Chapter Six
One lovely dinner at an Italian place in Waynesboro gave way to sausages and spätzle the next night at the homely German restaurant off Route 11, the one built into an old Victorian and decorated with wood carvings of beer steins and Hummel-like figurines. On Wednesday came the Food Truck Rodeo at Lost Girls, where they munched on Korean tacos while Satin introduced her to every customer who simply mentioned tattoos, and the next night Cory brought over gyros and chips from the local deli and they watched her favorite shows.
On Friday, Winnie checked her lipstick for the fifth time and waited for Cory to arrive. Food-wise, they’d spanned the globe, but no date had progressed beyond a kiss. Granted, the kisses evolved nicely, from a shy peck that first night to a slow and smoldering fusion after Thursday’s sitcom fest. As much as she enjoyed Cory’s company, she continued to stand guard around her heart. Her natural inclination toward skepticism bothered her, too. Cory had done nothing to her in high school to encourage suspicion that he intended to set her up for a fall. He’d been nice, though he never went the extra mile to make her feel like a friend. If he’d joined the bullies in their sea cow games, he never publicized it.
She acknowledged, too, her role or lack thereof in Friendship 101. She’d offer help with homework notes and such, but had feared rejection too much to take it a step further with an invitation to a study date off campus. Silence kept her heart whole, so she thought, but in truth it amplified her loneliness.
Now she spun before her mirror to check for imperfections on her dress and in her hair. Zeppo padded next to her, tail wagging, and she reached down to scratch behind her ears.
“You’ve already been fed and walked,” she chided, and nearly caved to get him a treat when he whined. “Sorry, sweetie. The vet said to cut back on the snacks. I’ll leave the TV on while I’m out, though.” She heard the tags on his collar jingle as he followed her out to the living room, where she switched on the all-cartoon channel. Zeppo circled the carpet twice before settling in to doze in front of the set. She laughed at how quickly the sounds of the Powerpuff Girls enchanted her dog. She’d lucked out with Zeppo—never found a mess on the floor, or anything torn or chewed up after leaving him for long periods.
She hated to buck the vet’s expert advice, but the pup deserved something nice for his good behavior. Cory planned to take her to Steam, the new farm-to-fork place in town. She had yet to eat there but heard about their amazing cookies. Maybe one without chocolate, fed in small bites to Zeppo over time.
Cory arrived in a dark sport coat over a crisp white shirt and black jeans, clean shaven, no tie. He took in Winnie’s knee-length red dress, trimmed in black around the hems, waist, and sleeves, and whistled. “I know we’re ready to rock tonight,” he said and, catching her side-eye at his attire, added, “Before you say anything, these jeans cost more than the tux I rented for prom. I think that counts as formal.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything about that.” She laughed and held up his hand when he outstretched it. “I was wondering if this is what I think it is.”
Cory turned his knuckles up to show off the sizable chunk of jewelry. “Yep, it’s the real deal,” he said of his Super Bowl ring. “I don’t usually wear it around. It feels kind of funny, to be honest.”
“You’re worried it might get lost or stolen?”
“There’s always that worry, I guess, even if you keep it in a safe. Sometimes I think it looks showy to go around wearing it.” As if to build on that point, he shoved that hand in his front pocket.
“I don’t think so. You earned it, why not wear it?” she asked, and grabbed her keys to lock up. “If you got a college ring you’d wear it, right?”
He nodded and tilted his head one way to look down her arm. “If I’d finished college, yes. I notice you don’t have one.”
Winnie shrugged. “Seemed like an unnecessary expense to me, especially since I only completed my AA. I got the diploma; it’s all that matters to me.”
“You’ve accomplished a lot after high school.”
“So have you.” She smiled, looking forward to more conversation during dinner.
When he took her hand to guide her to the car, she hoped for more of that as well.
