Hot Mess (LBSC #1) | Completed

Chapter 22

I held Javi's hand tighter as we navigated through the throng of people cluttering the lawn of Charles Park. Many people had blankets stretched before the brightly-lit stage, while a number of others had set up camp chairs under the old oak trees. The current performer was a Willie Nelson knockoff complete with white ponytails and a jangly guitar.

"You know, I've always seen this festival advertised but I've never actually attended it," I said.

Javi stopped a couple yards short of the stage and dropped the scratchy, plaid blanket that he'd brought with us. He set the picnic basket down with a gentler touch. "This is the perfect spot."

While Javi knelt and stretched the blanket, I looked skeptically at the stage. We were slightly off to the side but still well within view of Knockoff Willie.

"Are you sure you want to sit here?" I asked. "The performers are totally going to be able to tell when we're talking about them."

"So let's not," Javi said as he settled into a comfortable position on the blanket. He patted the spot beside him.

The simple declarations that he made drove me kind of batty...but they were also one of the things I really liked about him. He was straightforward and didn't use any flowery language to sugarcoat anything.

With a sigh, I dropped beside him and folded my legs under me. "I hope all the music's not like this."

"Do you complain about everything?"

"Not everything; just most things." I smiled and tucked a wayward curl behind my ear. "What's in the basket?"

"I don't know if I should share anything with you. It might spark a new set of complaints," Javi remarked, the corner of his mouth turning up. "But, I definitely know I have at least one thing you'll like." Turning his back to me, Javi rummaged in the basket.

"Close your eyes and hold out your hands," he said before turning around.

Ever the obedient one, I did as he said and waited patiently. A fairly light-weight paper bag rested in my palms. I would know that sound anywhere. My eyes flew open.

"Pastries!"

"Not just any pastries." Javi grinned. "Open the bag."

"Three chocolate raspberry eclairs. You have officially won your way to my heart through my stomach." Carefully, I took one of the eclairs out of the bag and handed it to him before selecting one of my own. "We should toast."

Javi raised an eyebrow. "With eclairs?"

"Why not?"

"Because we've got perfectly good wine hidden in a thermos in the basket."

I held up my eclair. "Humor me."

Javi stared at me incredulously a few seconds more before giving in and holding up his pastry.

"To a great night with even better company," I said.

We locked eyes. I felt the breath leave my body and my bones start to turn to jelly.

"Salud," Javi said, his eyes still on mine.

"That too." I took a bite of my eclair and grinned at him.

Knockoff Willie finished his set to a smattering of half-hearted applause, packed up his guitar and harmonica doohickey, and left the stage. A young guy with oily shoulder-length hair (I could see its glinting sheen from my seat), a pencil-thin mustache, and a microphone took Knockoff Willie's place onstage.