“No, and that’s final. Besides, Jim’s paying me well after this, so I might have enough to make a dent in what I owe. Maybe I can take you to see Scotland eventually.”
That earns a smile as I ease her off my lap.
“Now, I want you to get dressed,” I say. “I’ve got a surprise waiting for you in the park.”
I pat her ass as she hurries off to the closet. But instead of feeling relieved that I’ve told her everything, I can’t help but feel the loss of my mother all over again. Maybe what I have planned for Quinn can brighten my mood.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Quinn
Aven leads me into a section of the park that’s themed after the 1950s. Shops and restaurants line the strip of “street,” making it look like a small town. A few classic cars even sit in front of a working diner. Further down the stretch of road, a couple of flat rides—a zipper and a carousel—have been set up like an old-school fair. As we draw closer, I even spot a fun house and...
“Please tell me we can eat funnel cake. And ride The Tunnel of Love!” I release Aven’s hand and run to the massive pink heart that serves as the entrance. “I’ve always wanted to ride one of these, but I’ve never seen one in person. Look! They even have the swan boats!”
Aven grins and wraps his arms around my waist when he reaches me. “Lass, you can ride whatever your wee heart desires as soon as I’ve shown you your surprise. If you’re good, I’ll even chase you through the fun house after that.”
I roll my eyes. “When am I not good?”
“Though...I suppose we could indulge in a little appetizer before the main course,” he says. “You know, because you’re such a good girl.”
I shimmy my ass and move toward the small stand off to the side of the zipper ride. I go to the front to place an order, but Aven shakes his head and motions for me to go to the side entrance.
“We’ll prepare it ourselves to make sure there’s no funny business,” he says, and we step inside.
Once he’s kicked the staff out of the tiny kitchen, he sets to work. He tosses out the batter that’s been sitting out for god knows how long and starts to prepare some from scratch.
“More of your mother’s teaching?” I ask as I peer over his shoulder.
He nods and dumps the ingredients into the bowl. “Aye, she loved making funnel cakes. The little church in town held a bazaar each spring, and she’d set up a stand and sell sweets to the wee ones. I helped her a time or two.”
I dip my finger into the bowl, and he studies me as I bring a glob of batter to my lips. My nose scrunches when the taste assaults my tongue. “Blech, what the fuck is that? That doesn’t taste like funnel cake.”
“It hasn’t been cooked yet. The grease and heat will change the taste.”
“No, I think it’s missing something.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that, Betty Crocker? Sushi rice?”
I swat his arm as I get an idea. “No, but that special curry wasn’t half bad. Maybe you should add a little ofthatto the mix.”
“Okay. I’ll just whip a little hairnet over my short and curlies and we’ll be right as rain.” He shakes his head with a laugh and goes back to stirring.
I step in behind him and wind my arms around his waist, going right for his junk. He growls as I grip him through his shorts.
“You’re serious?”
“I am.”
“Filthy little lass,” he says with a smirk. “I think I’d rather try funnel cake of a different flavor, though. Drop those shorts.”
My eyes widen. “I realize I have a tiny bladder, and I’m fine with it being the butt of some jokes, but I’m not pissing in my funnel cake, Aven.”
“What? No! No piss. Ach, come here.” He bands his arm around my waist and pulls me in front of him, wedging me between his firm body and the prep table. “Hand me the rubber spatula and drop your shorts.”
I do as he asks and hand the utensil to him before disrobing below the waist. He picks me up and places my bare ass on the prep table, then places the bowl in my lap.
“Hand that piping bag to me.” He motions with his fingers, and I slide it into his palm.