***
It took a while to read the entire menu. The owner and head chef of Steam billed her eatery as a place to enjoy “local food.” The majority of her ingredients came from farms in and around St. Florence, and if not there then neighboring sources in Nelson and Albemarle counties. As such, Chef Ella listed the origins of every dish served. Tonight’s special: jambalaya featuring sausage from Afton and lake catfish caught in Farmville.
“I’m ordering that, too, otherwise I’ll spend the evening watching you with envy as you eat yours.” Winnie closed her menu and ordered a Viognier from Monticello Vineyards.
Cory asked to hang onto to his menu to study desserts. “Tempted as I am to see how the chef cooks with our food, I can’t pass up that flourless chocolate cake.” He showed her the back cover listing of homemade sweets. All the berries in the shortcake tower came from Levane Farms. It reminded him of his mother’s pies—blueberry or blackberry served with ice cream after Sunday dinner. Oh, and the fried hand pies she’d make for their lunches during finals week at school—something to reward them for all the test taking. Classmates offered many a bribe to get him to surrender his. Once she sent some to him in care of the Cougars and his teammates snapped them up.
He glanced at her, finding her lovely as ever in the glow of candlelight in their corner of the restaurant. Steam gave off a relaxed vibe; he saw most diners had come dressed casually, though he and Winnie didn’t appear out of place. White walls held black and white photographs of Central Virginia scenery—vineyards in bloom, vintage soda signs tacked to old gas stations, blazed trails in the Shenandoah Valley. He felt as though he could come back regularly, maybe once a month. Other patrons glanced his way in recognition, but nobody approached them, and he liked that.
“Don’t suppose you’d split one with me?”
Winnie’s lips pursed. “I don’t know…that shortcake tower looks good.”
“Get both and go halfsies?”
“Now you’re talking. While we’re waiting, and forgive me for doing this. I don’t like phones at the dinner table, but I wanted to show you this.” Winnie tapped and swiped until she found what she wanted then turned her phone screen to reveal a color drawing. Even in the small window, the picture of the football player, pigskin tucked under one arm, running atop the Earth popped. The player showed no logos on his uniform, but Winnie had used the Cougar colors. He marveled at the detail; it definitely looked perfect for a children’s book.
“I thought maybe it would make for a good cover,” she was saying. “I really don’t know how publishing works, if they’d want something with a lighter background—”
“This is amazing. I’d want it on a poster.” His voice nearly gushed his admiration. “If this is a cover sample, I can’t wait to see what you’ll do with the text I sent over the other night.”
“Wonder no more.” She swiped left to show sketches of the first page. Cory had asked his sister Suzanne to pass along the first draft to an elementary teacher friend to review, in exchange for a visit to her second grade class to be scheduled later. After a few quick revisions, he’d sent the story to Winnie to work on when she had downtime. He hadn’t expected results so quickly, not when she had other clients as priority.
Her smile fell a bit, and her hand drooped, and he no longer saw the artwork. “What?” she asked. “You don’t like it.”
“Huh? I love it. Everything’s coming together. I just…” He laughed nervously. “I was thinking of how you found the time to get all this done between your day job and all your nights occupied with me.” He offered her a smile he hoped looked alluring, and not goofy.
“We spend evenings together, not the whole night,” she pointed out and slipped the phone back into her bag.
“That could change.”
He rendered her speechless with the one short sentence. Her eyes widened a touch, and it felt like the entire restaurant had gone silent, waiting for her response. Cory let his gaze slide around and he noticed diners engrossed in their meals and companions. Nobody seemed concerned about the retired pro football player trying to seduce his date.
He reached out and stroked her hand with his thumb. The slight tremble of her fingers let him know he’d touched her in another way. He wanted to tell how he’d spent the last week thinking of lying in bed with her, making love and cuddling afterward, maybe spending a lazy Saturday with the TV on and croissants flaking all over her comforter. Shooing the dog to another room when they were ready to get intimate again.
