“Don’t you have a boyfriend for this type of thing?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow.
“He’s not much of a dancer. C’mon.” He grabbed her hand and led her away as others joined in the dancing. Women picked up their skirts, kicking up their feet, as onlookers clapped and tapped to the rhythm.
It seemed everyone had found a partner, except for me and the king of thieves. A man passed us by, carrying a tray of caramel-covered apples. I eyed it, mouth going dry.
Penn reached out. “Would you like one?” he asked.
“What?” My gaze snapped to him.
He waved the man with the tray down.
“No.” I grabbed Penn’s arm. “No, please. I don’t want one.”
Penn continued motioning for the man. “It’s okay, Lilypad, I saw you eyeing it. Just let me get one for you?—”
“No, Penn, I’m serious, I don’t want it!” I said, my voice carrying over the crowd.
Everyone around us went silent, staring.
“That’s a no on the apple,” Penn said to the man with the tray, who’d finally come over to us.
After an uncomfortable minute of me staring at my feet, the chatter around us resumed.
“Wanna tell me what that was about?” Penn asked quietly.
I swallowed the growing lump in my throat. “Not really, but I suppose I owe you an explanation after that outburst.”
A dancing couple bumped into us, then laughed and whirled away.
Penn crossed his arms. “You don’t owe me anything.”
I blew a breath out the side of my mouth. “It’s not a big deal. My stepmother, her specialty was apples. She grew the most beautiful apple trees in Elwen, and everyone raved over them. She loved making applesauce, apple pies, apple tarts, spiced apples.” I frisked my arms. “She and I never got along. I wasn’t particularly nice to her, and I started disliking the fruit after we met. Every time I saw it, it reminded me of her. And now, after everything that’s happened, I just can’t stomach them.”
“Right. Oddly enough, I get that,” Penn said.
Silence fell between us.
“Did you like the puppet show?” I asked, grasping for something to say after that admission. He probably thought I was crazy now.
“I don’t really care about the puppets or the shows... or any of this.” He gestured around to the festival.
“Shocking,” I mumbled.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, I have a lot on my shoulders, Lilypad.”
I crossed my arms. “Oh, yes, I forgot. You’re too busy running your criminal enterprise to be able to enjoy anything else.”
“Exactly.” A stray strand of his blond hair fell over his face, and I had to curl my fist tight to keep from brushing it aside. “Glad you understand me.”
“I don’t understand you, and I have no desire to,” I said.
“Well, that’s too bad. I was just about to ask you to dance.”
That stopped me. “W-what?”
He gestured to the crowd of people twirling and laughing. “I saw you eyeing the dance floor. You like this sort of thing.”
It wasn’t a question, but an observation. And, damn him, he was right.
