18
Frankie
The sun burnedhot on this late spring day, and it felt like all of the town was out. It didn’t matter that I’d been in Sandia almost two years. It still surprised me to be recognized by locals as “George’s granddaughter” or “the woman from Brooks’ Baubles and Books.” I hadn’t expected several people to come chat with me, especially with a mega-star standing, head tucked at my side. But the fresh air and sunshine—and probably the wine—made me chatty and friendly. It was nice to see this social part of myself again. More surprisingly, not a single person recognized Harrison. One guy stopped him but only to ask where he got his kettle corn from, and as he walked away, “Hank” made a show of winking at me.
We went from vendor to vendor, trying various nearby wineries until the sun started to make me feel woozy—and probably the wine. Harrison had stopped drinking his samples a few vendors back. He’d either spit out the taste or give them to me instead. I honestly couldn’t tell any of them apart at this point.
“Wine is so good,” I said, hanging onto his arm as we walked. “I don’t know why I thought I didn’t like it.”
“We might have to reevaluate that sentiment tomorrow,” he said with a smile.
I loved this smile that he used with me. Like I was doing something especially charming when I was only being myself.
“They really shouldn’t have a wine festival on such uneven ground. Seems like a liability.” My short wedge sandals were unstable in the grass field. I leaned further against him. It felt so nice. A little voice told me that I might regret all the touching tomorrow, but I told her that Frowny Frankie was off duty today.
“I’ll write a strongly worded letter to the event organizers,” he said.
“Tell them there needs to be more free water stations too. Oh! There’s Brooks. You remember her?” I tugged him toward her table, where there was a decent crowd.
He stumbled as I dragged him to follow.
“See. Uneven,” I said.
“Right.” He chuckled, but I wasn’t sure what about that was funny.
“Brooks!” I whisper-yelled. “Broooooks!”
Several people in her line turned and looked at me. Harrison ducked his head, shoulders shaking.
Brooks’s eyes went wide. “You came!”
“My friend,Hank, made me. We’ll talk later,” I called back. She looked back and forth between us, and I winked. She shook her head, and next to me, Harrison gestured something to her that I was too slow to catch.
She laughed but finally caught on to my subtle message. “Nice to meet you, Hank. Talk later, Frankie!”
We took a break to wander under a tent with misters to cool off. Despite the sun hat, my exposed shoulders were growing pink and freckly.
Joey got the genes that made her glow after time in the sun. I got the genes that made people concerned I needed a doctor, I turned so red in the heat. Harrison pressed a finger into my shoulder, leaving a white impression on the warm skin. As if we just touched each other freely all the time. I guess Ihadbeen a little touchier than normal today. “You need sun lotion,” he said with that same soft smile on his features.
I wanted him to check my body all over for sunburn.
Frick, frack, fruck. This was why wine was dangerous. I was a thirsty bird.
“This is with sunscreen.” I tugged off my hat to fan myself, giving no figs about how flat my sweaty hair may look. I leaned back, head against the cool metal pole holding up the tent. I felt a tiny trickle of sweat fall from the strands of my hair and into my cleavage. When I opened my eyes, Harrison was watching that droplet like he hadn’t seen fresh water in months.
He glanced away and back again.
Men.
I pretended not to notice but arched my back, pushing out my breasts, fully under his gaze.
Women.
“I need it not to be so warm,” I added. “And maybe four to seven less samples of wine. I forget how quickly it adds up.”
I was not thinking clearly. I was thinking with wine-saturated lady bits. Lady bits who had been wandering the desert for years …
“I’ll get you some water.” He glanced at my cleavage again, then furrowed his brow and spun away quickly.
