Page 52 of Falling for You

“Of course I knowScooby Doo!It was one of my favorite cartoons. So… please tell me you did not just call me a stoner?”

“Because he’s hungry all the time! I didn’t call you Scooby!”

“If anyone here is Shaggy, it’s you! Do you not remember the plethora of snack foods you brought to my place last night?”

In a rush, the events of last night flood my mind and suddenly all I can remember is the way our lips melded together.

“Do I remember last night? Every,” I rasp, taking a step closer so our bodies are flush, “single,” I cup her cheek, “second.” Brushing my lips lightly against hers, I keep our kiss as PG as possible. We’re in public and based on past experiences, we tend to get carried away once tongues are in the mix. Instead, I give her something to think about. I let my lips linger, giving her an open-mouthed kiss then moving up, kissing her eyelids then her temple and finally, whispering, “In fact, I remembered it when I was alone in my bed after I got home.”

She shivers and I know she gets my meaning.

Is it weird I just admitted I jerked off to the memory of us kissing? Not if her reaction is anything to go by.

“Want to go on a hayrack ride?”

“I suppose,” she sighs.

“Oh, you suppose, huh?” I tweak her side and she bursts out a loud bark of laughter. She’s ticklish. Good to know. I sock that one away in my memory bank for later usage.

Since it’s only four o’clock in the afternoon on a Tuesday, the place is basically deserted so it doesn’t take us long to get onto the hayrack, settling in on a hay bale at the back. She kicks her feet up on the bale next to us and leans her back against my side.

“Comfortable?”

“Incredibly,” she preens.

Man she’s cute. Confident even on a day that she’s struggling not to let the cloud of sadness consume her, she puts on a brave face.

The tractor pulling the hayrack lurches forward. We’re ambling along through a field, bouncing a little as the tires roll across the bumpy ground. There are only a few other people on the ride with us, a couple and their young children. Two little girls with matching braided pigtails. The older of the two keeps eyeing Chloe and me nervously but the younger one looks like she’s a hot minute away from coming over to sit between us.

“What are your names?” she asks us, cupping her mouth and yelling loudly across the hayrack even though she definitely doesn’t need to.

Chloe looks up at me and smiles. “This is Rex and I’m Chloe. What’s your name?”

“My name is Mavis and I’m dis many,” she says, holding up a hand with her five fingers spread wide, “and this is my big sister, Valeria! It’s her big birfday today! She’s dis many!” She exclaims this all loudly, holding up her other hand with three more fingers.”

Next to me, Chloe gasps. “Well,” her voice is shaking and her grip on my fingers tightens, “happy birthday, Valeria.”

“Thank you,” she says much more quietly than her little sister was speaking earlier.

“We’re having tacos tonight!”

“Oh yeah?” I ask, aware that Chloe is experiencing a heavy amount of emotions. “Is that your favorite?”

Valeria nods her head and her parents smile down at her. “She’s obsessed with them,” the mom explains.

“What about cake? Are you going to have cake and blow out candles?”

Her adorable braids whip back and forth as she shakes her head. “I don’t like cake.”

I pull in a dramatic shocked breath. “What? How is that possible? Don’t tell me you don’t like cupcakes either.”

She giggles, still shaking her head. “Nope.”

“Do you have tastebuds?”

She scrunches her pert little nose. “What’s those?”

“The things on your tongue that tell you what’s delicious and what’s yucky.”

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