Page 27 of A Whim and a Prayer

And you? the thought came. How much you love her too?

His exhale was long and lingering, opening his eyes to the stained-glass window that seemed to speak volumes to his spirit. “Yes, God, open her eyes to that, too, if it’s what You want,” he whispered.” He kneaded the bridge of his nose. “Or at least close mine.”

The chapel door squeaked and he smiled, lounging back in the wood and velvet pew with an arm resting over the back. “Well, I’m all prayed up,” he said with a chuckle, “so now it’s your turn.”

“My thoughts exactly,” a soft voice said, and Beck spun around, caught off-guard when Melissa LaShure slid into the pew next to him with a tiny nibble of her smile. “Because I know exactly what I’m praying for.”

“Melissa, sorry—I thought you were Winnie.”

“Don’t be sorry, Beck—I’m not.” She angled to face him, her arm lighting on the back of the pew like his, her fingers mere inches away. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you ever since Winnie introduced us.”

“About what?” He shifted to face her as well, managing to distance himself in the process. One look at Melissa LaShure had told him all he needed to know. She was a beautiful girl with a beautiful body and knew it. Unlike Winnie who was beautiful, too, but didn’t. Definitely more his type.

Beck seldom paid attention to any girls besides Winnie because he flat-out wasn’t interested. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t read them like he could read his best friend. No, he’d had too much practice with females who were drawn to his reserve, challenged by his disinterest, especially ones that looked like Melissa LaShure. No thanks. At twenty-four, he had enough trouble with his feelings for his seventeen-soon-to-be-eighteen-year-old best friend. He sure in the devil wasn’t interested in getting involved with a teenager in high school, no matter how pretty she was.

“I was talking to Abby after you left, and she tells me you’re planning on law school in the spring. How exciting!”

“Only if I make it,” he said dryly. “And save up enough money.” He leaned back with a casual cross of arms. “So, what did you want to talk about, Melissa?”

A hint of color stole into her cheeks as her fingers toyed with the back of the pew. “Well, you see, I plan to go into the law after college as well, so I thought we could chat about that.”

He laughed and stretched. “Well, I’m not there yet, and neither are you, so I’m not sure there’s a whole lot to chat about—”

“Beck? We’re ready.”

Yeah, me too. He glanced back to see Winnie at the door and almost laughed out loud at the sour look on her face, recognizing the jealousy he always saw whenever women looked his way. His smile went flat as he stood to his feet. Now, if it was just for the right reason …

Tossing the satchel over his shoulder, he extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Melissa. I guess I’ll see you around.”

She shook it, holding on a smidge too long. “Likewise, Beck, and you most definitely will.” Tilting her head with a smile, she nodded to the stained-glass window. “I think I’ll stay awhile and get some prayers in, though, so see you soon.”

Not if I can help it. Moving toward the door, he noticed Winnie was gone and hoped this wouldn’t daunt her good mood because it had been a great audition.

Strolling down the hallway, he spied Abby at the front door. “Where’s Winnie?” he asked, looking behind him to see if she’d gone back to the auditorium.

“Outside. By your car. In a snit.” Her nose scrunched. “What the heck did you say to her anyway? She was in a great mood and then she wasn’t.”

He shook his head and laughed, wondering what in the world she would do if he ever really met a girl he might want to date. He opened the door for Abby. “Not a thing, Abs. Not a solitary thing.”

Chapter Eighteen

“Soooo … how does it feel to finally be eighteen?” Abby applied lipstick and pucker-popped her lips to even it out, gaze flipping to Winnie in the bathroom mirror of the Oceanview Ballroom at Revere Beach.

Winnie glanced at her watch. “Well, not quite yet, Abs—I still have six hours.”

“Oh, you know what I mean. Think of it—by midnight you will be old enough to be in the military, just like Hope and Henry were, so you’re finally legal!”

“Not officially,” Winnie said as she carefully swept her very long—but also very blond—lashes with the brand-new mascara her mother finally allowed her to wear. She glanced at her cousin. “Twenty-one is the official legal age for us, Cuz, so we’re not legally an adult. Which means we still can’t vote or drink.”

Abby gaped in the mirror. “Eww … why would you even want to drink, Winnie? It makes your breath stink as bad as cigarettes, and loopy enough to allow boys to take advantage.”

“I just mean that eighteen isn’t much different from seventeen for me, Abs, since I skipped a grade and have been in the same age group as eighteen- and nineteen-year-olds all year anyway, right?”

“I guess.”

“Besides”—Winnie slathered on a healthy dose of Max Factor’s X-Rated Pink Passion Lip Gloss, pursing her lips to coax the color into balance—“I wouldn’t mind trying a tiny bit of alcohol because heaven knows my mother doesn’t allow it in the house, so I have no idea what all the fuss is about.”

With her face screwed up in distaste, Abby gave a mock shiver. “Trust me, Cuz, it tastes awful.”