not painting that sign again. That was a nightmare.” She pointed at the broken sign from last year.
“Only because you have the artistic ability of a sack of potatoes.” I rolled my eyes and pulled my car keys from my pocket. “Here.” I tossed them to her. “There’s a bucket full of cleaning stuff in the trunk of my car, and another one with paint stuff for the sign. I’ll do it.”
She sighed, throwing my keys in the air and catching them again. “I don’t even work here. I don’t even volunteer. Yet every year I’m roped into it.”
“Volunteer, then.”
“One year, I’m going to be your competition.”
“I look forward to it.” I grinned, grabbing the brush that was standing in the corner. “But bitching at me this year isn’t going to make that happen any sooner.”
“Whatever. I’ll be back in a minute.” She ducked as she left the tent.
I stepped up onto the old wooden stage and paused. The wood creaked, but it felt as strong as it always did. That wasn’t saying a lot since it really wasn’t that sturdy, but hey, if a floorboard gave out, it wasn’t me that would be getting sued.
Not that I liked it, but I couldn’t do anything about it. I was neither a builder nor rich.
The stage was covered in dust and dirt despite the fact it’d only been erected last night, and I pulled the curtain that separated the two “booths” back so I could sweep right across it.
The boards creaked beneath my feet, and one was a little too bouncy for my liking. It was right by the back of the booth, so it was easily covered by a plant or something like that.
Look at that.
I was making this place homey already.
God only knew I’d be spending enough time here over the next week.
“In the blue corner is Halley with a broom, and in the red corner is Ava with not one, not two, but three of Creek Falls’ finest pulled pork sammichs!”
I turned and shot my raven-haired best friend a withering look. “Sandwich. It’s called a sandwich. You’re not an internet meme.”