Page 68 of A Whim and a Prayer

He chuckled. “And now closer yet because of the play.”

“Yes,” Winnie whispered, a sudden chill pebbling her skin.

“Cold?” Pop reached for his cardigan off the back of the chair, and Winnie gladly accepted, snuggling into the calming scent of Pop after he helped her put it on.

“I love Beck, Pop, I do—but only as a friend. Unfortunately, after those kisses, he doesn’t feel the same.”

“Ah … I see. He wants to date, but you don’t.”

She turned to face him with wide eyes. “No, Pop, I don’t, but he’s convinced that I’m attracted to him, so he’s been pushing to move our wonderful friendship into something more.” A second chill whispered down her spine and she wrapped Pop’s sweater even closer.

Pop gave a slow nod. “Yes, I can see where he might think that after those kisses, darlin’, because you didn’t just convince him, you convinced everyone in the audience too.”

Winnie sagged back against Pop’s shoulder, unwilling for him to see the lie in her eyes. “Pure acting, Pop—you know how good I am at that.”

A low chuckle escaped from his mouth. “Yes, I do, darlin’. Including convincing yourself that you’re not attracted to that boy.”

She jerked up to face him with brows digging low. “I don’t want attraction, Pop—I want the friendship that we had and nothing more. Whose side are you on anyway?”

He reached to lift her chin with the pads of his fingers, eyes warm with concern. “Yours, darlin’. Yes, I see deep, deep friendship, Winnie, but I also see deep, deep fear, and fear is never the right reason for a course of action.”

She looked away.

“You say you love Beck, but there’s no greater roadblock to love, darlin’ than mistrust.”

She whirled to face him once more. “I trust Beck, Pop—with my life!”

He palmed the side of her face with affection. “I wasn’t talking about him, darlin’.”

Winnie blinked. “What are you talking about then?”

He sat back and tugged her closer. “I’m talking about you—not trusting yourself.”

“Oh, Pop, you’re crazy—I’m the one that’s keeping things on level ground, not Beck.”

“Yes, and why is that, I wonder?”

“Because I’m comfortable with things the way they are.” Frustration blustered from her lips in a noisy huff. “For crying out loud, Pop, why do things have to change?”

“Because, darlin’—love has a mind of its own—you can’t tell it what to do.”

“No, but I can tell Beck what to do—by giving him the space and time to get over this silly infatuation so we can get our friendship back to where it was.” She punctuated her intent with a firm nod and a stiff cross of arms, her mind made up. “And that’s what I intend to do.”

She peeked at her grandfather out of the corner of her eye with a sudden scuff of her lip. “And I’m hoping that you can help me.”

Chapter Forty-Five

Lord, have mercy. Patrick O’Connor stared at his granddaughter with a patient look, the calm in his face at odds with the cramp in his gut. “And just how would I be able to do that, darlin’?”

She whirled to face him, the eagerness in those wide blue eyes reminding him so much of the little girl she used to be. Patrick’s mouth compressed the slightest bit. And, unfortunately in many ways, still was …

“Pop, I need to start dating other boys so Beck will let this infatuation fantasy go.”

Patrick studied her through a fresh puff of smoke, lips crooked in humor. “I thought you were, darlin’, and have been as I recall, since you turned sixteen.”

She waved his comment off as if it were a speck of lint brushed from her shoulder. “Not little boys, Pop, like the high school boys I’ve dated in the past.” Her mouth went flat. “I’m not attracted to them, at least not for long. Besides, that was high school and I’m in college now, but you sure wouldn’t know it the way Mama keeps me on a tight leash.”

“Ahhh … I see.” Patrick gave a slow nod as another lazy curl of smoke drifted into the air. “So the problem isn’t so much Beck as it is your mother’s tight rein, which hinders your ability to put distance between you and your best friend romantically.”