His eyes met hers and read a similar notion, yet when her lids flickered and she turned her head he suspected some doubt lingered in her mind. Had somebody hurt her in the past? He wouldn’t assume she felt self-conscious about her body. Winnie might fear losing her identity or independence, or wonder about getting into a relationship she wasn’t sure she wanted.
“Is everything okay?” he asked. Never assume. Ass, you, me. Best to get it all out right now.
“Hm?” She focused on him and smiled. “No. I’m enjoying myself. Just that sometimes I get an idea in my head at an inappropriate time and I brood a bit without a way to vault over it.”
“A naughty idea?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Can I help?”
Dinner arrived before she could answer, and the course of conversation shifted to the deliciousness of their jambalaya and hot rosemary rolls with butter. Cory was scooping up the last of the sauce in his bowl with the heel of his bread when Winnie dropped her napkin in surrender. “I am thinking the shortcake,” she announced. “The fruit will put out the fire.”
“Chocolate does wonders for that, too, but we’ll get one of each and sample.”
She scooted back and rose. “Think on that. I want to see what else is in the dairy case.”
“Maybe get dessert to go?” he suggested, thinking whatever they ordered would keep in her fridge while they enjoyed something sweeter.
Winnie offered a smile in response, giving him hope.
***
“You lookin’ to buy dessert?”
Winnie let the groan settle in her stomach. Here we go.
The man who’d sidled up to her was older—she considered herself a bad judge of age, but would guess somewhere in the sixty-plus area if prodded. His gaze panned her body in a manner that implied to her a lecture percolated in his mind. Damn it. She was having such a nice time with Cory, too. She ought to return to their table and not give this man the satisfaction of getting under her skin.
Although, he could simply be making conversation, or else be fishing for a recommendation. She hated to anticipate the worst of people, but given her track record, she had a difficult time switching the default thought.
What the hell? She’d find a teachable moment here.
She straightened her posture, pushed out her ample bosom, and flashed her teeth. “Always. Never been here before, just seeing what’s good.”
The man’s tongue snaked around his mouth, as though working to dislodge a seed. “They got a nice strawberries and cream bowl here. Course, you could order it without the cream.”
“Why do that? And I can get strawberries anywhere cheaper than what a restaurant charges.”
“I realize that,” he said, and looked away. So much for giving the benefit of the doubt. Winnie kept her eyes trained on the man, knowing the more she put up a confident front the more she weakened his reserve. “But they’re better for you plain.”
“Not fattening, you mean.”
“Well, there’s that—”
Winnie pointed to her mouth. “You see this?”
“Eh?”
Her fingernail tapped the corner of her mouth. “Do you see this mouth, and does it belong to you? The answer is no, it’s mine. I decide what I put in it.”
The man took on an affronted stance, like how dare she react badly to his attempt at shaming her. “Hey.” He held up his hands, “I was trying to help you out, dearie. The way you’re packing that weight, it can’t be healthy.”
“Packing that weight.” Like she was smuggling fat for the winter. “This is my body, and you are not my physician, and unless you have firsthand access to my medical records you have no right—”
“Everything okay over here?” Cory’s shoulder nudged hers, and he wedged himself into the space between them. “Sir, if you need assistance with the dessert case, you ought to ask a server.” In an act of perfect timing, one strode in her direction and, on seeing the imminent explosion, skittered backward and away with eyes wide.
Mister I’m Just Sayin’ regarded Cory with a smile. “Cory Levane. I wish these circumstances had been better.” He took Cory’s hand, but her date registered no appreciation for the fawning. “This your friend?”
“This is my date.”
“Ah.” Conversation over. The older man merely nodded and offered Winnie one last look before returning to his table. She swore she heard him mutter how Cory could have any other woman in the world.
Any thin woman. Thin good, pretty. Not thin, horrific beached whale. Must save from herself.
No, she told herself. Not going to let this asshole ruin her night.
A hand touched her waist, and Cory moved closer as his arm slid across her back and pulled her tight against him. “You alright? You want me to get the check?”
