Part 19

Author's Note: Three more chapters are remaining until the end.

Tawan knew they shouldn't be near the Kalasin Rice Ear Castle Festival. It was a security nightmare—crowds of strangers, everywhere from festival stalls to temple grounds packed with people and too many dark corners.

She should have put her foot down when her father asked them to run the Saengthong Cider booth for a few hours. They'd poked the hornet's nest by baiting Ira's stalker, and now they had no idea how he'd react. The festival was one of the most popular events of the year—right up there with the rice harvest rituals, the shadow puppet theatre, and, of course, the talent show. Ira wouldn't just be exposed. She'd be the centre of attention.

The smart move would have been to lay low. That was the plan. But then Ira had smiled at her. She'd been so excited to help run the booth, practically bouncing on her toes, and then—she'd looked at Tawan for approval. And Tawan, stupidly, had hesitated. She'd watched the light die in Ira's amber eyes.

Her chest had ached at the sight.

So, against every rational thought in her brain, the words "Yeah, sure" had come out of her mouth before she could stop them. Now here they were, operating the damn booth, while a never-ending line of festival-goers—some familiar, most not—spent way too much time with her protectee.

The Saengthong Cider booth was set up along the main festival path, leading toward the Rice Ear Castle, where classical Thai dance performances were held. The square surrounding it was filled with local food stalls, silk weaving demonstrations, and temple blessing ceremonies. The watchtower bell still chimed on the hour, marking the festival's schedule.

Which meant constant visibility.

Which meant a security nightmare.

Ira, of course, was thriving. She greeted everyone like a long-lost friend, wielding that effortless charm like a weapon. It disarmed everyone in her orbit—including Tawan.

"What'll it be, boys? Mango or Apple or Coconut?" Ira beamed at the three teenage boys in front of them.

One of the teenage boys wiggled his eyebrows. "Mango. Definitely."

Tawan snorted. "She's out of your league, Nong."

"Not for long." The kid flexed his arms. "I turn eighteen next month."

Tawan handed him a cup. "Move along."

Ira winked at him as she took his money. "Ignore her."

Tawan's amusement died when she saw Ratchanee approaching with a determined look on her face.

She sighed. Not this again.

Ratchanee looked the part of a queen in her crisp white coat, designer boots, and carefully styled hair. But the days when she could get anything she wanted from Tawan by batting her eyes and fake smile were long gone.

Tawan shook her head as Ratchanee bypassed the entire line and walked straight toward them.

"No," Tawan said flatly the moment she was close enough to hear.

Ratchanee blinked at her in mock innocence. "No?"

"That's right. No." Tawan set a cup of iced coconut cider down with more force than necessary, sticky liquid sloshing over the edges. "No, I don't want to hear you out. No to whatever scheme you came to push. No to anything that isn't a damn cup of cider. And if that's what you want, the end of the line is back there." She jabbed a thumb toward the end of the line.

Ratchanee smiled sweetly and pulled out a hundred-baht bill. She turned to the young mother behind her, pressing it into her hand. "Here, it's on me if I can take your spot for just a minute."

The woman glanced between them, then shrugged. "Sure."

Ira eyed Ratchanee like she was a particularly persistent cockroach. "Ratchanee. What a surprise. Apple or Mango or Coconut?"

Ratchanee barely spared her a glance. "I just need to borrow Tawan for a second."

"I wasn't aware I had the power to lend her out," Ira mused, turning to Tawan. "You really should tell me these things. I could be making a fortune."

Tawan ground her teeth. Ratchanee wasn't leaving until she got what she wanted, and Ira wasn't backing down.

The two together?

This was going to get messy.

Ratchanee's polite smile cracked just a little. "Tawan. Please. Can I have a quick word?"

Tawan drained the last of the mango cider into a waiting cup. "This one's empty, Ira. If you can hold the line for a few, I'll ping Dad for a fresh one."

"Oh, I can handle a line." Ira's expression turned teasingly coy. "Can you handle the ice queen?"

Tawan shot her a look of warning before turning to Ratchanee. "I got this."

Ira winked at Ratchanee. "Just remember to return her in the same condition you found her."

