Page 92 of Best Served Cold

I shrug. “Maybe. It’s also very possible word will get back to Jonah, so I think we owe it to ourselves to make a full and enduring spectacle.”

“Well, when you put it that way,”

I pull her onto my lap and kiss her. We make out beneath the maple tree, the warm breeze wafting around us, making her hairtickle my arms and face as my lips move with hers, both of us seeking and finding something, it feels like.

Finally we break apart, panting. And the sight of her lips, a deep pink from our kissing, stirs something inside of me. I feel inspired, you could call it.

“What do you say, Soph? Should we make it Facebook official? I’ll text my mom a warning and have a lengthy phone call with her later.”

She grins at me. “Let’s do it.”

I take out my phone. After I send a text to my mother about the favor I’m doing for a friend, I connect my Facebook profile with Sophie’s, adding the photo of us as my profile picture.

“Isn’t that a bit over the top?” she asks, still cradled on my lap, which is causing me a problem she’s got to feel.

“Yes, that’s the point. Let’s rub our love in their faces and hope it feels like sandpaper.” As I say it, I caption the photo:With my girl at the park. Summer lovin’.

Her subsequent laughter has her body bouncing on top of me, and dear God, she needs to move now, because my problem is only getting bigger.

“All right, Pollyanna,” I say, lifting her off and trying to pull my shirt down over the bulge in my pants. No go. I try to think deflating thoughts. “We have work to do. That ten bucks isn’t going to waste itself.”

She laughs. “You want to blow our money?”

“It’s been burning a hole in my pocket since last night.”

Angling her head, she asks, “Do you have plans for it?”

“Oh, I have plans for it.”

Her eyes widen. “We shouldn’t waste it on condoms. I still have the rest of that rainbow strip.”

A laugh escapes me. “Not what I was thinking, but it’s good to know the rebound isn’t over.”

She gives me a long look that has my blood running hot again. Must think more deflating thoughts.Jonah. Patricia’s fake wart. My dad’s dictator coffee shop.“Not for me. You know…if you’re okay with that,” she says.

I get up and hold my hand out to her to give her a boost. “I’m more than okay with that. But, as it happens, I have a different plan for our money. You up for an outing?”

She glances at her shoes, then slips them off one at a time, my gaze riveted to the view as she does it. Carrying them one-handed, she says, “I can hold one of the guitars if you’d like.”

“I’d like,” I say, because the only thing sexier than Sophie barefoot in the grass wearing that dress, with her fuck-me pumps in her hand, would be Sophie holding one of my guitars.

A voice inside suggests this definitely isn’t going to end well, but we’re supposed to be putting on a show, aren’t we? And peoplearewatching. I don’t blame them. She’s a sight to see in that sexy blue dress, her hair loose and flowing, and her eyes bright.

This can’t last, whatever Dottie and her club would like to believe, but it’s a glowing moment. It’s now. And it’sgood.

Maybe that’ll be enough.

The lyrics of a new song start taking shape in my head, humming through my brain.

A beautiful girl who never got her prom…

A stolen moment…

When we reach the parking lot, she slips the shoes on. We tuck the guitars into the back of my Subaru and then climb in.

“Where are we going?” she asks.

I turn the car on so I can crank the air conditioner. Then I shift in my seat to get a better look at her. “You never went to prom. We’re getting you a corsage.”

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