Free Leave Tomorrow Behind (Stella Crown Series) by Judy Clemens Page A

out.”
She gave me a look, like what the heck was I saying, but seeing Bryan and his NASCAR accessories always made me feel like I needed to talk hillbilly, or we’d leave him out of our conversations. I know. I’m an ass. But, come on. Does he really have to wear the ginormous Jeff Gordon belt buckle and T-shirt and the watch with all the fancy timers? Was he afraid that without those identifying markers he would disappear?
“Sorry,” I said, “we’re just tired. This is our second time here today, and Nick’s doing his ghost impression.”
“I’m better now,” he said. “That funnel cake helped. We can stay longer.”
“Nick—”
“Ooh, funnel cake?” Carla grabbed my elbow and turned me around, walking me back toward the fairway. I glared at Nick, and he grinned. I’d make him pay later. In a good way.
“So,” I said. “You get things worked out from earlier today?”
Carla blinked, like she was having to reroute her thought processor from focusing on fatty foods. “What things?”
“You know. The parents who thought their animal was going to get sick from the neighboring stall.”
“Oh, them. Talk about drama. You’d think these people had never seen a cow before. But then, maybe these people haven’t.”
“Who?”
“That family. The ones who always buy their animals from the State Fair.”
“You know about them, too?”
“You kidding me? All us vets know about them. It’s not as if the champions don’t get listed everywhere, with their photos all over the place.”
“So the Greggs were the ones complaining?”
“Them and about a dozen others. It’s like people get off their own farms and forget to bring their brains along. Ooh, look! Elephant ears!”
“I thought you wanted a funnel cake.”
“Doesn’t matter. As long as it has fat and sugar, I’m happy. Right, honey?” This last was to Bryan. “That’s why you and I get along so well. I’ve got all the fat, and you’ve got all the sugar!”
He smiled at her, his eyes glowing, and she let go of my arm to go snuggle under his.
I, on the other hand, had neither fat nor sugar. I suppose I was the gristle. And Nick was the icing. Good enough to lick.
“What are you grinning about?” He walked up beside me.
“I’ll show you later.” I put my arm around his waist and hooked my thumb through his belt loop.
His eyebrows rose. “I like this. The fair makes you frisky.”
“And hungry.”
“Stop!” Carla shrieked.
I spun around, ready to defend her. But she was pulling Bryan along to the homemade ice cream stand. Nick and I watched as she ordered a large waffle cone.
“That woman,” Nick said.
“Yeah. Isn’t she great?”
“Want to get a table?” Bryan asked Carla, when she’d returned with a cone as big as her head.
“No. I want you to win me something.”
He winced. “I’m never any good at those carnival games.”
“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun.”
So the four of us wandered around the games, losing quarters—and dollars, which made me cringe—and marveling at how the international carnies lacked so many teeth. And hygiene skills. And names we could pronounce.
“Hey,” Nick said while we waited for Bryan to shoot ducks with a water pistol. “Isn’t that the Gregg guy again?”
Gregg was still in his suit, walking quickly down the fairway, head swiveling side to side, like he was looking for somebody. I hoped it wasn’t me. I really wasn’t in the mood for a fight.
Nick’s eyes narrowed. “At least he’s not threatening anyone at the moment.”
“Until he finds who he’s looking for.”
Two more men in suits followed Gregg, also searching the lines and stalls. These guys didn’t look like executives. They looked like bodyguards. Or thugs. Not from the same security company who had worked the concert. Their suit coats fit snugly around bulky arms and chests, and what promised to be a gun holster, and the men stood at least a head taller than the regular fair crowd. One of them caught my eye and held my