Two of a Kind (Fool's Gold #11)

He didn’t know where to look first. Her boobs or her butt. She had on a clingy workout tank, and pants that came to just below her knees. His body turned to fire and he was terrified he was going to be unable to control himself.


Reese mumbled something under his breath. Carter glanced at his friend and saw Reese looked as stunned as he felt.

The woman put her hands on her hips and shook her head. “I’m way too old,” she told them flatly. “Don’t even think about it.”

“You could wait for me,” Carter said before he could stop himself. “I’ll be eighteen in two years.”

Reese snorted. “You mean five years.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re thirteen. She’s not going to believe you’re sixteen. She’s hot, not stupid.”

Carter jabbed Reese in the stomach and walked toward the goddess.

“Hi. I’m Carter.” He hoped she would shake hands with him, like Angel did, but she only smiled.

“Consuelo. I’m going to be your teacher.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. By the end of the hour, you’ll be hating me.”

“Not possible.”

He was having trouble breathing. Being this close to her was torture. He wanted her. He wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted her for, but he needed to claim her, to tell the world that she belonged to him.

“Give me your hand,” she told him.

He held it out and braced himself for the sweetness of her touch. She took his hand in hers. Her skin was cool, her fingers—

Everything spun as he found himself jerked up and over. The ground came up fast and hit him hard on the back.

“Wicked,” Reese breathed. “Can you teach me how to do that?”

“You’re both going to learn how to do that and other things, as well,” Consuelo said, helping Carter to his feet.

“You flipped me,” he said, unable to believe what she’d done, despite his battered body.

“Yup.”

Her skills only made her more amazing, he thought.

Consuelo sighed. “You’re going to be stubborn about this, aren’t you?”

If that meant he would love her forever, then the answer was yes.

* * *

GIDEON STOOD IN the middle of the street, across from Brew-haha, and wondered how the hell he was going to get through the day. The annual book fair had turned much of the city into a giant bookstore with signings, readings and booths everywhere. Because Felicia was in charge of the festivals, she was working from dawn until eight or nine at night. Today was Saturday, which meant no camp, no classes, no way to keep Carter busy. Worse, tomorrow was Sunday. Gideon had two days with his kid and no idea what he was supposed to do to fill the time.

“You want to walk around?” Gideon asked.

“Sure.”

“You read much?”

“Some.”

Gideon wandered past a booth with a display of books on how to make furniture out of twigs. Next to that, a lady was demonstrating various quilting techniques. The day stretched out in endless minutes to be filled.

“There was a festival when I showed up, too,” Carter said. “Does the town have them a lot?”

“Every couple of weeks in the summer. A little less the rest of the year, but at least once a month. Tourists are a big part of the economy. The festivals bring them in.”

Carter looked around, then frowned. “I don’t get it. Felicia runs this?”

“She organizes the events.” He pointed to the list of signings and arrows pointing to the different venues. “She says where all the booths go and makes sure there are plenty of bathrooms. All the advertising runs through her, along with the permits. The Fourth of July Festival was her first one. She just started the job.”

Carter’s eyes widened. “She’s good,” he said. “I can’t believe she’s the boss of all these people.”

“She’s made some changes.” Despite his apprehension at being with his son, he grinned. “There was some pushback last time, but she won everyone over to her way of thinking. Now they’re all excited about the new setup. Want a lemonade?”

“Sure.”

They walked over to the booth and Gideon ordered for them. People moved all around them. Families, couples. There were strollers and toddlers and teenagers. He’d never paid much attention to the ages of all the children before. Not that he spent a lot of time at the festivals. He preferred to stay in the background. Like narrating the Dance of the Winter King last Christmas. That was more his speed. But he’d always liked kids from a distance at least. Thought they deserved a fair shot—a chance to be special. But that was an idea born of generic concepts. He’d never thought he would be dealing with his own kid.

“How long have you lived in town?” Carter asked.

“About a year.”

“Before that?”

“Here and there.”

Carter sucked on his straw. “You don’t want to talk about it.”

No, he didn’t. But what he wanted didn’t seem to be an option. “When I got out of the military, I had some healing to do. That took a while.”