“I thought we were having dessert.” She looked directly at him and, finding no pity, relaxed. He had a cold expression, no doubt leftover from the earlier confrontation. “Look, I’m not letting anybody direct the course of this evening but me. Well,” she shrugged, “maybe you. You drove us here.”
The straight line bent upward, and Cory brushed his lips against her temple. “I wouldn’t mind getting that shortcake and the chocolate cake to go.”
“I’ll wait at the table while you settle up.” After she sat down, she surveyed the room. A few people looked at and nodded toward Cory as he placed their to-go order and handed a credit card to their server. Winnie expected that—how often did a celebrity come to town, much less move back after achieving fame? He’d field stares and whispers for a while until people got used to having him around, she guessed.
Her “concerned friend” lingered over coffee with his female companion, who cast furtive glances in her direction every few seconds. Winnie watched the older woman—slim, naturally—pat the man’s hand and murmur. Winnie sucked at lipreading but guessed the jerk had at least one supporter. Oh, hon, you did nothing wrong. You tried to save that fatty’s life, but she refused to listen.
Where was Cory with her cake?
She closed her eyes to will him back, and he appeared seconds later holding a paper bag with Steam’s logo stamped in black. “Ready?”
Winnie clutched at her purse but remained in place. That couple sat close to the front door. They’d have to pass their table on the way out. Her eyes were flitting back and forth, looking for an alternate exit when she bit out a whispered curse.
Cory stepped closer. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head. She’d fought similar fat-shaming and finger-pointing most of her life. If she slinked out the back way because some asshole felt the need to express his disgust, it meant he got to her. She’d let enough people under her skin over the years. Time to expel the demons.
With an exaggerated hip sway, she lifted herself from her chair and took the bag. Cory, hands now free, placed one at the small of her back and guided her toward the door. Servers bade them good night, and a few diners acknowledged Cory, who waved back. Reaching the offending patron at his table, Winnie raised her chin and smiled. Eyes straight, zero fucks given.
She startled at a new sensation, which caused her to yelp.
Cory put his hand on her butt and squeezed.
Take that.
***
“Something bothering you?”
Winnie had a smile on her face when they left the restaurant, but once in the car and out of St. Florence’s downtown area her expression settled into pensive territory. His sister would call it “resting bitch face,” but Cory figured a look like that preceded biting off somebody’s head.
He thought to everything he did and said tonight, picking out anything that might warrant her cursing him out. Nothing. Either he was that thick or Winnie…well, the b-word hardly suited her.
“No, why do you ask?” Her face softened as she turned to him.
He shook his head, eyes still on the road. “I don’t know. I’m thinking I should have done more when that jerk came up to you.”
She snorted. “Like what? Put him through the wall? Beating up on old people is no way to start your career as a children’s author.”
“Not that extreme.” He laughed and nearly missed a turn. Luckily, they had this stretch of US 250 to themselves and he backed up a bit to go left. “I don’t like seeing anybody bullied. Doesn’t matter that it’s disguised as well-meaning advice. He was wrong to make a comment.”
“Cory, it’s okay—”
“No.” His face heated. “He was wrong, and so were the kids at school. Name one person who has the right to put anybody down. I never went around telling my teammates they shouldn’t smoke or drink after practice. They own their bodies, they make their choices.”
“Uh”—she stretched it for a few seconds— “are you implying I choose to be a big girl?”
Crap. He’d been so careful with his words. He didn’t think this time. “Winnie, it’s not what I meant.”
“Cory, I’m fat. It’s not a bad word, and it’s not an insult. It’s an adjective.” She squirmed in place, moving the shoulder strap of her seatbelt to a more comfortable position. “It’s like saying you’re muscular.”
“And handsome?” He aimed for levity. It worked.
“And goofy, yes.” She laughed. “For the record, I’ve tried different eating plans. Lost weight and gained it back, and then some. One day I decided to hell with it—rather than kill myself to attain a figure acceptable to everybody else, I’ll accept who I am as is. I exercise and eat well, and worry about more important things.”
