Page 47 of A Fine Line
“Ahh, come on,” He gently patted my lower back until his arms snaked around me, squeezing me to him and up where I was almost in his lap. “If anything it’s to make up from all of the crap I put you through before.”
I sniffed. “I can pay you back after we win the-”
“No, it’s a gift. I meant it when I said you’d be doing me a favor by letting me join. I need to get out of the city for a while anyway,it’s too stuffy. I need a longer trip than just to here. I feel like I can’t breathe anymore. I want to visit this farm you keep talking about.”
I nodded, leaning back to look him in the eyes. Those hazel eyes that pulled me in stronger than any CUTCO knife ever did.
“My family is going to freak out when I say I’m bringing you with me.”
Crew winked. “Good, I can pay you back for what you did at my family dinner.”
“On second thought, yeah you should stay here.”
“Nah, nah, nah. I already got my cowboy hat out and ready, you can’t tell me no now.”
“You didn’t.”
“Oh, I sure did, Winnie girl.”
I profusely thanked him again and again until he all but begged me to stop and when the sun started to fall, he wrapped his hand around mine to guide me through the thick forest. We trailed off to the parking lot, tossing jokes of cowboy hats and line dances all the while he never let our fingers go until right when we had to split ways to get into the car.
“You look ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously hot,” I corrected.
“Nope. Not that.”
I picked Winnie up two hours ago to make sure we got to the airport on time. I’d shown up in cowboy boots—still with tags and already rubbing blisters on my big toe—and my promised cowboy hat. She had begged me to take it off, which only made me more determined to keep it on. Through customs and security, waiting outside our gate with luggage in tow, even while eating a bagel she snuck from the fancy lounge across the way, I kept the hat firmly on my head.
“I can’t take it off now; it’s practically sewn on.” We shuffled down the aisle to our row of seats. I grabbed Winnie’s yellow carry-on and lifted it into the overhead compartment just as she ducked below me to slide into the window seat. I couldn’t even be mad about her snagging the view, especially since her backside brushed against my waist, leaving me speechless. I dipped my hat with a cocky grin and teased, “Don’t act like you don’t like it.”
“I don’t.” She scoffed, turning to the window, watching the crowd load in behind us. “I told you, the city boy thing does it for me way more than…” she glanced back over her shoulder, waving a finger at me, or more specifically, at my hat. “...this whole look.”
“So, you’re saying I look hottest when I’m yelling at pigeons or stressed in traffic?”
She winked. “Precisely.”
“Alright, noted.” I took my hat off and placed it on her lap, covering where her skirt had ridden up a little too high. I shot her a wink in return.
Her cheeks flushed, matching the warmth in mine. I pulled out my phone, pretending like I had anything more important to do than play Spider Solitaire while she stared out the window.
The loose rhythm we had before I showed her my hideaway had shifted, replaced by something new. Something comforting, familiar, but also exciting. Exhilarating, like when she let me taste homemade whipped cream off her finger or purposefully stood under the cabinet I needed to reach, forcing me to lean over her, our bodies pressed together while we both pretended the heat wasn’t enough to burn down the whole kitchen.
Leading up to this trip, we’d been threading a fine line between friendly and something more. And while I wasn’t sure where she stood, I knew one thing for certain: I wanted Winnifred Meadows for myself. And only myself.
I had a lot to make up for from the past few years—more than she did—and despite our agreement to let all that go, I had plans to make it up to her. Somehow, someway, on this trip, I was going to show Winnie I was someone she could rely on. When we got back home, when I’d made things right, that’s when I’d offer her something more.
As soon as we took off, Winnie white-knuckled the armrests. I let my fingers trail lightly over her wrist until her grip loosened.
She’d never mentioned a fear of flying, or maybe it was just the mild turbulence, but I had this growing need to distract her.
“Okay, tell me about your family. I want all the details.”
Her fingers relaxed a little more, and I sighed in relief as she began. “Alright, there’s my grandparents—Nana and Papa. Very old-school, sometimes offensive, so just a heads-up: they might call you a city slicker or something worse.”
I snorted. “Any siblings?”
“Nope, just me, technically. But my cousins and I grew up as neighbors, so they’re basically my siblings.”