Page 44 of A Whim and a Prayer

What’s up? Winnie swallowed hard. That would be my supper … rising from fear-induced indigestion in both my stomach and my heart. She placed a hand over her abdomen. “Upset stomach … I think from all the excitement.”

Beck leaned forward to give Winnie a sideways smile. “You were great, Winnie—a real pro. Which really helped me to get into the role of Frank completely.”

Her throat convulsed. And then some …

“I have Tums in the glove compartment if you need them, Pooh,” he said, his voice so natural and normal and caring … and so Beck.

“Thanks, but I just need to get home and go to bed.” She chanced a peek his way, then caught her breath when her stomach took an immediate tumble. Jerking her gaze straight forward, she commenced to skimming her arms once again while goose bumps pebbled her skin.

This cannot be happening!

Abby patted Winnie’s knee. “Obviously a case of too much excitement, Win. If I’d been through what you have tonight, I’d be a little queasy too.”

Oh, Abs, you have no idea …

Beck reached over Abby’s shoulder to tweak Winnie’s neck. “If it wasn’t so late, I’d suggest Robinson’s to celebrate a great rehearsal—”

“No!”

“Yes!” Abby said, her response colliding with Winnie’s.

Heat engulfed Winnie’s face. “I mean, you guys can go, but I’m just not up to it.” She squeezed Abby’s hand. “I’m sorry for being such a killjoy.”

“Forget it, Win,” Beck said as he nudged the blinker to turn onto Abby’s street. “It was a bad idea because we all need to go home and get some decent sleep. Lots coming up the next two days.”

Winnie bit her lip. Yes, I know. Including more kisses …

“Okay, thanks for the ride, Beck.” Abby gave his arm a light pat before she scooted out of the car while Winnie silently stood, waiting. “And I’ll say one for you, Win,” she said with a tight hug, “that you’re back to normal in the morning.”

Oh, if only …

“Thanks, Abs—appreciate it.”

Abby jogged to her front door with a backward wave and all at once, Winnie wished she were going with her. Expelling a silent sigh, she slid back in the car and closed the door, butting as close to the handle as she possibly could. She feigned interest in Abby’s front yard as she waited for Beck to put the car in gear.

He didn’t.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked, facing him with brows in a bunch. “I’m tired and I want to go home, Beck.”

“In good time, Winnie.” He angled to face her while the car rumbled in place. “We need to talk.”

“Here?” Winnie’s gaze darted to the windows of Abby’s house and back, brows shot high. “Are you crazy? Aunt Faith will think we’re parking, for pity’s sake.”

“Well, we are parked, so that would be correct, Dennehy.”

“You know what I mean, Campbell”—she flung an arm, motioning toward the house as she gave him a scowl, over-enunciating to get her point across. “Park-ing!”

The edge of his lip tipped up, drawing her gaze to his full mouth—the same mouth that had dominated hers in the play. “Oh, you mean necking …”

Heat swallowed her whole as she stared straight ahead with a clamp of her jaw, arms in a tight fold. “Yes, for pity’s sake, so can you please take me home? Now?”

“Sure, kiddo. If you promise not to bolt from the car when I put it in park because whether you like it or not, Winifred Dennehy, we need to talk.”

“Fine.” Her arms stiffened, like a barrier to her waist.

Pause. “You mean, ‘fine, I promise not to bolt, Beck,’” he emphasized with a dip of his head.

She seared him with a thin look out of the corner of her eyes. “Fine—I promise not to bolt, Campbell.” She averted her gaze straight ahead once more.