Sugar Creek by Toni Blake Page A

have any fun with you.”
    “Too late, Farris. I think you already like me. A little anyway.”
    She didn’t deny it, but she did cast him a sideways glance. “I’m just waiting to see what you do to ruin it.”
     
    When the game was over and most of the crowd had gone, Rachel wondered aloud, “How do they get the donkeys out? Through the lobby?”
    Mike looked amused as he started putting away the un-bought chips and pretzels. “Nope, they herd ’em through the back, by the locker rooms.”
    “Oh,” she said on a sigh.
    He glanced over. “Am I crazy, Farris, or do you actually sound disappointed?”
    “Not really. They stink. But I’ve never been to a donkey ball game, and here I am at one, without even seeing a donkey.”
    He blinked. “You grew up here and never saw a donkey ball game?”
    “Wasn’t my thing,” she explained.
    And then, to her utter surprise, he took her hand and said, “Come on.” After which he led her out into the hall, through the lobby, and into the gym.
    “There you go,” he said. They arrived just as the very last donkey was being led toward the back door on a lead line. And Rachel smiled. She wasn’t sure why. At the absurdity of it all? Or because Mike Romo had just indulged her sudden urge to see a donkey? Or…because he was still holding her hand and it was making her thighs feel achy and sexy.
    “He’s bigger than I expected,” she mused about the donkey. Then noted that the protective surface had already been rolled up in large sections and was being hauled out as well. The floor looked good as new. “That fake floor makes for easy cleanup.”
    “Speaking of which, we’d better get to ours.”
    She nodded, and only then did he finally let go of her hand. And now, damn it, that was tingly, too. All the way up her arm. Sheesh. What kind of crazy lust was this?
    As they passed back through the now empty lobby, Rachel noticed that Elmer must have come along and locked down the metal partition while they were gone, closing the concession stand window. They stepped inside—leaving the door open, of course—and Mike counted the money while Rachel started cleaning. It wasn’t a lot, just some soft drink drips on the counter and floor. By the time she finished, thinking the place looked as tidy as when they’d arrived, Mike had a total. A moment later, the money was in the bag, and she zipped it shut as Mike stooped to unplug the calculator—giving her a nice, even if too brief, view of his butt.
    After placing the calculator back where she’d found it, Rachel announced, “All right, guess we’re done,” then walked to the entrance and shut the door to retrieve her pashmina from the hook on the back. She wrapped it around her shoulders, picked up her purse—and turned to see Mike slap his hand against his forehead, looking at her like she was an imbecile.
    “What?” she said, confused.
    “You just shut the fucking door, Farris.”
    She gasped slightly as his words shot through her. “Oh. Shit.”
    “Shit is right.” This was a lot different than earlier—the window was locked and the place had emptied.
    She widened her eyes on him, beginning to feel a little panicky. “Do you think anyone’s still out there?”
    In response, he joined her at the door and they both began beating on it and yelling. “Hey! Hey, we’re locked in here!” Rachel screamed.
    “Anybody out there?” Mike called.
    “Help! Get us out of here!”
    “Elmer? Dude, if you’re still here, come let us out!”
    After a minute, they stopped, quieted, and listened. To nothing. Not a sound. They were locked in the concession stand and no one was outside to hear them. On the rare occasion Rachel had actually rushed off without her Blackberry, too.
    She dared to glance up at Mike, who stood right next to her—glaring down. He looked ready to kill her. “Why the hell did you shut that door?”
    She bit her lip. “I wasn’t thinking. I just needed to get my pashmina from behind it. It