“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.”
She widened her bright blue eyes, put on an over-exaggerated smile, and waved one of the sandwiches in my direction. “Sammiiiiicccchhhhh!”
I needed new friends.
I put the broom down and jumped down from the stage. “You flirted with Butler, didn’t you?”
She pursed hot-pink lips and blinked innocently from behind her yellow-framed glasses. “Just a little.”
“Reagan owes me ten bucks.” I took my sandwich from her. “If this carries on like this, I’m gonna be rich by the end of the fair.”
Ava put Reagan’s sandwich on one of the small tables that were dotted around. “Are you betting on me? I’m not a fan of that.”
“We always bet on you. I always win. I’m like five hundred bucks richer at this point.”
Ava rolled her eyes as she unpackaged her sandwich. “Who’s your competition this year? Do you know yet?”
I shook my head, sitting on the edge of the stage. “No. They were supposed to meet me here, but I doubt that’s going to happen now. Nobody likes to set this place up.”
“Do you think you’ll find out tonight at the cookout?”
“I hope so. I need to arrange a schedule for getting this booth set up. I’m not going to do it all.”
She snorted. “Come on, Hals. You know what will happen. You’ll set up a schedule, but nobody will organize it the way you want, so you’ll end up doing it anyway.”
I paused. “Shut up.”
“Umph!” Reagan dumped the stuff from my car down on the grass. “Shit me, that stuff is heavy.” She looked up at us. “Sandwiches?”
“Yep. And you owe me ten bucks.” I grinned.
Ava frowned as Reagan stuck her hand into the back pocket of her shorts. “Gotta stop making these bets,” she muttered, pulling apart some bills to find a ten.
“I agree,” Ava added. “You should stop!”
“Thank you.” I plucked the ten dollars from Reagan’s hand. “I’m not stopping. I keep winning.”
“Whatever. We’re putting a bet on you.” Reagan grabbed her sandwich. “I bet you’ll lose the kissing contest this year.”
“No way!” Ava shook her head. “Nuh-uh. The only way she’ll lose is if she retires.”
“I’m calling it. Halley is going to lose the title this year.”
“No. It’s all she has. Except for her raccoons, but they’re technically not even hers.”
“Hey!” I chimed in. “Leave the trash pandas out of this. And I’m with Ava—there’s no way I’m losing my crown this year. Unless a Hemsworth brother shows up. Or Nick Jonas. Then I’d willingly lose, to be honest. I’d be in their line myself.”
Reagan laughed, then looked to Ava. “Fifty bucks says she loses.”
“Fifty?” Ava squealed. “I don’t have fifty bucks!”
“Neither do I. Halley won all my money, and since all our bets are about you and your love life, you owe me.”
I rolled my eyes. “Ava, just make the bet. I’m not going to lose. I have never lost.”
She looked between us for a second. “Fine.” She shook Reagan’s hand. “But if you lose, you owe me fifty bucks.”
Snorting, I stood up and grabbed the bucket with the paint stuff for the sign. “Nice try. This isn’t my bet.”
CHAPTER TWO
* * *
HALLEY
My Best Friend’s Brother
The fair wasn’t due to start for another three days, but the Ferris family’s cookout was a tradition. They owned the biggest barbecue restaurant in town and were somewhat iconic in Creek Falls.
The cookout actually started by accident a few years ago—Barney Ferris had gotten his dates all mixed up and started cooking too early, so he invited all the volunteers and their kids to pitch up and grab a bite to eat. It’d been so much fun that he’d kept it up.
Now, it was the locals favorite night of the fair.
Except for the final one where there was a massive talent contest, a la America’s Got Talent. But we didn’t have Simon Cowell. We had my father, my grandmother, and Reagan’s crazy Great-Aunt Bethel.
Not exactly a stellar line-up, but it made for some great entertainment. It was mostly my dad shaking his head at the older ladies and swearing he won’t do it again.
Spoiler alert: he does it.
Every single year.
I tied the ropes that held the booth curtains together and stepped away from the tent. It was in much better shape than it’d been earlier when I’d arrived. Without sounding too much like Draco Malfoy, I was going to have to speak to my dad about it.
Nobody wanted to kiss people while in a room that smelled like mothballs.
I also needed an allowance for Febreeze.