“There’s a harvest market?” Boaz glanced through the glass and whistled. “That’s impressive.”
More than anything, it reminded him of a fair, but there were craft vendors in addition to the games, rides, and abundance of food trucks and restaurant booths.
“Why did Gustav want us here?” Cass mused. “There are too many witnesses.”
“Humans are in the mix,” Addie warned him. “This is a fall thing. There’s usually a…” she squinted against the night then pointed out behind the farthest rows of stalls, “…bonfire.”
“The Saturday after Homecoming,” Cass explained. “The town parties all weekend.”
Addie shook her head. “How do you remember this stuff?”
“I always know where to find food when I’m snackish.” She bared her teeth. “Predator, remember?”
“I wish I hadn’t asked,” Addie muttered. “There was never going to be a good answer from you.”
“You two go in. Mingle. Couples are less conspicuous.” Cass turned into the lot and found a parking spot far enough away to prevent us from getting blocked in. “Figure out why Gustav wanted us here.”
“What will you be doing?” Addie leaned forward. “You can’t blend dressed like that.”
Boaz was starting to think every garment in Cass’s closet was leather, skintight, and missing a few yards of fabric.
“Don’t fret.” Cass awarded her a feline smile. “I have plenty to keep me occupied.”
“Okay.” Addie got out then turned back to him. “Get moving.” She snapped her fingers. “I smell funnel cakes.”
Boaz let himself out his door, breathed in the night air perfumed with fried foods and grilled meats, and his stomach rumbled in response. “You come to these often?”
“Uh, no. I avoid them like the plague.” She shrugged. “Unless I really, really need a funnel cake.”
“Does that happen a lot?”
“More than I would like to admit.” She patted her stomach. “They’re so doughy and sugary and greasy. I shouldn’t want them, I know they’re bad for me, but how can I resist?”
“Resistance is overrated.” He cut her a look. “Eat the funnel cake.”
“I suppose I could always start dieting for the wedding after tonight.”
“I hate to point out the obvious,” he drawled, “but your dress will be white, right?”
“It’s tradition,” she agreed, sounding amused. “So probably.”
“Then I don’t see the problem. Let’s have funnel cake at the wedding. White dress, white sugar. Who will ever know?”
Surprised laughter shot out of her. “I like how you think.”
“I like you, Addie. Let’s try to keep it real between us, okay?”
“Done.” She flashed him a bright smile. “Real sounds good.”
Are you going to tell her about Grier?
Are you going to explain why your heart’s currently unavailable?
Are you going to be honest to pay her back for coming clean with you?
Once he broke the news of his engagement to Grier, he had no reason to tell Addie about her. Grier would cut him out of her heart, out of her life. That was the right thing for her to do, the smart thing. She deserved better. She always had, and he had been a fool to think he could live up to her expectations.
Things with Addie were good. Far better than he had any right to expect. He didn’t want to start their relationship with the specter of Grier between them. Not when she was already haunting him.
Bawk. Bawk. Bawk.
Hell, yes, he was a chicken.
Give him a bucket of paint and a brush, and he would swipe the yellow line down his own back.
“How do you feel about turkey legs and roasted corn on a stick for dinner?” Addie cut through the crowd, nodding here and there to folks she knew. “That will keep us mobile while we perform our recon.”
“I am the least picky eater you’re ever going to find. You choose. Whatever you want. My treat.” Her smile faltered, and he could have kicked himself. “That’s not a dig at your financial situation.”
“I know.” She kept walking. “I’m sensitive about it, so I tend to read more into things than is there.”
“I’ll let you buy me dinner, if you prefer.”
Addie glanced over at him then, and her smile was gorgeous. “I’d like that.”
They approached one of the food trucks and got in line behind a tense couple. Boaz didn’t expect much in the way of gossip, but there were always those among the preternatural set who didn’t care who overheard what. They figured, rightly, humans didn’t see what they didn’t want to see or hear what they didn’t want to hear. Out of context, most of their conversations came across as normal-ish.
The prickle of energy dancing across his skin informed him they were vampires, which perked his ears.
“We moved here to get away from danger,” a woman was saying. “This place is the opposite of safe.”
“The past few years have been quiet,” the man argued. “This too shall pass.”
“The children…” She stared off in the distance. “We’re taking a risk by bringing them here.”
“That’s why we’re going to stay, embarrass them in front of their friends, and make sure they come home safe.” He took her hand. “Peace, Gertie. Our little ones are protected.”
“Twyla’s parents thought so too,” she said softly, fear bright in her eyes.
The man pulled her into his arms, and they stayed like that until it was their turn to order.
“Clan Willis,” Addie said when they were out of hearing range. “I recognize them.”
“How many fosters do they have?”
“The numbers are a closely guarded secret, but they adopt more often than most clans.”
“I wonder why that is.”
Adoption of human children wasn’t a crime, but some of the things vampires got up to with the ones they collected kept him up at night after working particularly disturbing cases.
“Cass says it has to do with how Ari had three younger sisters. There was an older sister too, but she married poor, for love, and had three kids of her own. She couldn’t afford more mouths to feed, so Ari and the others were put into different orphanages. Only two of the girls got adopted. Ari and the next eldest. They