"Right." Ratchanee's cheeks turned a delicate pink, but the ice in her eyes didn't thaw. "I like your outfit, by the way. The messy festival vendor isn't a look I can pull off, but you make it look...natural."

Ira's smile didn't even twitch. "Oh, I can see Prissy Hi-So Princess is much more your style." She leaned around Ratchanee and called out, "Next!"

Someone nearby snickered. Ratchanee's flush deepened.

Tawan carried the empty container to the waiting cart at the back of the booth. It was wrong how much she'd enjoyed that. "Make it quick."

Ratchanee cleared her throat, her tone smoothing into practised charm. "Of course. I know you're busy. I just wanted to stop by to give you this." She opened her designer handbag and pulled out a folded gold-embossed envelope. "I realised I've never made you an actual offer, so you don't know what you're saying no to. This should give you a clearer picture of my seriousness."

Tawan flipped it open. The number inside nearly made her snort.

Ratchanee's confidence radiated off her in waves. She was so sure that money was all it would take. She probably had a contract ready to go in that handbag: a gold pen and a stamp.

"That much?" Tawan asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes." Ratchanee stepped closer, her eyes big and sincere. "That much. Think about what you could do with it. You have a new business. Businesses need cash flow. I can give you that."

The old Ratchanee would have moved mountains with those eyes. Not anymore. Tawan knew what made her tick—control and image. Tawan's lips twitched. "Are you under the impression that I'm broke? Or do you think I'm an easy target?"

Ratchanee hesitated for half a second before recomposing herself. "My offer is more than fair. That's how much that house...and our shared history...means to me."

Tawan crossed her arms. "Funny. I got the impression neither one meant anything to you when I left." Her voice dropped. "You couldn't even be bothered to pick up the phone."

"That's not true. You know it's not true." Ratchanee's expression tightened. "I was..."

"It didn't take you long to move on, though, did it? What was it—six months? Eight?" Tawan tilted her head. "Happened so fast, I figured he was the backup plan, in case I wound up with a life you didn't think you wanted. That was a smart call on your part. I doubt you ever pictured yourself married to a girl."

Ratchanee's lips parted, but the words seemed to die in her throat. She closed her eyes for a second, then let out a soft, carefully measured breath. Her eyes shone with carefully crafted sincerity when she looked up at her again.

"I should have called. I should have done...a lot of things." She gave a little self-deprecating laugh, a tiny jiggle of her shoulders.

Tawan saw right through it.

Is she actually hitting on me?

No.

This was Ratchanee at her finest—a sales pitch.

Tawan leaned against the cart. "You know, I think you did exactly the right thing. I admit, at the time, I was pissed, but I'm over it."

"That's not fair, Tawan." There it was—the snappy, imperious tone she remembered. "I was young and stupid and didn't know what to do. You know my family. You know the pressure I was under to live up to their expectations. It was impossible."

She stepped closer, her perfume subtle but expensive. "I loved you and your mother. Your house was more of a home to me than my own. You know that."

Tawan's jaw clenched. "Yeah. Mae was good at that."

Silence stretched between them. Ratchanee's eyes flicked to Ira as she worked for the festival crowd. "Did you know you've been here a month? The whole town's talking about it. They think you're settling down with that pretty city girl you brought home."

She turned back, her voice dripping with calculated sympathy. "But I don't buy that."

Tawan narrowed her eyes. "Oh? And why is that?"

Ratchanee's smile sharpened. "Because I've seen how you look at her."

"How's that?"

"Like she's a project or a chore." Ratchanee lifted her chin, stepping fully into Tawan's space. "She's a city girl, and you're trying to make her stay."

The notecard crumpled in Tawan's grip as her fingers tightened around it. Ratchanee's eyes sparked. "I've seen her type. It won't be long before she's bored out of her mind and running back to the life she wants. Are you going to chase after her, or are you going to dive back into that business you say you're building? What was it...protection? Watching someone else live their life instead of living your own? Either way, I think your mother's house deserves better than being the place where you bury bad memories."

She'd hit too close to the truth. Not the why of it, but the what.

Kalasin was just a pit stop in Ira Suwannathat's life.