“I always thought you had it together. It’s what I liked about you back in school. What I still like,” he said. The road before them seemed to stretch on forever, though he knew it wouldn’t take long to reach their destination. He felt tempted to take a turn for a detour and add to the drive. He enjoyed this quiet, serious moment with Winnie. They were connecting.
“I think I get now,” he added, “that you don’t need protection. You handled yourself well back there, better than I would have.”
“Really?”
He glanced quickly and caught her disbelieving stare.
“A big-time athlete buckles under criticism? I figured you guys have skin thicker than what makes the football.”
“You’d think, and we put up with a lot of crap, especially when we lose.” He huffed. “It’s no fun when sportscasters rip you to shreds on national TV, or when fans boo you when they think you’re not playing your best.”
“I guess that’s why I never got wrapped up in any sports. Once I watched a World Series game and afterward all I thought about was the pain the losing team suffered while they watched the champions dogpile on each other on the field.” Winnie slapped her thighs. “How did we get on such a depressing topic?”
Cory smiled. “You’re right. Let’s talk some more about how I’m muscular and handsome.”
“I’d rather know where you’re taking me,” Winnie said, tapping the passenger side window. “I thought we were going home for dessert.”
“We are. My home.”
***
Winnie pressed her palms against her thighs, unable to comprehend why they’d become damp and why her heart pounded a touch faster than normal. She was acquainted with Eunice and Anthony Levane and Cory’s sisters and many of the Levane cousins and assorted other blood relatives and in-laws. She knew Cory had gone back to stay in his old room while he searched for a place of his own, and she’d been to the farm several times to pick berries and shop for veggies. Why did tonight make her nervous?
You know why. Cory wasn’t bringing home a friend to sit at the kitchen table with cookies and milk while they pored over English notes. He intended to show off a date. A girlfriend.
Girlfriend. The word sounded foreign in her head, impossible. She’d been a girlfriend before, albeit briefly, but not to a guy like Cory. The idea he wanted to bring her to his family house for an after-date coffee and conversation or whatever had her perplexed and nervous. What did he plan there that they couldn’t enjoy at her house, with no witnesses save for the dog?
She let the thoughts take over her mind as a soft country tune hummed from the stereo, and Cory turned off the main highway onto Levane Road for the long trek to the farm property. Well, maybe a quarter mile, but to Winnie it seemed like an epic journey. Ahead of them the house, the barn, and the lush fields ripe with various crops cut the perfect rural picture, even under the lamplight. She’d loved coming out here in her youth, especially on summer weekends when the Levanes hired out amusements and vendors to attract bigger crowds to their business.
“What are you thinking about?” Cory’s voice broke through her memories.
She took a deep breath. “I believe your parents may have had a hand in my face painting business.”
His brow wrinkled, curious.
“Remember when your parents held those little festivals with the bounce house and cornhole boards and all that?”
“Yeah. My sisters and I would watch them inflate that big ol’ castle, and we made sure to ‘test’ it out before the farm opened for the day.” He laughed. “I begged Dad to let us keep it the whole weekend so we could bounce all night.”
“They had face painters, too. After Marcy and I got ours made up, sometimes I’d sit and watch the lady do the other kids.” She probably made an odd sight, a young girl fascinated by a woman and her makeup palette instead of free blackberry cobbler samples and prizes promised for winning the water balloon toss. Marcy would fail to cajole her away from the booth with distractions of candy and cute boys. She preferred to stay behind and ask questions—did the face painting lady have to go to school to learn her craft? What was the most requested design?
Did she love her job?
“I never heard how you got into painting kids’ faces. I didn’t realize you might be inspired by somebody my parents hired.”
“I wasn’t sure if you all knew the people who worked the amusements. I used to believe they were all your extended family,” Winnie said with a laugh.
“Nope. Just people Dad picked out of a phone book.” After a beat, he added, “I guess maybe we should get a royalty or something from all the mugs you’ve painted since you began? Or a finder’s fee?” He grinned.
