Well Played (Well Met #2)(4)

I opened my mouth to tell Daniel about this, but he’d already turned his attention back to his cousins on the stage. Not for the first time, I contemplated the MacLean DNA. Dex and Daniel were both tall, but that was where the resemblance ended. Dex was dark, solid, and strong-muscled, a man who looked like he was about to rock your world in a dangerous way. Daniel was lean and fair, with bottle-green eyes to go with that red hair, and more of a swimmer’s build than a bodybuilder’s. Daniel looked less like he was about to rock your world and more like he knew exactly how you took your coffee and would bring it to you in bed with a soft smile just for you. While the Kilts played the Faire, Daniel stuck around to man their merchandising booth. It didn’t seem like enough to keep him busy, but maybe Dex and the others required that much supervision.

Daniel was a comfortable, easy presence, but I always felt a little awkward around him, since I was pretty sure he knew all about Dex and me. There’d been that one night this summer when I’d run into Daniel at the hotel ice machine at two in the morning. There’d been no explaining that away.

Sure enough. “You . . . Um.” Daniel cleared his throat, and I glanced over. His eyes were still on the stage, but his mouth twisted as he bit the inside of his cheek. “You know about Dex, right?”

I blinked. “Well, I’m familiar with him.” Very familiar, but he probably wasn’t looking for details.

He shook his head and leaned a shoulder against a tree, hands still shoved in the front pockets of his jeans. “I mean, you know he’s . . .” He sighed and turned those green eyes my way. “You know he’s kind of a player, right?”

“A wench at every Faire?” I raised my eyebrow, and his laugh in response was more of a snort. “I’d heard that.” I sighed a dramatic sigh and looked back at the stage. “Guess I’m not as special as I thought.”

I’d meant that as a joke, but Daniel didn’t respond. I turned my head, expecting a knowing smirk on his face, but instead a flush crept up the back of his neck as he studied the ground. “I didn’t say . . .” He cleared his throat and tried again. “I don’t mean that you . . . I mean, you’re . . .” Finally he sighed in exasperation and looked up at me again. “I don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all.”

Oh. That. I waved an unconcerned hand. “Don’t worry. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.” It was my turn to blush at the words I’d just said. Big girl. My hands went to my waist, nipped in to a ridiculous degree by this corset I wore as part of my costume, as though I could push on my ribs and make myself even smaller. I wasn’t one of those people who hated their body, but sometimes I was very conscious of the fact that I wasn’t model-thin. That was one of the many reasons I loved being at Faire. Here, my voluptuousness was an asset: my chest looked incredible all hiked up like this, and the corset gave me an hourglass figure I could never achieve the rest of the year.

I cast around for something else to talk about. Anything. “So. Off to the next one, right? Are you going to the Maryland Ren Fest? I think just about everyone here hits that one since it starts next weekend.”

He nodded. “Yep. It’s so close by that it’s a no-brainer. And it works out really well. We can try out new material here, where the audiences are smaller, and then hit up the big one next.”

“Sure.” I pressed my lips together. I knew this. I knew that our Faire was stupidly small potatoes compared to the Maryland Renaissance Festival, which was one of the biggest in the country. We weren’t even in the same league. “I bet you’re glad to see the back end of Willow Creek every year.” I looked hard at the stage as rage bubbled in my chest. I loved this Faire. I loved this town. But that didn’t mean that everyone did.

“Not at all.” If Daniel had picked up on my reaction, he didn’t say anything. When I glanced back to him he was looking at the stage too, not at me. “This is one of my favorite stops. Considering I travel about ten months a year, that’s saying something.” He paused, glancing at me quickly before looking back to the stage again. “I like it here.”

And just like that, my lick of defensive anger dissolved, and relief swept through me like a cool breeze. “Yeah. Me too.”

Onstage, the Dueling Kilts finished their set, and Dex lifted his chin in my direction. I’d already raised my hand in a wave when I caught Daniel doing an identical chin-raise in response. Ah. I turned the awkward half-wave into a too-casual check of my hair. Of course. Wench at every Faire. And Dex was done with both me and Willow Creek. On to the next one.

I shook off the sting of disappointment as I turned back to the lane, making my way up front for pub sing. We were down to the last hour or so in this year’s Faire, and I was going to wring every possible moment out of it. Current feelings of frustration aside, these weeks in the woods were so much more fun, so much more interesting, than my real life.

I fiddled with my necklace again, tracing the dragonfly’s wings between my fingers. Change, huh? Good luck with that, dragonfly. I’d lived in Willow Creek my whole life. Nothing changed around here.

I should have known better.

Dragonflies don’t mess around.





Two




Ren Faire season was my favorite time of year. From tryouts in the late spring when we put the full cast of volunteers together, to weekend rehearsals spent learning songs and dances, enduring crash courses in history and etiquette, and practicing our accents, to finally the four weekends spent out in the woods at the Faire site through July and August, fully inhabiting our characters, Ren Faire season made me feel more alive. More vital. It was a life lived in full color, with music and laughter and oppressive summer heat and tight costumes.