It was why nothing should or could happen between them. None of this was real.

And the fact that Ratchanee, of all people, could see that so clearly? It pissed her off.

Tawan wasn't keeping her fantasy girlfriend. Ira wasn't holding her pretend girlfriend. And Ratchanee sure as hell wasn't getting her house.

At least life sucked all the way around.

Tawan tossed the crumpled card into the trash. "No means no, Ratchanee."

"Are you sure?" The crafty glint in Ratchanee's eyes made Tawan wonder how she'd ever loved her. She blamed it on teenage stupidity and the first time being out. "I'm willing to negotiate. That offer can go higher."

Tawan leaned in close and kept her voice low and firm. "Let me make this very, very clear. I'm keeping my mother's house. It's my home. Mine. It doesn't matter how much money you have or what you offer. When I'm dead and burned to ashes, you still won't be able to buy it. Get that? I'm never selling my home to you. Not now. Not ever."

She exhaled sharply, realising as she said it that it was all true. Staying in that house with Ira had taken the sting out of the memories that had kept her away for so long. It didn't hurt to walk through the front door anymore. And something told her her mother would like that.

A flush crept up Ratchanee's cheeks. "You don't have to be so mean. I'm just trying—"

"You need to make your own home, Ratchanee. And stop trying to take mine."

Tawan stepped around her. "This is the last time we have this conversation. Have a nice life."

Just then, Ira nudged Tawan aside, holding a cup of cider with a sweet, fake smile. "On the house."

The silent message was clear.

Go. Away.

Ratchanee's lips pressed together. "Keep it." She turned on her heel and stalked off, disappearing into the festival crowd. The crowd parted for her like Moses splitting the Red Sea, but people were not-so-quietly snickering behind her back.

"Oooo," someone murmured.

"Rude," Ira said, shaking her head dramatically. "This stuff's worth more than gold. Am I right?"

"Hell yeah!" a man in line shouted.

"I'll take it if she doesn't want it!" a little boy piped up.

Ira beamed. "Here you go, sweetie. It's all yours."

"Thanks! Mama, look!" The boy held the cup like it was a treasure, beaming as his mother led him away.

A cart beeped, clearing people out of the way as Dad and Wanthanee pulled up, hauling two more vats of cider.

Dad eyed Ratchanee's retreating back, then turned to Tawan with a knowing look as they set the heavy containers on the table.

"Okay?" Rong asked quietly.

"Fine," Tawan said, brushing off the last shreds of irritation.

"You know, that girl's been after me to sell the house for a while now," Rong said, filling a fresh cup. "Told her it wasn't mine to sell."

"Yeah, I told her I'm not selling. Ever." Tawan shoved the full vat of warm nam dokmai mango cider into place. "Pretty sure I made it stick."

"Good." Rong rolled his shoulders, and his relief was evident. "It's your place, and it's your call, but...I'm glad, son. Real glad."

"Me too," Tawan said.

"Me three." Wanthanee flashed a look of understanding before turning to Ira with a smile. "Earn, have you had a chance to see any of the Kalasin Rice Ear Castle Festival, or have you been trapped here the whole time?"

Rong gestured toward the rows of booths lining the bustling festival streets. "Why don't you return the empties and show her around? We'll cover things here."

Ira's eyes lit up like a kid in a Thai dessert shop. "You sure you don't need help?"

Rong winked. "I've been working on this festival since before Sevens was even an idea. A few hours playing bartender won't kill me."

"Thanks, Rong." Ira beamed and kissed his cheek. "I've been looking forward to this. We'll come back to help close."

Tawan's shoulders tensed at the thought of leading her through the festival crowds, but he didn't say no.

"You two run along." Wanthanee shooed them away and then returned to the long customer line. "Who's next?"

"Think we can get seats close to the stage?" Ira hugged Tawan's arm as they approached the cider cart. "I want the front row when Kai performs."

Tawan moved the cart into place and hooked it to the trailer. "We can do better than that."

He fired off a quick text to Brick.

Tawan: We need the VIP section for the show.

A few seconds later, Brick replied.

Brick: On it.

They dropped the empty cider vats behind Sevens for Ken to unload, and then Tawan led Ira into the bustling crowd.

