Page 83 of Beaches, Bagels & Babes
“Yeah,” Daisy agreed in a puff of breath. “My turn.”
Dropping her spoon, Daisy took hold of the hand Candace used to steady her cone. She stole both towards her mouth. From the edge of the cone to the curled, soft-serve tip, she drove a deep divot into the cream with her tongue. She slurped up her spoils at the top, locked with Candace’s gaze the whole time.
It was more than she intended to take, but Candace didnot seem to mind. She looked at Daisy with the same kind of hunger.
“Yours might win,” Daisy admitted as she released her grip and thumbed a drip from her chin.
“I thought you weren’t a fan of sweets.”
“I never said that. To be honest, I have a real bad sweet tooth. I thought they weren’t good for me, so I tried to stay away. But I’m through with that.”
Flushing, Candace looked down at her feet dangling over the fresh, fragrant cedar wood mulch.
“You should listen to your instincts. Everyone knows sugar is bad.”
It was her Candy voice, airy and filled with disaffected humor. Meant to brush off the emotions building so steadily between them. Yet, Daisy knew Candy was not Candace. The persona was as much an act as it was an armor.
So, Daisy thought as realization dawned on her.That’s what it is.
Candace was afraid of hurting Daisy again. The hesitance, the distance, was not because she wanted it, but because she thought it was for the best.
Daisy would have to prove to her it wasn’t.
Thrusting off the swing, Daisy downed the rest of her ice cream and tossed the cup in a nearby trash can. Under the buzzing streetlamp, she faced Candace with her arms crossed.
“Screw everyone else. I know what I want. Winner buys.”
Those big, bright eyes blinked with confusion. “... Winner?”
Daisy grinned. In a challenging tilt, she ticked her head towards the mini golf stand. “You don’t think I can handle my sugar? Seems to me, the only way to settle this is with a game. Pick your putter and get ready to lose.”
Candace hesitated. In a slow stream, what was left of her ice cream began to drip from her cone. Cursing, she devoured the whole thing in monstrous, gaping bites.
“Fine. But wipe that smirk off your face. You’re going down.”
“Really? Don’t tempt me with a good time.”
As it turned out, Candace was telling the truth. She was a mini golf pro once she shook the rust off after the first couple of holes. Daisy, not so much. By the time they reached the trickshot windmill at the midway point, things were looking dire. Daisy wildly misjudged her swings, over or underpowering each hit. Granted, the last time Daisy went mini golfing, she was the same age as the young, cranky kids being shuffled away from their final fun activity of the night. Even so, she thought she would be able to hold her own.
The counterperson yelled at her, “It’s putt-put, not the PGA!”
Daisy and Candace both broke into laughter, which made aiming even more difficult. Win or lose, Daisy did not care. Candace’s joy, seeing her at ease, was the best prize. They came to the last hole and started a whole new game with a declaration of “best two out of three.”
It was late by the time they finished their victory ice creams. Daisy and Candace were left alone while the place closed up for the evening, with the sound of cicadas chattering in the wooded backdrop. It would have been the perfect moment to “woman-up” as Norman advised and make her move. Yet, she decided to wait. Planning was Candace’s forte, but Daisy wanted to do this right.
As they walked back to the Comfort Clam, Daisy noticed that Candace seemed nervous. She unlocked the door with a hitched breath and stood there, blocking them both from entering.
Daisy said, “What’s the prob–”
Oh.
A smirk curled Daisy’s lips. It was hard to keep things PG when there was only one bed. She sauntered forward, ducking around Candace, and flopped down like she owned the place. Ancient mattress springs protested every movement. She could only imagine what it would sound like if they actually put the bed to work. As it was, she patted the place beside her.
“Unless you’re gonna sleep there, that is.”
Without turning on the lights, Candace latched the door andmade her way to the bed. Ambient motel fluorescents broke through the curtain panels and, turning her into a fidgeting silhouette. She offered, “Um, I have pajamas you can borrow, or—”
Stripping down to her bralette and bottom briefs, Daisy asked, “How’s this? Nude sleeping is the way to go, but I can keep some propriety for your delicate sensibilities.”
