Page 37 of A Whim and a Prayer

Chuckling, Grandpa rose and pushed in his chair. “I believe so. A chess rematch since you beat me last time when I had a head cold.”

Winnie flashed a grin, always ready to go head-to-head with Pop in chess. Especially since Henry had taught her all of his tricks. “You bet, Pop, I would love a win on my birthday.”

Pop wrinkled his nose in thought. “Mmm … a cocky eighteen-year-old”—he shot a wink at Henry—“now where have I seen that before?”

Laughter ensued as everyone carried dishes into the kitchen, including Beck.

“Wait!” Winnie grabbed Beck’s arm, a wee bit worried about him in the kitchen with her mother. She bit the edge of her lip. “Promise me you’ll only say good things about me?”

A smile twitched at the edge of his lips. “Only if you promise to be good … and avoid—”

Winnie caught her breath …

“—beating your grandfather in chess like you did the last time.”

Grandpa halted on his way to the door with a swerve of a smile. “Why, thanks for your confidence in me, Beck,” he said in a dry tone, “I can always use the support.”

Beck grinned. “Yes, sir, which is considerable, I assure you, but when she and I play chess?” He wagged a finger between Winnie and him, shaking his head with a hiss of air through clenched teeth, “the girl has been known to cheat, sir, with a crib sheet from Henry tucked up her sleeve.”

“I do not!” Winnie said, mouth dangling. Heat burnished her cheeks as she battled the squirm of a smile. “At least not with my grandfather.”

Grandpa chuckled as he made his way to the parlour, shaking his head. “Good to know, young man, good to know.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Sorry I couldn’t drive you guys tonight.” Beck held the door for Winnie and Abby and several other committee members as they left Cathedral High following the final fundraiser status meeting. Adjusting Winnie’s and Abby’s satchels over his shoulders, he expelled a tired blast of air as they descended the steps to the parking lot, each of them bidding good night to the others while they walked to their cars. “I hope this isn’t becoming a habit—the boss calling for last-minute meetings after work because it’s cramping my style.”

Winnie grinned as she looped arms with Abby, in a particularly good mood since the last of the fundraiser details—the contest, the handbills, concessions, scenery, setup, etc.—were all nailed down and ready to go. All that was left was dress rehearsal on Thursday night, and then the play over the weekend, so Winnie was totally jazzed. “Uh, I hardly call studying into the wee hours of the morning a ‘style,’ Beck, but then you’ve always been a little slow in that area.”

With a flick of his fingers, he casually dropped Winnie’s very heavy satchel onto her shoulder with a thump, almost buckling her at the knees. “Go ahead and mock me, Dennehy, but I’ll remember that the next time you need a ride.”

“I didn’t mock you,” Abby said with a flutter of lashes, “so will you still give me rides, big boy?”

“Any ol’ time you want, Abs”—he ambled over to put Abby’s satchel in the back seat of Winnie’s mother’s car—since her father’s prized roadster was off limits—then grabbed Winnie’s off her shoulder and did the same with it. He turned to tweak the back of Winnie’s neck. “But this one? She’s nothing but pure trouble.”

Winnie flicked his hand away and slammed the back door, nose in the air. “Well, at least I’m pure.”

“Not for long if you keep mooning over the likes of McCarthy, kiddo.”

Winnie spun around with mouth agape. “Oh, low blow, Campbell.”

Beck shrugged, a lazy smile traveling his lips as he opened the passenger door for Abby, who slid in with a chuckle. He closed her door with a wink. “Just a not-so-subtle reminder, Dennehy, that I covered for you once, but it won’t happen again.”

“So you keep telling me.” Unleashing a heavy exhale, Winnie turned on her heel, tossing a listless wave over her shoulder while she circled the car to get in with a grunt. Ever since the night Beck had caught her with Brayden, he hadn’t let up, constantly reminding her that Brayden was nothing but trouble and that Beck aimed to keep her from it. She grunted again as she slammed her door hard. Talk about ‘pure’—pure brainwashing was more like it. Because the bottom line was that Beck may be able to keep her away from Brayden, but he could never keep her away from remembering the thrill of his kiss.

Giving two taps to the roof of the car, Beck offered an off-handed wave as he backed away. “G’night, ladies, drive safe.”

“You too, Beck,” Abby called, hanging out the window to chat some more while Beck walked backwards to his car.

“Yeah, safe,” Winnie muttered under her breath as she reached for her purse to fish out her keys with a slant of a smile—unquestionably Campbell’s middle name! “Now, where on earth is my pur—” Winnie’s head shot up, suddenly remembering she’d left it in the drama room.

Issuing a low groan, she got out of the car and slammed the door.

“What’s wrong?” Beck started walking back.

“I left my purse in the drama room—”

“I’ll get it,” Beck said, but Winnie waved him off.