The festival streets were alive with artist stalls, street food vendors, and traditional dance performances. The scent of grilled food filled the air, mingling with the sweet aroma of kanom krok being cooked fresh over hot griddles.

"Hungry?" Tawan asked.

"Starving." Ira's eyes sparkled as she took in the sights. "Think they have cotton candy?"

"Always. My Aunt Sunitha makes the best. She was featured in 'Thai Street Eats' magazine last year."

He led her toward Sunitha's Sweets, a red-and-gold-striped stall decorated with banana leaves and handwoven baskets. The line stretched around the corner, customers eager for her famous khanom tan, kanom tuay, and colorful sticky rice desserts.

"Ohhh..." Ira stared around in awe, stepping aside to let someone pass. "This is... What is this?"

"It's Aunt Sunitha's goldmine. She makes enough this weekend to fund her temple donations and sponsor kids in school."

Ira picked up a small container and read the label. "Durian-Coconut jam? That's a thing?"

"Nong Tawan, my dear girl." Aunt Sunitha swept toward them, expertly moving through the crowd with the grace of someone who had been working festivals for decades. "It's about time you showed up. And this must be Ira. I see you've already found the best treats in Kalasin."

Aunt Sunitha turned and picked up a tray of crispy rice crackers topped with her famous jam.

"Taste this. It's my best batch yet."

Ira took a bite, her eyes widening with delight. "This is so good. Can we buy a case?"

Aunt Sunitha beamed with pride. "I knew I liked you." She handed the tray to one of her helpers and waved her hand at Tawan. "You keep this girl, Tawan. She's good people."

Tawan only grunted.

Ira grinned as she looked over the stall. "Okay, but I really want to try the cotton candy."

"Of course you do. Who doesn't?" Aunt Sunitha gestured for them to follow. "But I bet you've never had anything like this. It's called 'Nam Dok Mai Dream.' Nobody else makes it the way I do—with real mango bits and a touch of pandan."

She handed Ira a fluffy golden-green cloud of mango-pandan-infused cotton candy. "Try it. While I put a bag together for you."

Ira took a bite and let out a soft, blissful moan.

"Oh. My. God. This is... amazing."

Tawan smirked as Aunt Sunitha puffed up like a proud chef.

"Told you."

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Ira protested.

Aunt Sunitha snapped open a woven pandan leaf bag. "Don't be silly, dear girl. It's your first festival. You have to sample everything until you're almost sick. That's a rule."

"That sounds like a great rule to me." Ira's eyes twinkled as she watched Aunt Sunitha fill the bag with kao tom mad , coconut biscuits, kanom mor gaeng, pandan bread, and two jars of her famous durian-coconut jam.

"I never knew rice and coconuts could be turned into so many things," Ira said, beaming. "I'm in love."

"I admit I do have quite the selection." Aunt Sunitha gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, then waved an admonishing finger at Tawan. "I better see you both at the talent show. Kai's been practising his heart out."

For some strange reason, she winked at Ira.

Ira's eyes widened before she buried her face in the mango-flavored cotton candy. "We'll be there," she said around a mouthful. "Can't wait."

It was almost three in the morning when they returned home.

Tawan's back and shoulders ached from the long day, and Ira looked as wilted as she'd ever seen her.

"I didn't think you could run out of energy," Tawan commented as she locked the door behind them.

"It's not gone. It's hibernating." Ira plodded up the stairs, her steps slow and heavy. "How early do we have to be there in the morning?"

"It's already morning."

Watching her climb in those jeans was an absolute distraction. The slow sway of her hips sparked all kinds of inappropriate thoughts in Tawan's mind. She clenched her jaw and forced her focus back on the hallway.

"It's not morning"—Ira interrupted herself with a yawn that ended in a soft, adorable squeak—"until the sun comes up."

"Dawn's in four hours. But we should be there by ten."

She followed Ira down the hallway, checking each room to ensure everything was secure. The security system was untouched, the doors locked, and the windows latched. It was routine by now but double-checking never hurt.

Ira leaned against the wall by her bedroom door, looking like she could fall asleep standing up. "Go on, Rambo. Do your thing."

