“I’ll try this food that’s probably going to make me throw up or gain fifteen pounds if you will give me one dance.”
He stepped out of the line, hands up. “I’m out.”
“Wow, I didn’t peg you for a quitter.” She grinned. She wasn’t positive, but she thought maybe she was flirting. She’d never really tried it before—who was she going to flirt with when she was surrounded by gay or married men? Maybe she’d just discovered a new talent. Maybe she was an expert flirter.
He stepped back in line.
She did a poor job of stifling her smug smile.
When it was their turn, he stepped forward and ordered two corndogs, drinks, and one funnel cake, which she learned was large enough to share between two people.
To be perfectly honest, the thought of eating the corndog completely grossed her out, but a deal was a deal. They got their food (the corndog was ridiculously oversized), then made their way to a different tent, one lined with picnic tables, and sat across from each other. Every once in a while, Cole lifted a hand or tossed one of those very manly “guy nods” at someone by way of a greeting.
Two different parents she’d met at the dance studio stopped to say hello to Charlotte, which surprised her. She hadn’t expected to recognize anyone at this fair. Was this what life in a small town was like?
“Okay.” Cole interrupted her thoughts. “Are you ready for this?”
“Typically eating food on a stick is against my better judgment,” she said, inhaling the doughy smell of the food between them.
“Going out in public is against my better judgment, but here we are.” The expression on his face changed in such a way that it made her think perhaps he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
“Why is that?” she asked.
He waved her off and nodded toward the corndog. “Bottom’s up.”
She picked up the corndog and stared at it.
“You’re looking at it like it’s an alien baby,” he said.
She laughed. “It might as well be.”
He dunked his in the glob of ketchup he’d squeezed onto his wrapper, so she did the same. Then, he held it up as if it were a wine glass and he was giving a toast. She touched her corndog to his and he flashed her a dimpled smile. And wow—what a smile it was.
“Cheers,” he said.
“Cheers.” She took a bite, surprised by the mix of flavors that filled her mouth—the fried batter, the tangy ketchup, a hint of salty meat—it was good.
It was good?
She chewed, savoring the bite as if it were a delicacy.
“Well?” He swallowed, then wiped his mouth with a napkin he’d balled up in his fist.
She shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this . . .”
He grinned. “Good, right?”
“So good.” She felt her eyes widen as she took another bite. “Why have I never had one of these before?”
His smile faded, turning to a lopsided grin. “I don’t know, why haven’t you?”
“Why don’t you go out in public?”
“Touché.”
“The answer is no,” she said.
He stopped chewing. “And what was the question?”
She watched as realization came over him. The kissing question. The one she’d avoided since he asked.
“Oh,” he said. “Well, that’s surprising.”
“Is it?”
“Someone who looks like you—never been kissed? Very.” He took another bite.
She shook her head. “Kind of embarrassing to admit it. I’m almost thirty.”
He shrugged. “You were busy, you know, being amazing.”
She waved him off with a smile. “Oh, how would you even know?”
“Google.” He held back a smile.
“You Googled me?” She set her corndog down and leveled his gaze. “And?”
“And . . .” He gave her his undivided attention. “Blew me away.”
She couldn’t find words to respond. She was too amazed by the fact that he’d looked her up at all. Why had he done that?
And why had he told her? It would be a lot more difficult to ignore her little crush now, especially since that little crush wasn’t so little anymore.
38
After the discussion about her lack of a love life, they ate in silence for a few minutes. Charlotte was shocked to realize that not only was she going to finish the entire corndog, she was going to have room to eat at least her share of that funnel cake.
The awkward silence that used to exist between them had vanished, and in its place was a comfortable familiarity. For the first time, Charlotte didn’t feel the need to fill the space with chatter.
“We were out in public when I found out about Gemma,” he said without looking at her.
She stopped mid-bite, set her food down, and gave him her full attention. Cole telling her this felt somewhat monumental—after all, he’d never opened up to her about himself.
“It was at a wedding, actually.” He took a drink of his soda. “I hate weddings.”
She looked away. “My partner Jameson got married two years ago. That’s the only wedding I’ve ever been to.”
“Your partner?”
“Dance partner.”
“Ah.” Cole took another bite. Chewed. Swallowed. “Gemma was seeing this guy, Max, well, you met him at the rehearsal.”
She remembered. She’d been so relieved when Brinley told her the following day that Gemma and Max had withdrawn from the recital. That she’d ever tried to be a part of it at all still astounded Charlotte. It said a lot about the kind of woman Cole’s ex was.
Her heart squeezed with empathy for him.
“So, they were a thing behind my back, but it turns out she wasn’t very discreet. Pretty much everyone in town knew before me.”
“And no one told you?”
He shrugged. “That bugged me for a long time. Most people said they hoped they’d heard wrong or they didn’t want it to be true. It was small-town gossip. They thought they were protecting me, I guess.”
She stilled. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m over it,” he said.
A lie if she’d ever heard one.
“I’m trying to get over it,” he added, as if reading her mind. “I just felt so stupid. She made me feel so stupid. Just for trusting her.”
“It shouldn’t be like that,” she said quietly. A man should be able to trust his wife.
“Anyway,” he said, “it’s a long story.”
“I’m listening.” She rolled what was left of her corndog in the ketchup, but her appetite was gone. Why did it bother her to think that not very long ago he’d had his heart broken? To think that perhaps there was a reason he was the way he was, like Lucy had said? Like everyone had said, come to think of it.
If there was a reason, somehow it excused his rudeness.
And if she excused that, he became nearly perfect. And that scared her to death.
“So, why would that one wedding make you not want to go out anymore?” she asked. “I’m sure you’ve been out lots of times where you didn’t have terrible things happen.”