“I’d have to disclose how much I make at the farmers market and private parties. A lady never tells.” She winked. “If you like, though, I’ll paint your face for free.”
“Good. Got my heart set on Captain America.”
“Aye, aye.” She saluted. The banter helped, but once he parked the car alongside a beater pick-up truck her heart sped up again. Ridiculous to feel this way. She and Cory were adults. It wasn’t like she had to perform for parental approval.
At least Lisa and Suzanne no longer lived at home, and their absence relaxed her a bit. She got along with them well, but like with Cory they hadn’t been close as kids.
Cory opened the passenger door for her and escorted her through the side kitchen—the informal entrance, as family does—smack into the aroma of an apple-cinnamon dessert at the mouth of a time tunnel. The Levanes’ kitchen evoked the spirit of the fifties with its bright mint-green walls and trim, the Formica table and diner-style chairs, and the neon Coca-Cola clock on the wall. Only the appliances, top of the line with digital functionality, indicated their place in the present.
“Cory?” Eunice called from a distant room. Winnie heard the sound of applause and the steady tick-tick-tick of a giant wheel of fortune being spun on television.
“It’s me, Ma. Winnie’s here, too.”
Ugh. Well, she supposed he needed to say something. Then again, they could have slipped upstairs without their knowing. What am I thinking? She couldn’t say he’d brought her here to fool around. With parents hovering, the best she hoped for now would be lemonade and hand holding on the front porch, listening for crickets.
“Oh. Winnie, hello.” The voice grew in strength and volume. Footsteps approached and Eunice, who resembled her daughters better than her only son, emerged from a doorway in a terry robe over jeans and a T-shirt. “Pardon the look. It’s been a bit chilly lately, and it saves a bit of money not to turn on the heat.”
“Mom, I told you it isn’t much if you—”
Eunice waved him silent and grabbed a potholder. “You save your money for your own place. Wearing a robe and using an extra blanket is free.” She pulled the oven door open a few inches and inspected the deliciousness within. “I kept the cobbler warm in case you skipped dessert. There’s enough for the both of you, and we have ice cream.”
Cory took the doggie bag from Winnie. She startled a bit at his proximity. “I think we’ll wait a bit. I want to put this in the fridge while I show Winnie something.”
Eunice gave no impression she suspected her son had anything amorous in mind in her home. She straightened and took the goodies from Steam to store for him. “Oh, is this about the book you two are writing? I hear it’s coming along nicely.”
“Uh, yes. I suppose so.” Good lord, how many people knew about this project? Seemed every time the subject came up, it was assumed they were further along than they actually were. Tomorrow they’d be New York Times bestsellers and shortlisted for the Caldecott. “I try to get part of a page sketch completed when my regular work is done.”
“Did you bring drawings? I’d love to see.”
Cory wagged a finger at his mother. “No. Everybody will have to wait until the book launch. No spoilers.”
“I’ve told everybody I know. You’ll have at least a hundred orders before it’s ready to come out,” Eunice said. “Of course you’ll have to do signings at Between the Pages downtown, and all the bookstores in Charlottesville and Waynesboro.”
“Mom.” Cory rolled his eyes, clearly embarrassed by his mother’s bossing. Winnie found it endearing and stifled a laugh.
Eunice touched Winnie’s hand. “I swear, he’s done nothing but talk up this book since you came up with the offer. It’s going to be a great transition from football. Something that could help the community, too.”
“Thanks, but actually it was my cousin—”
Eunice carried on over her words, on a roll. “Cory, you did well enough in English and reading at school. You ought to parlay this into work at the library. I was talking to JoEllen the other day”—she referred to the head librarian at St. Florence’s only library—“and they are having a difficult time drumming up support for their summer literacy program. People don’t go to the library anymore. They’re all doing this.” The older woman bent her thumbs to make like she tapped away at an imaginary phone.
