“Ethan?” said Carrie. “What’s he talking about?”
“Oh, dear.” The mayor bit his lip in an exaggerated mockery of regret. “Have I said too much? He’s told you about his wife, then, I hope.”
“Fiancée!” But by the look on Carrie’s face, the damage was already done.
The urge to put a fist in the man’s face had never been stronger, but Ethan resisted. One day he’d get his revenge, but not tonight, when the mayor so obviously wanted to create a scene.
Carrie stepped backward, her heels making a clicking sound on the polished dance floor. Ethan held out his hand as the music started up, but she didn’t take it.
“Come on, Carrie,” he said. “I can explain. The man’s a snake. Don’t listen to him.”
“All this time, and you never said.”
“Carrie.”
All the color was gone from her face. Her shoulders curved inward and she clutched her elbows tightly against her sides, a faraway look in her eyes.
“You’re a coward. A liar.”
“Carrie!”
“What else should I think, Ethan? Then again, why would I expect you to be honest with me? We’re not… it’s not like…”
He reached for her but she yanked her hand back.
“Maybe you’re better off hidden away in your castle. Maybe you don’t really want to get involved with… Cherry Lake… after all.”
She turned away and he watched her go, helpless to argue. He hadn’t lied, exactly. He just hadn’t told her everything. He would have. Eventually. When the time was right.
As for him being a coward, well that struck a nerve. He was no coward. What did she want from him? He’d come to this stupid dance, he’d hung out with her, he’d put himself out there, hadn’t he? And for what?
Nothing.
He glanced around the room. He could feel the eyes of a hundred people on him, but none of them would meet his gaze. Calloway’s sly innuendo had poisoned them against him and worse, made monsters of his dogs.
Suddenly before he knew it, he was at the mic.
Tap, tap, tap.
“Good evening.” He looked at the door, where Carrie had paused at the sound of his voice. “I think you all know who I am. Carrie Logan mentioned my dogs, earlier. If you want to make up your own mind about them, I’ll be doing a demonstration at the festival tomorrow. Decide for yourselves.”
Across the crowded room, his eyes met Carrie’s and for a second, he thought he saw a smile. Then she was gone.
Chapter Eighteen
‡
If only he could let his own dogs join the fun, thought Ethan. The vast area of lawn stretched in front of them, dotted with family groups on blankets, some with picnic baskets in front of them, others holding cardboard trays and paper bags of goodies from the food court. Many of the festival goers had their dogs with them, on leash as they perused the stalls, off leash on the green space, barking, running, chasing, wrestling.
But his boys would get their turn.
The festival was a cornucopia of delicious offerings, he’d discovered. Cherry cordial, cherry preserves, cherry pastries, cherry pancakes. Cherry everything, plus the usual festival food.
He only hoped he wouldn’t end up wearing it.
The fact that Carrie was still angry marred the event. He’d explained everything, Vincent, the charges that were dropped, letting go of his company. His broken engagement.
The mistake the relationship had been in the first place.
“I’m not angry,” she told him, yet again.
“Yes you are.”
“I’m disappointed.”
“That’s passive-aggressive for anger. Don’t kid a kidder.”
She handed him a pile of the light-weight PVC piping that he used for jumps. She still insisted on helping him set up for the event. He wasn’t sure if this was meant as punishment or peace offering.
Punishment, most likely.
“Fine,” said Carrie. “The whole time I was freaking out about how much I’d let down my family, you knew exactly what I was dealing with and you said nothing. Forget it. It’s no big deal.”
“Why don’t you just hit me and be done with it?”
With that, she flung a length of plastic pipe at him, narrowing missing his head.