Tawan stepped inside, scanning the room. Closet, clear. Windows, secure. Bathroom—

She took one step in and froze.

Towels were draped neatly on the towel rack, a short robe hung on a nearby hook, and the scent of citrus and warm skin lingered in the air.

It was easy—too easy—to picture Ira in here. In the shower. Naked. Steaming-hot water cascading over her soft curves, slipping down her back, between her breasts, over her thighs.

Tawan swore under her breath and took a deep, deep breath. Held it. Let it out slow and steady. She forced herself to look away from the glass-enclosed shower and glare at her own reflection in the mirror.

It took seconds to verify that nothing was out of place.

She had no business picturing her client in here. No right to imagine her naked. She was a thousand different kinds of fool for wanting anything with Ira.

Get a grip, asshole.

Tawan stepped out of the bathroom, expecting Ira to be waiting out in the hallway like she was supposed to. Instead, she was rummaging through a drawer, completely ignoring protocol.

"You're supposed to wait until I call clear," Tawan said, irritation creeping into her tone.

"You were taking too long." Ira pulled out a slip of cloth that Tawan assumed was underwear, along with the old white shirt she'd been sleeping in, and tossed them onto the bed.

Tawan's mouth went dry.

Great. Now she was picturing Ira in nothing but that white shirt.

It was somehow worse than imagining her naked. The idea of her soft, bare skin just barely hidden beneath the worn fabric was too much. Too real.

She ripped her gaze away before the traitorous thoughts make her do something she may regret.

"It doesn't take a minute for me to do a sweep," Tawan muttered, trying to regain control.

"If I stood there thirty more seconds, I was going to collapse in the hallway." Ira didn't even look up as she gathered her things. "And I don't want to crawl into bed until I've had a shower. We both smell like rice husks and smoke. Not in a good way. I'm going to rinse off, then pass out."

Tawan swallowed hard and forced herself to nod. "Fine." She strode past her, eyes fixed anywhere but on Ira's bare thighs. "Good night."

"Night."

She barely made it out the door before Ira pulled her shirt off.

Tawan clenched her fists and covered the distance to her own room like the house was on fire.

Not enough doors. Not enough walls. Not enough distance.

If she listened too carefully, she could hear the faint rush of water running.

Maybe she should sleep downstairs. Or in the truck. Or in another city.

No. She could handle this. She was a professional.

Tawan yanked her own shirt over her head, only to grimace when she caught the scent of fermented rice and wood smoke. Ira was right—it was awful. She tossed the shirt into the laundry basket and stepped into the bathroom.

She ruthlessly turned the shower dial to arctic and stepped under the freezing stream.

It didn't help.

Instead, her mind betrayed her.

A fantasy unraveled behind her closed eyes—dangerously vivid.

Ira's smile was knowing, flirty, all kinds of sinful as she welcomed her into the shower. Her arms curled around Tawan's shoulders, her body pressing into hers, warm and wet.

Tawan's hands traced the contours of Ira's back, gliding lower, fingertips teasing over the firm curve of her ass. Ira moaned softly, her breath hot against Tawan's throat.

Then she was up against the wall.

Tawan pinned her there, water cascading over them, her hands exploring every inch of Ira's body. Ira's legs wrapped around her waist, leaving her open for the taking.

A loud knock shattered the illusion.

Tawan's eyes flew open.

She turned off the spray and listened. Had she imagined it?

Another knock. Lighter, hesitant.

Tap-tap-tap.

On high alert, Tawan grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her torso.

Ira never knocked on her door.

"Tawan?" Ira's voice drifted through the wood.

She threw the door open. "What's wrong?"

Ira stumbled back.

Her amber eyes widened. Her breath hitched.

"I—oh."

She wasn't wearing the underwear she had pulled out earlier. Just the damn white shirt.

It hit mid-thigh.

Which meant that beneath it...

Tawan's grip tightened on the doorframe.

Ira's damp hair clung to her neck, her skin still flushed from the shower. The scent of her fresh citrus shampoo wrapped around Tawan, luring her closer.

Every muscle in Tawan's body screamed at her to step forward. To bridge the tiny distance between them. To finish the fantasy that had just played out in her mind.

