She cuddled the bear proudly as they made their way through the crowded lanes. Hardy bought her an ice cream cone and regretted it almost instantly when he found that he couldn’t take his eyes off her mouth as she ate. Each time her tongue flicked out to lick at it, Hardy felt his body throb in response. He was almost glad when a particularly rambunctious boy slammed into an unsuspecting Miracle and knocked the cone from her hand.
For a moment, he felt bad for her as she stared down at the pink blob melting quickly into a puddle on the warm pavement. And even though it tortured him to watch her eat it, he’d have bought her another one if it would’ve made her happy. Much to his surprise, however, Miracle just laughed and shrugged, licking ice cream from her fingertips.
“Well, it was good while it lasted,” she said casually. “How ‘bout a ride on the Ferris wheel?”
And just like that, she was over it and moving on to the next wondrous thing. Hardy simply smiled and shook his head, always in awe of her. “Does nothing ever upset you?”
“Only if I let it,” she answered enigmatically, winking one emerald eye at him. “Now move it, slow poke! We’ve got dangerous rides to ride and bad food to eat!”
On their way around the carnival to the Ferris wheel, they passed a trailer that sold the typical variety of carnival food—hot dogs, corn dogs, onion rings, popcorn, cotton candy, and caramel apples. Miracle stopped in her tracks and sniffed dramatically.
“Omigod, what is that smell?”
“Probably a mixture of ten different foods being deep fried. Wanna try something?”
Miracle nodded and turned in the direction of the trailer. She slid into line and perused the menu on the front of the trailer as she moved forward. When it was her turn to order, she dealt Hardy another surprise.
“I’ll take one of everything.”
The red-haired woman behind the glass window raised her eyebrows in question. Hardy watched Miracle smile broadly at the woman and nod, as if to say you heard me right. Hardy chuckled as the woman wrote down Miracle’s order, shaking her head as her pen moved.
“Do you want something to drink?”
“A large Coke.”
The woman shook her head again, but the corners of her mouth twitched a little as if she were fighting back a smile. With a flair, she tore the order sheet off the pad and held it up for Miracle to see as she announced the total. Miracle didn’t bat an eye, just reached for the small purse strapped across her body.
Hardy grabbed her wrist to still her. “Oh, no! My treat. I’ve gotta see this,” he teased, handing the cashier some bills.
Miracle simply smiled at him and turned back toward the trailer. In less than two minutes, Hardy was helping her carry an armload of food to one of the nearby picnic tables set up for people to eat upon. As they spread out the feast, Hardy couldn’t help but chuckle again.
“There’s no way you can eat even a quarter of all this.”
Miracle stepped across the bench seat and sat down, unfolding a napkin and tucking it in at her throat like a bib. She then proceeded to roll up sleeves she wasn’t wearing and tip her chin confidently at Hardy. “Watch me.”
And so he did. He watched and laughed with her as she decimated her hot dog, chomped on her corn dog, nibbled at her onion rings, and popped pieces of her popcorn into her mouth.
“Want a bite?” she asked at one point, holding her half-eaten corn dog out to him.
Hardy was perfectly content to watch her eat, but something about tasting the place where her mouth had just been had him nodding his answer. Slowly, Miracle held the corn dog to his lips and Hardy took a bite.
As he chewed, he thought it was the best corn dog he’d ever had, that he could surely taste the sweetness of her mouth lingering on the food. But then he quit tasting what he was chewing, focusing only on Miracle as she watched him eat.
The bright green of her eyes was nearly eclipsed by her dilated pupils. Unabashedly, she watched his mouth. Hardy had to consciously fight back a groan when her tongue slipped out to lick her lips. When she reached forward, he stopped chewing and held his breath. With one fingertip, she swiped at the corner of his mouth, pulling her yellow-stained finger away.
“Mustard,” she muttered, sticking the digit into her mouth.
He watched her suck it clean, his pants getting suspiciously tight in response to the innocuous yet strangely erotic gesture. When she lifted her eyes to his, the heat in them seared him all the way to his toes, making it hard for him to finish chewing and swallow the food he was supposed to be eating.
Her eyes searched his for several long moments before she spoke. “Good, isn’t it?” she asked huskily.
“Delicious,” he croaked, nearly overcome with the urge to ravage her mouth, to slide his tongue inside and taste a much more intoxicating treat.
“Well, well, well,” a familiar sharp voice called, intruding once again on an intimate scene. “School must be more demanding for some people. You sure are puttin’ in a lot of time ‘helping her out’, Hardy. And seriously, I hope you don’t look at all your friends that way.”
Hardy turned a cool eye to Cheyenne, who had approached from his right. She was with Nate.
For a moment, no one said anything. The tension built quickly, but Nate stepped in with humor to relieve at least a small portion of it.
“He doesn’t look at me that way, but he totally should. This body is made of pure ivory hotness,” Nate teased, rubbing a hand playfully across his chest. His attempt to lessen the sting of Cheyenne’s words was blatant and marginally effective.
“The only people who consider you hot, Nate, are the visually impaired and the exceedingly desperate,” Hardy joked in return, thankful for his friend’s quick interjection.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” Nate declared, ignoring Hardy in favor of Miracle. The appreciation in his eyes was plain to see and it didn’t escape Cheyenne’s notice. Or Hardy’s. He had to put forth a gargantuan effort not to snap viciously at his friend when he winked flirtatiously at Miracle. “Nathan Blevins.”
Her smile as light and natural as it always was, Miracle wiped her hand on a spare napkin and stuck it out at Nate. “Miracle St. James. It’s a pleasure.”
Nate grinned mischievously. “The pleasure is all mine.”
Hardy bristled. He felt his lips tighten into a thin line and he wanted to tell Nate and Cheyenne to get lost, but he held his tongue. He didn’t want to turn Miracle off with a ridiculously juvenile display of jealousy. He had no claims on her, after all, no rights to her. And Hardy was pretty sure that’s what bothered him most—that Miracle wasn’t his and his alone.