At the fair

The county fair smelled like funnel cakes and sunbaked asphalt when Emily arrived on Saturday morning, the straps of her canvas tote bag digging into her shoulder as she maneuvered past a group of teenagers sharing a cloud of cotton candy. The dunk tank stood waiting near the livestock pavilion—an absurdly tall structure painted in Silver Financial’s corporate blue, with a bullseye target that looked freshly stenciled.

Kevin was already there, wrestling with a garden hose that kept kinking every time he tried to attach it to the tank’s pump. His polo shirt clung to his shoulders in the Texas heat. "You’re late," he called without turning around, but there was laughter in his voice.

Emily froze mid-step. "You said ten!"

"I lied." He finally won the battle with the hose and straightened up, wiping his forehead with the back of his wrist. His gaze flickered over her outfit—a modest one-piece swimsuit under an unbuttoned flannel shirt, the kind she’d worn a hundred times back home to swim in the creek. "That’s what you’re wearing?"

She tugged self-consciously at the hem of her shorts. "It’s—it’s a dunk tank, not a beauty pageant."

Kevin grinned, rubbing his chin like he'd just thought of something brilliant. "Actually, I was thinking—what if we offered a *premium* option?" He jerked his thumb toward a small tent pitched nearby, its flaps secured with rope. "People pay extra, they get to pick your outfit for the next round. We loaded it up with some... *interesting* choices."

Emily's eyes darted between Kevin and the tent, her fingers tightening around the straps of her tote bag. "What kind of interesting?"

"Oh, you know." He waved a hand airily, but there was a glint in his eye that made her stomach flutter. "Cowgirl getup, cheerleader outfit—Maggie even tossed in a mermaid tail from her niece's birthday party. All for charity, right?"

Before she could protest, Kevin had already unhooked the rope and pushed the tent flap aside. Inside hung a row of outfits so ridiculous Emily nearly laughed out loud—a sequined rodeo queen costume complete with fringe, a too-short tennis skirt with matching wristbands, and yes, the shimmering mermaid tail draped over a folding chair. But tucked in the back, barely visible, was something that made her breath catch—a sheer, gauzy sundress that looked like it belonged on a Greek statue, not a county fair dunk tank.

"See? Harmless fun." Kevin plucked the cheerleader outfit off its hanger and dangled it in front of her. "Twenty bucks a pop, all proceeds to the kids' ward. Think of the *smiles*, Emily."