But she didn't.

She couldn't.

She put her free hand on the edge of the door, fingers digging into the wood. Hard. "What do you want, Earn?"

For the first time since they met, Ira looked uncertain.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice quieter than usual. "I didn't mean to interrupt your shower."

"It's fine." Tawan's voice was gruff, controlled—barely. If Ira kept standing there, she wasn't going to be able to stop herself from doing something insanely stupid. "What is it?"

Ira's gaze flickered down, just for a second, before snapping back to her face. Her cheeks flushed.

"I had a really great time today, or I guess... yesterday now." Her voice was softer than usual, more hesitant. "I know it was a lot of extra work for you, but you did it anyway. I just wanted to say thank you. It meant a lot."

Tawan forced herself to breathe. To keep her hands at her sides instead of reaching for Ira.

"Not a problem." A beat of silence stretched between them. "Is that it?"

Ira nodded, turned slightly as if to go—then hesitated.

"Actually, no." She turned back, her amber eyes flickering with something unreadable. "I also wanted to thank you for bringing me here. I know hanging out with me wasn't high on your list of things to do. I was a giant pain in the ass when we met. I resisted every step of the way. I did some stupid things. I made it harder for you."

Tawan should argue with her. Should say something to smooth it over. But before she could, Ira kept going.

"But then you brought me here, and you... you shared your family with me when I couldn't have my own." Her voice wavered slightly, but she pressed on. "You didn't have to do that. You could've hidden me away in some random place, but you didn't."

Tawan's lips twitched. "I considered it."

A ghost of a smile crossed Ira's face. "I'd have deserved it." She exhaled, glancing down. "Anyway, I know I'm just a job to you, but you've really gone out of your way to make things easier for me."

Tawan's stomach twisted. That wasn't true.

"You're not just a job." The words came out before she could stop them. And they felt like a confession.

Ira blinked, startled. Then, as if she didn't believe her, she gave a half-smile. A self-deprecating, tired smile.

"Yes, I am." She wrapped her arms around herself. "I'm a paycheck to most of the people in my life. I know what that feels like."

"Earn—"

"It's okay." She looked down at her hands, twisting them together. "It seems ridiculous to say, considering the reason we're here, but this whole experience has been... well, really special. For the first time in a long time, I feel grounded. Is that stupid?"

"No." Hell, no.

Tawan tightened her grip on the doorframe, like she needed to hold on to something solid. Because looking at Ira like this—soft, vulnerable, real—made her want to pull her close.

Ira's gaze locked onto hers, and it felt like a punch to the chest.

"I've only been here a month, but I love this place. I loved getting to know your family. Your friends. Even waiting tables, which—let's be real—nobody expected me to enjoy."

The wood creaked under Tawan's grip. She forced herself to relax her fingers before she snapped the damn doorframe in half.

"Earn..."

She gave a small laugh, but it was hollow. "I spent all week thinking about this, and you were right about the kiss. We're just two people who got stuck together, not two people who found each other. Life doesn't work out like it does in books, no matter how my siblings make it look." She lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. "It's okay."

But the sadness in her smile nearly wrecked Tawan.

"But for what it's worth," Ira continued, her voice quieter now, "I'm happy you brought me here. I'm glad I got to hear Kai sing, but most of all, I'm really, really glad I got to spend time with you."

She looked down, then back up at her with a wry, bittersweet expression.

"Even if you'd rather not be here with me."

That. That right there was what broke her.

"So, anyway. That's it. I just wanted to say thank you. For everything."

Ira turned to leave.

Something inside Tawan snapped.

All the rules. All the reasons why this was a bad idea. None of it mattered.

She couldn't let Ira walk away.

"Ira."

Her name tore out of Tawan's throat.

Ira barely had time to turn before Tawan reached her in two strides—

And then she was in her arms.

"You're not just a job. Not to me."

Then Tawan kissed her.

Hard. Desperate. Like finding water after a long, long time in the desert.

Ira let out a small squeak of surprise, then—then she melted into it.

Her arms wrapped around Tawan's neck, pulling her closer. Her lips softened, parted—

And then she kissed her back.