“Why are you dressed like you’re about to skin a raccoon in preparation to winter on the mountain?” she asked, untying the apron she’d been wearing for the last four hours. Her feet hurt, her stomach growled, and she still hadn’t checked on Chase to make sure she was doing okay selling tickets. Neve had gone to a few local salons to put in applications and talk to the owners, so Olivia hadn’t had anyone to relieve her. Finally, someone else arrived to work the evening shift. Chase planned to stay a few hours since she had to work the dunking booth the next day. Olivia should invest some time in enjoying the community festival, spending a little money, and being a good neighbor, but she truly longed for a hot cup of tea and some time working on the outline for her book, but that likely wasn’t going to happen.

“I’m practicing in order to play the villain for a movie I’ll be filming in a couple of weeks. Do I look like an outlaw meth dealer?” Spencer asked, his grin through that ridiculous beard dashing any hope of looking the least bit villainous.

“Well, you don’t look quite as shiny as you normally do,” Olivia conceded, passing the apron to one of the ladies running a fish-and-chips food truck called Great Scot.

“Excellent. And what do you mean by shiny?”

Walked into that one.

“Um, you know, pretty. You’re a pretty boy with a shiny smile and other, um, attractive qualities.” Jesus, she sounded like a fangirl.

His smile this time wasn’t shiny. No, the way his lips curved was soft . . . and knowing . . . and she may have focused for way too long on his lips, which the man seemed to notice. “So you feel like squiring me around the festival since Chase is occupied? I don’t know anyone else here, and if I walk around by myself dressed like this, someone is bound to call the police. Help a guy out.”

Did she want to go with Spencer? Of course, her libido—that part of herself she ignored all too often—clamored for a little alone time with the übersexy superhero, but the common sense she stored front and center flashed out a warning that sounded like the old Lost in Space robot. Danger, Danger!

Of course, all these weird thoughts were moot because she didn’t have a fighting chance of anything even slightly romantic happening between her and the Hammer himself. Still, if there was an itty-bitty chance of doing something more than merely wandering around with him, she could end up like a starving man standing in front of a steaming plate of prime rib. Something more with Spencer could satisfy her hunger, but it might also be mortifying and messy—two things she abhorred in life.

“You want me to escort you? To do what, exactly?”