Page 13 of One Little Kiss
“Wendalyn and Weston, actually.”
“Weston?”
“That’s his name,” she says, barely containing theduhintonation in her words.
“He would fit right in with my family,” I remark darkly.
“Oh yeah? Why’s that? The blond hair and obscenely good looks?”
Fuck me. I like knowing Winnie thinks I’m good looking.
“That,” I say gruffly, “and his name. My brothers’ names are Preston, Easton, Halton, and Ashton. My father’s name was Clinton. There’s kind of a theme.”
“That’s atonof boys for sure.” She giggles, and it makes my chest itch, but I chuckle along with her.
“It’s definitely a ton of boys.” My stomach growls, and I glance at my watch. “We need to find some food before everything closes.”
Winnie’s body shrinks slightly at my words. I immediately hate it. Reaching into her bag, she pulls out some granola bars. “I’m all set, but don’t let me keep you.”
I place my hands on my hips and give my best Sylvie Westbrook impersonation. No one pushes food quite like my mother, and no one says no to her.
“Want to play a game, Winnie?”
“What kind of game?” she challenges. Her competitive spark speaks to my soul.
Well shit. I didn’t think this through. I examine our surroundings to buy myself a few seconds as a plan forms.
“What time’s your flight tomorrow?”
Her eyes dart everywhere but on me. She’s nervous around me. Rightly so. I’m still technically a stranger, but hopefully not for long.
“Ten,” she finally admits. “What time is yours?”
Chuckling, I shake my head. “I have no idea.”
“What? How do you not know? Where are you going?” She’s truly in shock at my indifference to my travel plans.
“I’ve been preoccupied. It’s not the end of the world if I catch a different flight. For some reason, the only thing that mattered tonight was getting to know you.”
“Charmer,” she murmurs.
“Would it make you feel better if I checked?”
She furrows her brow, and her teeth sink into the right corner of her bottom lip. I widen my stance because staring at those lips makes me want to sink my own teeth into them and my lower anatomy is behaving like a teenage boy.
Tearing my gaze away, I pull out my phone and open the American Airlines app on my phone. When I see ten a.m. as my flight time, those hornets in my chest buzz again.
“I’m going to Puerto Vallarta, at ten a.m. Where are you going, Winnie?”
Her eyes widen in surprise, and I have my answer.
“Maybe you’ll meet your Wendy.”
The memory of GG’s words startles me.
“Flight 1918. American?” she asks quietly.
Relief and fear fight for top billing in my emotional storage closet right now, but I push them both aside.
