“I don’t know. Ride the Ferris wheel, eat foot-long corn dogs, and go into that fun-house thing with all the mirrors?” Spencer stroked the beard that upon closer inspection looked like it could be coming loose by the left sideburn.

“I don’t do those sorts of things,” she said, sounding quite priggish, which made her want to reach out and snatch the words back.

“Oh, you don’t? Well, what shall we do? Pour a spot of tea? Or perhaps take in The Portrait of a Lady? Henry James proper enough for you?” He tempered his censure with a smile that warmed the cockles of her heart, whatever those were. “Come on. You know you like corn dogs. Everyone does. They’re delicious. And when’s the last time you rode a carnival ride?”

A vision of her and Marley riding something that looked like a spider, the carts on the legs whirling as the machine dipped and twisted, flashed in her mind. Marley had loved to ride, begging for one more time even if the line was too long. The memory of her golden hair whipping into her face, gummed up by cotton candy, the sheer joy shining in her eyes, made Olivia’s stomach clench with tenderness and regret. The last time she’d ridden a carnival ride had been with her sister at the end of the Santa Monica Pier many years ago. “I guess I’m stuck with you.”

“That’s not the usual reaction ladies give when I ask them to take a ride with me.” Spencer grinned and wiggled his eyebrows, which looked to be his own, as they were not as dark as the false beard.

He seemed amused by her response to his charm. Spencer likely didn’t get told no much at all, and damned if she was going to buck that tradition by continuing the prudish protest when corn dogs and Spencer Rome were part of the deal. “I’m sure it’s not. You seem to have them hopping after you. Okay, sure. Let’s go, but first I need to buy some tickets.”

“I’ll get you a wristband. That way you can ride everything. Be right back.” He jogged away before she could tell him she only wanted to go on a few rides. Maybe the Ferris wheel because, though it looked high, it moved slowly. No way she was getting on anything that spun. Vomiting on the Hammer wasn’t going to be her most embarrassing story for the rest of her life.

Before she could blink, he was back. “I talked her into letting me put this on you, promising that I would put it on tight enough that you can’t cheat and give it to someone else. Let me see your wrist. She could be watching.”