When we’re done, I force myself to yawn. “Been one hell of a long day.”
She nods, lifting a hand to stifle her own yawn and then she reaches for my empty plate. I cover her hand with mine, stopping her. “Leave them. We can do them in the morning. It’s late,” I remind her, standing up and pulling her to her feet in front of me. “Come to bed with me.”
“Your mattress is really comfortable,” she murmurs.
“I’m surprised you noticed,” I laugh. “Every time I wake up there’s more of you on top of me than the mattress.”
“You’re comfortable too,” she says with a pink tint growing on her cheeks. “Is that a complaint?”
“Hell no.” I brush my lips softly against hers again. “I’ll be your human pillow any day of the week, Larry.”
“If you don’t stop with that nickname you will be my human punching bag,” she warns, but I can feel her smile against my chest as I pull her into a hug.
We head down to my trailer, and inside we get ready for bed. She’s still a little tipsy from all the wine she consumed and it’s making her frisky. As we crawl into bed her hands are everywhere. I don’t mind at all, but I’m not having sex with her right now. She’s too vulnerable and too tipsy. So I take her hands and pull them up and out from under the blankets. I kiss both her palms before moving them on my chest.
“Are you turning down sex?” she gasps in an overly dramatic, drunk fashion.
“I’m not turning it down. I’m postponing it,” I explain and she sighs in defeat and nuzzles closer to me, dropping her head onto my chest and draping a leg over my midsection and my rock-hard erection.
“I don’t think that gorgeous dick of yours got the memo,” she mutters and I laugh.
“He’s usually the last to know,” I reply and run a hand through that long, silky magical hair of hers, which isn’t going to help that erection die anytime soon, but I can’t help it. “And I don’t think he’s ever been called gorgeous before.”
“You have a history of being underappreciated,” she says sleepily. “We’re going to change that.”
“We are, are we?” I can only assume this is the alcohol and exhaustion causing this conversation so I’m trying really hard not to take it to heart even though, damn, she’s drunkenly saying everything I wanted to hear for a very long time.
“Mmm…,” Winnie coos, definitely on the brink of sleep. “You’re a good man now, Holden Hendricks. I think maybe you always were. People will see it. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Winona Skye Braddock, my own personal superhero,” I joke and tenderly press my lips to the top of her head.
“You know my middle name?” she whispers. “Stalker.”
I chuckle but don’t bother to explain I saw it on that letter I almost accidentally threw out. The one she won’t tell me about. I close my eyes and concentrate on the soothing tickle of her breath against my chest. And then, when I think she’s already asleep she lets out a long sigh and says, “Your mom would be proud of who you’ve become.”
Fuck, this girl is everything. I am never letting her go.
17
Winnie
I take a big breath and swing open the door to Cannon’s Corner Grocery. The bells jingle above my head, and Cat looks up from where she’s sitting on a stool behind the counter, reading the Portland Herald. Her expression remains passive, which I realize is a very bad sign. I’ve known her since I was four years old and she’s never been anything but bold, bright and expressive.
“Cinnamon buns are fresh. Coffee is too. Just brewed a new pot,” she says in a monotone voice and looks back down at the paper.
I walk over and lean on the counter, peering up at her desperately. “Come on, Cat. Let me have it.”
She sighs and closes the sports section. Her blue eyes are filled with confusion. “I don’t get it. You hated him most of all when we were kids. Up until he robbed me, I was actually the one trying to convince you he wasn’t so bad. But you were right. He was bad. He is bad.”
I shake my head. “No, he isn’t. Not anymore. Now he’s just a guy trying to turn his life around, and he’s succeeding.”
Cat’s bold red lips curve downward. “He’s always been great at pretending to be what you want him to be. I know you’re going through a lot, Win, but I thought you’d see through that.”
“I would if he was playing me, but he’s not,” I argue. I stand up again and sigh. “Look, Cat, I can’t and won’t sell you on him. I know who he is, and I trust him and I like him. A lot. He doesn’t have to prove anything to me anymore.”
She stands up and walks over to the counter, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “Sorry, Win, but I don’t think he can prove anything to me. I’m not buying what he’s selling. But I adore you and I don’t want this to impact our friendship.”
“Good. Neither do I,” I agree and reach over the counter and grab her arms, forcing her to uncross them and hold my hands. “So please, can we agree to disagree right now? Eventually though, I will try to make you see what I see. I’m hoping I don’t even have to try and you just see it yourself.”