“Yeah, it’s a real shame. Every time I go, it’s nearly deserted,” Winnie said. It worried her, too, because lack of patronage typically led to closure. Winnie wore out library cards, and dreaded the idea of driving all the way to Charlottesville to get her fix.
“Exactly.” Eunice clasped her hands. “Winnie, maybe you can talk some sense into my son—”
“Hello? I’m right here.” Cory spread his arms wide.
“Wonderful, then listen to me.” Eunice cupped her hands around her mouth. “Call JoEllen. Get involved in their literacy programs and help get some butts into that building.”
“Eunice!” Cory’s father, Anthony, called from the den. “Give the boy a break tonight. He’s on a date.”
That did it. Winnie let out a laugh that crackled through the air, and she wanted to clamp her hand over her face. She’d stepped into a family sitcom with no discernible route of escape. Like hell would Cory let her slip away gracefully, leaving him to his mother’s mercies.
Eunice waved off her husband’s bark. “I came in here for drinks. Seriously, Cory….”
“Yeah, yeah. It’s on the list.” He crooked his neck at Winnie and urged her through the kitchen toward the front stairs. “Y’all have a good night, Mom. You need me in the morning for anything else? Non-reading and writing work?”
“We’re fine, son. But let me know if you’re staying for dinner so I’ll know how much to make. Good night, Winnie.”
“G’night, Winnie!” bellowed his father from the distant reaches of the house.
“Bye.” She waved, her inner high school girl feeling foolish and shy. The moment passed as awkwardly as expected, with her standing around while the scene played out. Cory acted all eager to get her up to his room and in seconds she was standing in a Cory Levane shrine, a small blue-walled room with décor untouched since the late nineties. He closed the door behind them to reveal a poster of Tyra Banks in a swimsuit, bent in an impossible cat-like pose in the middle of crashing surf.
Thumbtacks secured athletic medals to walls. A corkboard over a desk kept yellowed comic strips Cory obviously loved and deemed worthy of preservation. Calvin and Hobbes, Foxtrot, Dilbert. On his dresser, framed photographs revealed a bygone era of varsity sports highlights and prom merriment.
She thought she might see a snapshot of Johanna Greenspan among the many wallet-sized senior year photos collected in a collage on his night stand. She recognized many classmates but didn’t see the blonde, or herself.
“You never gave me your picture,” he said, “or I’d have put it up with the rest.”
“If I remember correctly, we traded those.” She turned to look at him now sitting on his twin bed, set in the corner and neatly made with two large pillows and a blue and green plaid blanket. “I don’t have one of you.”
A blush stained his cheeks. “I meant to give you one….”
“If I want a picture, I just have to do this.” She lifted her phone and fired off a shot, catching him wide-eyed in confusion. “Won’t that look nice on the back jacket of your book?”
“Oh lord.” He winced at the goofy surprise on his face. “Please say we’ll retake it when the time comes.”
Winnie slipped her phone back into her purse. “I like your blanket. Is that your family tartan?”
“Huh? This?” He glanced down where he sat. “I’m not certain we have one, you know? My dad does all the genealogy, and the Levanes are mostly English. I’ll bet you Mom bought this at Macy’s or something.”
Winnie nodded. Fair enough. She’d be at a loss if anyone asked about her family beyond her grandparents. “I’ll bet that blanket has some interesting stories, if it could talk.”
“Wanna know a secret?”
“Always,” said Winnie.
Cory’s head turned side to side, as though seeking out hidden eavesdropping parents. He then leaned forward and whispered, “You’re the first girl I ever brought up here.”
No way. She shook her head. “I find that hard to believe. You were popular in school, and I know you went on dates.”
“You flatter me.” Cory snorted. “Seriously, though, the dates got as far as the kitchen for fruit cobbler and ice cream. My parents weren’t that liberal with visitation rights. The only action I saw in here happened with my right hand, and maybe a magazine.”
“Ew!”
Cory shrugged. “Hey, you wanted to know.”
