Chapter 6

SIX

BOOTS . Some guys liked a woman in heels, but for Briggs, it was always boots. He tipped his Stetson back a bit to appreciate the way Lahela looked in them. Jeans tucked in, a light pink sweater that highlighted her skin tone, dark hair twisted in a braid with a flower over her left ear. I owe Daphne big time .

“Daphne said something came up and asked if I’d pick you up for the festival.” Why was his throat so dry? He swallowed, eyes moving for a second to her neighbor before finding her again. “I hope that’s all right?”

“Yes, sure. Daphne just called.” She turned to her neighbor. “I hope you enjoy those.”

“I’m sure I’ll have these polished off by noon.” He looked over at Briggs, and his features shifted from friendly to something guarded ... or maybe protective? Fatherly? He remembered what Lahela had said about her neighbors always looking out for her. It was the only reason he’d felt comfortable heading home last night after circling her neighborhood a few times just to make sure there was no one lurking about. “Good to see you again.”

“You too, sir.” Briggs looked at Lahela. “You ready? I don’t want you to miss the great flamingo release.”

“I can’t wait.” Lahela smiled, and unlike last night, it lit up her face, and he was glad to see it return. “Let me grab my purse.”

Briggs was struck again by her beauty when she reappeared on her porch. She locked her door and then turned, catching him watching her. “You look really pretty today.”

She smiled and surprised him when she grabbed his hand and tugged him toward his truck. “Let’s go, Briggs. The flamingos are waiting.”

In his years as a police officer, he had busted several drug rings, been involved in multiple car chases, and had a whole host of dangerous assignments, but winning Lahela’s heart seemed by far the most challenging.

Today he intended to bust the barriers of the friend zone.

It took ten minutes to drive to downtown Miracle Springs and another ten to follow the line of traffic to the open fields near the Brazos River. He jumped out of his truck and rounded it to get the door for Lahela, which earned him a shy smile.

Last night hadn’t gone how he hoped, but he woke up this morning with a new hope. Give Lahela the best day and gather the courage to put his heart on the line. And possibly their friendship.

“This is the craziest thing I’ve ever seen.” Lahela accepted his hand as he helped her out of his truck. “There’s so much ... pink.”

The touch of her hand in his didn’t last more than a few seconds, but man, he liked the feel of her skin against his. Her fingers were soft and smooth, such a contrast to his calloused ones.

Around them citizens of Miracle Springs and plenty of tourists from the Central Texas area were wearing pink shirts, pink boas, and hats that looked like flamingos sitting on their heads. A few dedicated fans were lounging along the banks of the river in those giant, inflatable pool flamingos.

“There’s even a carnival?” Lahela clapped her hands. “I had no idea it was going to be this big.”

“You know what they say about Texas.” Briggs walked her through the park where local craft vendors, game booths, food trailers selling fried everything, and carnival rides had been set up. “So you know the story then?”

“Only what I’ve looked up on the internet,” Lahela said as they weaved through the crowd. The cloudless sky, moderate temps, and yearly anticipation felt like it had lured the entire city here. “A flamingo named Pink Floyd escaped a zoo in Denver and flew to Texas where he’s regularly spotted in Galveston or here in Miracle Springs.”

“One time.” Briggs joined a line near the suspension bridge crossing the Brazos. “Pink Floyd was spotted here, confirmed by his tag, but no other sighting has ever been validated by wildlife experts. I’m pretty sure he sticks to the Texas beaches, but it doesn’t stop people here claiming they see him from time to time. Our last mayor was looking for a way to ramp up tourism and decided to lean into all the false sightings and create this.”

Lahela watched as a group of college-aged kids wearing flamingo sunglasses, two of the males shirtless and painted pink, left the line and headed to the river. She smiled widely at Briggs. “I love it!”

He stepped up to the table and paid for two rubber pink flamingos. “Now let’s go dress up our flamingos.”

“What?”

“Pink Floyd’s festival has grown.” He gestured to the crowd. “But more than the traffic headaches it brings in is the money donated to support various local charities.” He walked her to another table filled with tiny hats, sunglasses, and clothes. “This year it’s for children’s literacy.”

“Our school librarian, Mrs. Bell, mentioned that, in between laughing at me for thinking this was a concert for the band.”

Briggs covered his own laugh after she narrowed her eyes at him, but the playfulness dancing in them thrilled him. “Okay, now what do you want your flamingo to wear so you can spot him in the river?”

“Her.” Lahela picked up a tiny crown of daisies. “My flamingo’s a girl and I think I’ll name her Daisy.”

Briggs selected a cowboy hat and paid the girl behind the table. Another girl took their flamingos to another table to attach the accessories with super glue. Lahela watched, her expression bright and full of the life he’d watched drain from it last night. He’d be lying if he said a part of him wasn’t dying to bring up the calls and texts, but Daphne made him promise not to discuss it unless Lahela did first. He wanted to respect Lahela’s boundaries and would, of course, but he couldn’t just turn off the instinct or experience he carried with him from his time as a police officer. And it didn’t prevent him from subtly scanning the area for anything suspicious.

“Oh, they’re so cute!” Lahela accepted her flamingo, Daisy, and his cowboy flamingo, holding them up for him to see. “Do we have time to take a photo of them before the release?”

“If we hurry.” The speakers overhead were already encouraging everyone to deliver their flamingos to the race line, which was a quarter mile up the river.

They found a grassy spot near some trees, and Lahela set their flamingos on the ground and started to pull out her cell phone before hesitating. Not long, maybe a fraction of a second, but enough that it pushed his gaze to the subtle worry in her eyes. That instinct to talk to her about the calls returned, but it was interrupted when Lahela took hold of his hand.

She handed him his cowboy flamingo and then squeezed in next to him, positioning them so the river was behind them. “Say ‘Pink Floyd.’”

He obeyed and smiled at the camera, his eyes captivated by the image of them together. This . This was what he was wanting—hoping for. So what am I waiting for?

It wasn’t that he’d had a bad experience with women he dated before. All of them were sweet, kind, and fun. But none made him see a future with them. Lahela ... she was different. It was the potential hurt that worried him. Not his, though he’d be crushed if it didn’t work out, but it was the pain he’d witnessed in Lahela when her ex broke her heart. He wouldn’t do that to her.

“There’s no way we’re going to be able to track our flamingos.” Lahela’s laugh pulled his attention to a giant net where thousands of small, rubber flamingos were hanging over the river. “How will we know if we win?”

“Just like Pink Floyd, our flamingos are tagged.” He showed her the number on the bottom of their flamingos.

“Cool. Well, Daisy, it’s been nice knowing you.” She lifted his cowboy flamingo and looked it in the wide, rubber eyes. “You take good care of her, Cowboy.”

Lahela’s words to a toy flamingo somehow claimed a space in his chest. “You take good care of her, Cowboy.” It was a charge he was going to take personally, whether he won Lahela’s heart or not.