where she’d been headed when he’d scooped her up. “Fish!”
He turned his head to look. “The fishing booth? Is that where you were headed?”
She nodded emphatically. “Fish, Shane!”
“You want to catch a fish?”
She bounced again. “Fish!”
Shane looked questioningly at Elle. “Looks like I’m being invited along on your fishing excursion. Do you mind?”
“Of course not.”
Perhaps Shane was feeling a bit lonely in the festive crowd of strangers. He seemed pleased to find familiar faces. Still holding Charlotte, he moved into the line waiting at the game booth where preschoolers could dangle a fishing line over an ocean-painted backboard. Hidden behind the backboard, festival volunteers attached small stuffed toys to the lines with plastic clothespins for the children to “catch.” Because the area was already crowded, Elle and her mother stayed back out of the way, watching from nearby. Elle had her phone in hand to snap a photo as Charlotte obtained her prize.
“Oh, my goodness, how cute is that?” Janet clutched Charlotte’s plastic pumpkin bucket to her heart as she watched Shane help Charlotte grip the toy fishing rod. “Isn’t he adorable?”
Adorable might not have been the word Elle would have chosen to describe Shane—but she couldn’t take issue with it, either. He was cute as he made an exaggerated show of helping Charlotte cast her line over the backboard, drawing a peal of giggles from the child. The man was definitely good with kids.
“You should ask him to dinner while he’s in town. I’d be happy to babysit, of course. Maybe you could take him to Bruno’s tomorrow night.”
Elle resisted the impulse to roll her eyes. “Mom, I’m not going to ask him out.”
“Why not? It’s okay for women to do that, you know.”
“Yes, I know it’s okay, but Shane is only in town for a few days on business. He lives in North Carolina and apparently travels quite a bit. For all I know, he could be leaving town tonight.”
Her mom gave her a look. “Wouldn’t hurt to ask. I have a feeling you and Shane could be just right for each other. I could tell the first time I touched him that he’s a fine, upstanding young man.”
Elle didn’t bother to point out that her mother had thought the same about Glenn. They’d both been fooled by Glenn’s practiced smiles and deliberately chosen words. Needless to say, Elle wasn’t placing a lot of faith in her mom’s newest “prediction.”
Shane toted Charlotte over to them then. Charlotte gleefully gripped a small, stuffed black cat in one hand. “Mommy, look! Kitty!”
Had it been merely coincidence that the child’s prize matched her costume? Or had the volunteer peeked around the backboard before attaching the toy to the clip on the end of the fishing line? Elle suspected the latter.
She slipped her phone in her pocket and reached for her daughter. “That’s a beautiful kitty, Charlotte. Say ‘thank you’ to Shane for helping you at the fishing booth.”
“T’ank you, Shane,” the child parroted obediently.
“You’re very welcome, Charlotte.”
“Are you getting hungry, Charlotte?” her grandmother asked, motioning toward the other end of the park where picnic tables were surrounded by food vendors. Tempting scents from grills and fry buckets wafted from that direction. There weren’t many healthy offerings, but plenty of celebrated festival foods were among the selections. “We can have hot dogs or fried chicken. You like both of those.”
“Chicken,” Charlotte announced immediately, squirming for Elle to put her down. “Want chicken.”
Janet took the child’s hand, then smiled coyly at Shane. “We’d love to have you join us for a bite, Shane. Do you like fair food?”
“Who doesn’t like fair food? Okay with you, Elle?”
He turned to face her, and she noted that his hair showed even more tendency to curl now that he was wind-blown and slightly disheveled. Feeling her fingers twitch in response, she pushed her hands into her pockets and spoke cheerily. “Of course it’s okay.”
A few minutes later they settled at a picnic table with their guilty-pleasure Southern dinners. Charlotte and her grandmother were sharing fried chicken and waffles. Elle and Shane indulged in bowls of buttery, cheesy shrimp, and grits with andouille sausage and a dash of cayenne pepper. Elle was fully aware their group was getting some curious glances from people who knew her. Being so busy with work and family, she hadn’t dated much—at all, really—since her divorce, so speculation was sure to be aroused by seeing her sharing a meal with a good-looking man.
Between the food, the cacophony of sounds surrounding them, frequent greetings from passing acquaintances and Charlotte’s excitement-fueled chattering, there was little chance for real conversation among the adults at the table. Which didn’t stop Elle’s mom from trying to find out all she could about Shane. Elle winced a couple of times, hoping she’d been a little subtler than her mom at interrogating the interesting visitor. As he had with her, Shane answered the questions with patient tolerance, though Elle learned little about him that she hadn’t already known.
Charlotte held up a gnawed chicken drumstick. “Bite, Shane?”
Such a flirt, Elle thought with an amused shake of her head even as Shane answered, “No, thank you, Charlotte. I still have some of my own dinner left.”
While Elle tried to wipe her squirming child’s food-smeared face with a paper napkin, her mom spoke to Shane. “You’re very good with children.”
“I like kids,” he replied lightly.
“None of your own, though?”
Elle cleared her throat pointedly as a warning to her mother not to get too nosy, but Shane answered with a smile. “No, none of my own. I’ve never been married.”
“Elle told me you’re from Fayetteville. Do your parents still live there?”
Remembering that he’d recently lost his father, Elle winced and started to intervene, but again Shane responded evenly. “My mother died when I was only three. My dad died last year. But my grandmother, my uncle and my cousin and her family all still live in Fayetteville, so there’s no shortage of family there.”
Even Elle’s sometimes-oblivious mother could see it was time to back away. She focused on wiping Charlotte’s mouth while Elle changed the subject to something less precarious. She knew she would reflect later about this other great loss in Shane’s life.
“Have your business meetings gone well, Shane? Wasn’t I right about Trevor Farrell being a nice guy?”
“He is.”
“And his resort is beautiful.”
“Very.”
“Do you think you got the account?” her mother asked, unable to resist chiming in again.
It
