Fake Dating My CEO Enemy: A Sweet Second Chance Romance by Heart Tricia

Author:Heart, Tricia
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-01-16T00:00:00+00:00

11

ALLIE

The robin blue of the sky fades into a mellow eggplant, bringing the twinkle lights strung around the town square to life. This idealized portrait of reality sweeps me away to a remote, cozy feeling until a bothered nasal twang sounds off behind me.

“Is everyone in their designated places? Have we all assumed the proper positions?”

‘Yes, Hamish, we’ve been ready. You’re the one prolonging admissions with the multiple rounds of inspection.”

“Well, forgive me, Harold. Benedict hasn’t had our beloved carnival in years, and that’s big news. We’ve got folks from all over Connecticut visiting.”

“Plus, we want to do right by the Antoni’s. We all have fond memories from the bakery; let’s keep it alive!”

“That’s the spirit, Ethel, here here! Let’s get this show on the road.”

With a flourish of his hand, Hamish signals to the PTA moms in the ticket booth. A fresh wave of anxiety leaps up inside me as people begin to stream in, a feeling so strong that Dash picks up on it.

“Everything is going to go great,” He says, lifting his hand as if he was going to meld it with my back before lowering it. I’m annoyed with myself for wishing he’d gone through with it.

“Yeah, and how do you know? Are you as psychic as Minerva?”

“No, but I’m a little psychic. Everyone is.”

“Ok, Dash, are you ready to take a spin?” I say as I pat the seat next to me. The Pedersons had lent us their golf cart so we could make rounds, and they had even gone to the trouble of wrapping the frame in twinkle lights. Cue the teary eyes.

“Shouldn’t I be the driver?”

“No, sir, you already drive enough as is. Besides, I’m the one they lent it to.”

The modest trickle of patrons was starting to build into a viscous froth. The usual suspects were present, but there were also people I’d never seen before.

“I guess Hamish wasn’t kidding about the turnout, huh?”

“Why would he? Everyone in Connecticut remembers how iconic this carnival was. Which reminds me, Allie…”

“Oooh, look at Minerva’s booth!”

Velvet drapes in the shade of luscious grapes hang over a tent frame next to a carved wooden sign saying, ‘Come have your fortune told by Minerva Whitaker, Benedict’s renowned psychic.’

“Dash, let’s go inside and check it out!”

“Allie, we can’t right now; we have to finish our first set of rounds.”

Something about Minerva’s tent was calling to me like a siren. Once again, I was at odds with the limits of duty and responsibility.

“Mmkay, I’m going back on what I just said. You can be the driver and do the first set of rounds.”

“But, Allie, shouldn’t you come along? This is your event, after all.”

“Yes, Dashiell, I know the implications and what’s at stake. Trust me, I’ve given myself stress acne over it. Please, just let me give in to this one whim.”

Conflicting emotions battle it out in Dash’s composure until he slumps over with a sigh, turning the key in the ignition.

“It’s always ‘just this one thing’.”

“Thank you, Dash; I’ll try to be done by the time you come back.

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