“Can I stand next to Bee so people think I won all those for her?” Ryan asked, making us laugh.

“No need to feel emasculated,” I reminded him as Bee handed yet another one of her prizes to a passing kid. “You did win the basketball thingie.”

“Only because you let me,” he reminded me, and I shrugged.

“What can I say, I’m a good friend.”

Ryan stopped, turning to face me. The lights overhead brought out the red in his hair, and once again, I was forced to acknowledge that he was handsome. Maybe he didn’t make my stomach flutter anymore, but there was something nice about feeling this way about him now. Like I actually saw him for the person he was—loyal, stubborn, easygoing—and not the trophy he used to be for me.

“You are a good friend, Harper,” he said. “And I kind of like being your friend.”

“Same,” I told him, smiling.

Over his shoulder, I caught Bee watching us with an expression I couldn’t read. Probably thinking more Parent Trap thoughts, I decided, and went over to take more of the fluffy animals from her hands.

“Stop,” I told her in a low voice, joking, but she gave me a sort of wan smile in return, handing her last prize, a bright green stuffed frog, to a little boy in an Auburn Tigers T-shirt.

Once we were out of prizes to hand out, we made our way to the food trucks. “Did all that winning work up a hunger for something super caloric?” Bee asked, tugging at the hem of her light pink blouse.

Look, I’d love to tell you I was totally disgusted by the fried food on display, but A) some of those trucks were raising money for various charities and schools, and B) deep-fried Oreos were sent from heaven to prove God loves us.

“Yes, please,” I told Bee. “Preferably something covered in powdered sugar.”

She laughed at that again, and started tugging me toward the cotton candy machine. As we made our way down the midway, I bumped into someone, and I turned, an apology already on my lips.

The man I’d bumped was wearing stained jeans and a Lynyrd Skynyrd T-shirt, so nothing unusual for the fair, but there was something about the way his eyes focused on mine that had the words dying on my lips.

“Paladin,” he said with a little nod, and a jolt went through me. It wasn’t the feeling I got when David was in trouble; this was just normal fear, slithering through me, making food the last thing on my mind.

The crowd swallowed the man, but I stood still, making Bee turn to look at me with a little frown. “Harper?”

“Something’s wrong,” I told her. “It’s... I think it’s a trial.”

Chapter 22

Chapter 22

BEE REACHED OUT, squeezing my hand. “I’ll come with,” she said, “whatever it is.”