Page 17 of A Whim and a Prayer

Beck glanced at his watch. “It’s after nine-thirty, Pooh—I doubt your parents want you out too late on a school night.”

Winnie gave him a pinch before skipping ahead, turning around to walk backwards. “I swear, Campbell, you’re worse than my mother.” She wrinkled her nose. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s paying you to keep tabs on me.”

Ambling toward the door, he shrugged, offering a lazy smile. “What can I say, it’s good gas money.”

Abby giggled. “I know. Mine sure comes in handy for albums and clothes.”

Grinning, Winnie dismissed them with a nose in the air, sashaying toward the exit to hold the door for them both with a fake scowl. “You two are real funny, you know that? For your information, Daddy said I could go to Robinson’s if I get home before midnight, overruling Mama’s ten-thirty curfew, so take that. Besides,” she said, “my mother doesn’t run my life, you know.”

“Ha!” Abby hooked an arm over Winnie’s shoulder as Beck just shook his head. “And don’t we know it!”

Chapter Eleven

Winnie clunked her spoon on the table and shoved the empty sundae glass away with a groan, clinking it against her empty hamburger platter. Sagging against the red-leather, high-backed booth of Robinson’s Diner, she plopped her head back and closed her eyes. “I feel like I’m ready to pop. Why did you guys let me eat so much?”

Beck grunted, always amazed at how much food she could put in that petite body of hers. “As if we could stop you.” His tone was droll as he reached for the bill, studying it with a shake of his head. “You are so expensive, Dennehy.”

“But so worth it, right?” Those blue eyes flashed open with a sassy wrinkle of her nose before she sat straight up with a hint of concern in her voice. “Wait—I can pay for it, Beck, if you don’t have enough.”

“Save it, kiddo.” He fished several bills out of his wallet with a lop-sided smile. “You’re gonna need it since your mom froze your allowance again.”

Abby leaned in to stare at Winnie with a slack of her jaw. “Again? Geez Louise, Dennehy, what’d you do this time?”

A long-winded exhale left Winnie’s lips as she reached across the table for Abby’s half-finished shake. “Absolutely nothing.”

“I doubt that,” Beck said with a chuckle, aware her allowance had been frozen, but she wouldn’t tell him why.

Abby promptly snatched her shake back. “You’re ready to pop, remember?” She moved it further out of Winnie’s reach. “So, what was it this time? Sneaking out again?”

Winnie shook her head vehemently, curls bouncing along with it. “Are you kidding? I learned my lesson on that when she made me fold everyone’s laundry for a solid month and put it away.” She shivered. “I just hate laundry.”

“Me too,” Abby said, “but at least you can pay Julia to do it for you like usual.”

“No she can’t.” Leaning back leisurely with an arm over the booth, Beck took a drink of his water, tone matter-of-fact. “Her mom’s forbidden Julia to do either homework or chores for Winnie, paid or unpaid. And unlike some people we know”—he lifted a mock toast to Winnie with a wry smile—“Julia does what her mother says.”

Winnie seared him with a fake scowl, and he grinned, teasing his best friend one of his favorite pastimes.

Abby’s smile took a swerve. “Sounds like Bella.” She bent in with arms folded on the table. “So, come on, Win, spill it—what’d you do this time to get a money freeze?”

Winnie’s chin tipped up in self-defense. “Hardly anything, I swear.” Her shoulders gave a lift of dismissal as she toyed with the edge of her napkin, avoiding their eyes. “I borrowed one of her cashmere sweaters is all—”

“Without asking?” Abby stared in disbelief. “After she warned you about that from the last time?”

“Yeah, but this time I thought she wouldn’t know if I just washed and dried it and put it back.” She slumped in the booth with a chew of her lip. “Who knew cashmere shrinks in the dryer?”

Abby’s jaw dropped, accompanied by Beck’s chuckle. “Uh, me?” she said.

“And me,” Beck added, shaking his head at how little Winnie knew about domestic chores. But then her mother didn’t trust her, so he supposed she did most of the complex things herself.

“Well, I didn’t, so I …”—she peeked up with a sheepish tug of her lip—“hid it in my drawer and she found it.”

“A-ha! Thievery compounded by cover-up—not smart, Winifred.” Beck tweaked one of her curls before he picked up the check, leaving his tip on the table. “When are you going to learn to fly straight, Pooh? I guarantee your life would go a lot better, especially with your mother, if you did.” He nudged Abby out of the booth. “It’s late—let’s get out of here.”

“Winnie?” All three froze and looked up at the sound of a deep male voice. A groan trapped in Beck’s throat at the sight of Brayden McCarthy, the skirt-chaser who Winnie had had a crush on since her sophomore year.

Beck shot a glance at her now, and his jaw automatically tightened.

She was glowing like the blasted full moon, blue eyes wide with excitement and lovestruck to the core. Her cheeks radiated a pretty shade of pink that only enhanced her delicate ivory skin as her palm trembled to her chest. “Brayden! Hello …” Her voice trailed off into an adoring whisper.