“Not that much.” She moved toward the window to check out the view but Cory cleared his throat and when she turned his way, he patted the mattress in invitation.
Not a coy move, especially given the smoldering expression on his face. Yet she couldn’t resist his smile. His bed was firm but comfortable, and small. Twin-sized, definitely made for a teenager—even a big boy. If the Levanes had turned a blind eye to adolescent shenanigans, Cory would’ve had a hell of a time seducing a girl in this matchbox.
“In about ten minutes, my parents will guess the answer to Final Jeopardy then try to sit through a movie on one of the premium channels,” he told her, drawing an arm around her shoulder to pull her close. “Might be a James Bond flick running for the umpteenth time on Showtime, or some eighties comedy cut to ribbons somewhere else. Point is, ten minutes after they decide, they’ll be zonked out on the couch and snoring.”
It sounded delightfully cozy to Winnie, being snuggled up next to a loved one after a long day. Still, the idea of one of them coming upstairs to ready for bed and hearing noises….
“Can I touch you, Winnie?”
“You already are.”
Cory’s nose touched hers. His brows furrowed. “You know what I mean. And don’t worry about Mom and Dad. They like you. If I had to bring anybody up here, you’d top their list.”
“Thanks…I think. I mean, the idea of your parents having a list of possible bed partners for you—”
“Why are we still talking?”
Good question. She sucked in a breath when Cory’s hand palmed her breast and squeezed. The nipple hardened in the heat of his touch, and suddenly the two layers of fabric covering her skin there needed to go.
They kissed, slowly yet with urgency. Winnie thought she’d be used to having Cory so close after this last week, but the intimacy of this setting—his personal space, his desire to bring past and present together—excited her. Her arms prickled where he touched her, and she pressed her thighs together when she felt the first pulse of want.
She kept her eyes closed but sensed the activity around her. His body leaned back without breaking contact, and she knew he reached for the nightstand drawer behind him. Then the zipper down her back gave way and cool air caused her to shiver a bit in his arms. Fingers on one hand tapped down to her bottom while the other pinned something cold—circular, wrapped in foil—to her shoulder blade, and she was being lifted, repositioned.
“You’ll stay a while, yes?” His voice rumbled in her ear, all thunder and sex. He laid her back on the bed and twined his legs with hers. The bulge between his thighs, hard and impressive, ground against the sweet spot. Zing!
“Yes,” she said. She did, all the way—from helping Cory remove her dress and his pants, to slipping the blanket over their nude bodies. Winnie noticed more tattoos on him as he stripped. Her fingers slid over the edges of an ornate cross inked on his left pec, and he twitched. Below that, a black coiled snake on his rib cage expanded with his every deep breath.
“Our high school mascot,” she said. This viper looked severe and deadly, though, nothing like the cartoon wearing a tricorn hat that graced their high school’s gymnasium walls.
“Every picture tells a story.” Cory lifted his opposite shoulder to show off the bare space on his chest. “Your cougar’s going here.”
“I can’t wait to see it.”
“I just can’t wait,” Cory said, and lowered himself onto her. She shifted to give him room to lie between her thighs, his hardness a great temptation she wanted to savor. She discovered, like Cory, she also lacked patience.
When he’d protected himself and finally entered her, she bit her lip to keep from crying out. She’d lost time and space here, but that one small thought of Cory’s parents lingered in the back of her mind, imploring her to celebrate this moment softly.
So the stars exploded behind their eyes as they would in space—without a sound except for their heavy panting and swallowed moans. Cory kissed her neck, starting a trail down to her breast and capturing a nipple with his teeth.
When he let go, he said, “If you never get a tat, fine by me. Your skin is incredible the way it is.”
Winnie murmured her thanks, too drunk with ecstasy to speak coherently. She relaxed into Cory’s every thrust and centered on him inside her until they climaxed together. As they lay in the afterglow and touched each other, she decided she preferred Cory’s tats to having one of her own.
Especially when they were pressed against her body.