Midnight Wolf (Shifters Unbound #11)(54)

The man gave her a faint smile. “Not for sale, sweetheart. You have to win it.” He gestured to the floor, which held a jumble of glass bottles of various shapes and sizes. He dropped three rings on the counter in front of her. “Three rings for five dollars. Fifteen rings for twenty.”

Tamsin dug into her pocket and slapped down a twenty-dollar bill. Ciaran stepped up to her excitedly. “What are you going to do?”

“Win my hat. How many do I need to get?” she asked the man.

“Eight.”

“Fair enough.” Tamsin took up the rings in her left hand and eyed the rows of empty glass bottles—tall ones, short ones, long skinny ones, squat ones with thick necks.

Tamsin’s first toss went astray, but her next one ringed a bottle. Ciaran cheered. Tamsin narrowed her eyes, tilting her head. Angus could see the fox in her when she did that, imagined her in animal form, sizing up whatever trouble she planned to get into.

Tamsin tossed the next ring, and the next and the next in rapid succession. Each one found a bottle’s neck, caught it, and spun down it with a ringing note. Tamsin missed one or two, but she reached eight with a couple of rings to spare. Ciaran danced around in a circle, chanting, “Go, Tamsin, go!”

The booth tender watched, openmouthed, as she had success after success, then closed his lips, an angry glint in his eyes. Tamsin tossed her last ring and turned to him with a broad smile.

“My hat, please.”

The man sighed, plucked it from the display, and handed it to her. Tamsin brushed it off and set it on her head.

The hat was oversized, and the top bent askew, but somehow it looked exactly right on her.

“Sweet,” Ciaran cried. “Win me one, Tamsin.”

Tamsin eyed the row of ridiculous hats and slapped another twenty on the table.

She ended up winning a Mad Hatter–looking hat for Ciaran and a baseball cap for Angus. Angus tried to refuse it, but Tamsin sidestepped his protesting hands and jammed the hat with a Texas Rangers logo on his head. “There. Now you look normal. Well, mostly.”

Angus adjusted the cap with a grunt of irritation, trying not to like how Tamsin had swarmed up him. Her warmth lingered, and her breath tingled his cheek even after she’d turned away again.

Tamsin’s wins had drawn a crowd. The booth operator looked less annoyed as more and more people stepped up to buy rings for a chance to win. Tamsin had made it look easy.

The man slipped out from behind the booth when they turned to go. “Hey, come back later and play some more,” he said to Tamsin. “You’re good for business. I’ll even give you a cut.”

Tamsin paused, lips pursed. “I’ll think about it. I might need a job.”

The man nodded, hurrying back into his booth to soothe the impatient kids and adults waiting their turns.

Tamsin held Ciaran’s hand as they strolled away, Ciaran reaching up to touch his new hat every once in a while.

The fairgrounds were filling up with people looking for entertainment after church on a Sunday, and Angus glanced around uneasily.

“I think it’s about time to go,” he said.

“Why?” Tamsin peered up at him from the shadow of her absurd hat. “This is a perfect place to hide out. I don’t think Haider or Dylan would expect to find us here.”

She had a point, but Angus preferred hiding places deep in the woods, in shadows, where his black wolf would be almost invisible.

This field was wide-open, crammed with lights, music, food, people, bright colors, and confusing sounds. Impossible to guard all approaches.

On the other hand, they did more or less blend in with all the other moms and dads taking their kids to the carnival. Even Tamsin’s and Ciaran’s gaudy headgear didn’t look odd, as plenty of people walked around with weird things on their heads—balloon rings, plastic crowns, antennae on springs.

“We can lie low here for a while,” Tamsin went on. “Celene says they’re always looking for people to help out. Dante and Celene own the carnival together, but they only have a few rides and games of their own—the rest are independent contractors. But everyone needs help loading and unloading, running the rides, or taking tickets, plus they have sideshows. We could be a sideshow act—I could run around as my fox, jumping through rings or something, and you could pretend you’d trained me. Then I’d do whatever I wanted no matter what you said—you know, make it a comedy.”

Angus listened in growing irritation. “That wouldn’t be a show—it’s your real life. In any case, you’re not revealing your fox to an audience. Word of the smart-ass fox at the carnival would get around.”

Tamsin frowned. “You’re right. How disappointing.” She brightened. “But don’t worry. I’ll think of something else.”

“I’m going to see if I can trade Dimitri’s truck cab for someone else’s,” Angus said as she stared off into the distance, no doubt coming up with another alarming idea. “One less conspicuous. I’ll send Dimitri the money for it.”

“No rush.” Tamsin moved closer to him as another surge of people pushed past. “I haven’t felt this safe in a while. Or had as much fun.” She glanced at the midway, as giant arms of rides began to rise into the air, lights flashing as they swung and spun. “Which one do you want to go on, Ciaran?”