Page 2 of A Fine Line
“So, you’re into strong southern men then? Cowboys and stuff?”
With her teeth down on her bottom lip, she shook her head and then my smile grew too.
“You’re not trying to save some horses?”
She sputtered a laugh before eyeing my shirt- the one time my laundry is backed up and I couldn’t wear my best Hawaiian shirt today. Instead I was clad in a white Romfuzzled bar tee that I stole from one of my brothers.
“No. I, uh, I’m actually more into city boys.”
Alarm bells started ringing in my head. Was she…flirting back with me? My chest puffed out at the thought. If she was into city boys, I was more than city enough.
“Oh yeah?” I leaned closer.
“Mhmm.” She took a step towards me.
“You should probably know…I work downtown.” I said it in the sexiest voice I could muster.
The strangers lips turned up in a smile before her eyebrows dipped down, she leaned a little closer my way and my whole heart did a backflip in my chest.
“Keep going.”
“I spent thirty minutes in traffic this morning.”
“Mmm.” She hummed and nodded for me to continue.
“I yelled at a pigeon for getting in my way yesterday.” I was actually yelling in fear of running it over, but I left that part out for her sake.
“Wow, dirty talk already? I don’t even know your last name.”
Everything this girl threw at me I watched to catch. Had it ever been this easy talking with a woman? Or anyone off the bat, really?
I smirked down at her. “It’s Wells, baby. I don’t like to share things much but I’d give it to you if you wanted it?”
Color rose on her pale cheeks and just when I thought I pushed her too far, she elbowed my side with a snorted laugh. One that boomed, loud and proud, so unapologetic that I snorted right back. She covered her nose as her fits of giggles spanned out between breaths.
“Twenty four, thirteen!” A thunderous voice called from the window of the hot dog vendor, and my giggly stranger popped up like an eager meerkat.
“Oh, that’s me, hold on.” She laid a hand to my forearm and my skin turned warm where her touch left.
Walking away from me, hips swaying, she grabbed her food from the meaty guy at the window and turned right back my way. She set down two hot dogs on the condiment table by the mustard and put down her crumpled receipt as she grabbed a pen out of the purse hanging from her shoulder.
“Well, how about this, Mr. Wells. I’ll write down my number and next time you need someone to…yell at pigeons with you or,” she smirked at me with these siren eyes, “maybe save a desk chair instead of a horse, I’m your girl.”
My smile immediately wiped off as I cleared my throat and nodded, a little too enthusiastically. “I have a lot of desk chairs that need saving.”
She laughed again, in that bold way that made my palms feel sweaty. “I’m sure you do.” She slipped the piece of paper in my hands before tucking the pen back in her purse.
I looked down at the neatly written note.
Winnifred Meadows. 255-333-0708.
“My friends call me Win,” She tapped the paper in my hands with one nail. “Or Winnie.”
“Like Winnie the pooh?”
“No, please, I get that enough back home.”
I smiled and folded the paper carefully before sticking it in my back pocket. “What about Win, as in Win can I see you again?”