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“Yes, you’ll be driving in no time.” I laughed as she glared at me.
“Go away, Ian.”
“Fine,” I stood and brushed the sand off my shorts. I had better things to do, a Sega game on pause. She spoke before I’d taken my first step away from her.
“She’s so mean.”
“What did she do?”
“She found some Twinkies I snuck into my room and she went crazy.”
“I’m sure she didn’t mean whatever she said.”
“That I was going to get fat? And that nobody thought much of a fat person because they looked like they had no self-control and that made them weak.”
“Jesus,” I sighed. “They are just Twinkies.”
“Tell that to her,” she said choking on another sob.
I squat down in front of her. “I just so happen to have some banana pops at my house. So much better than Twinkies, want one?”
“I can’t, I’ll be spanked.”
“You’re getting too big for spankings. And no one needs to know but us.” I held out my hand. “Come on, puffer fish.”
She looked up to me. “Don’t make fun of me for crying.”
“Never.”
“Okay.” She grabbed my hand and I sat her on my parents’ couch with a banana pop.
An hour later, I had to scrape her off the ceiling. As it turned out, she didn’t do well on sugar, probably because she was raised on a lack of it. Giving her those banana pops had been like giving her speed, but her smile had been worth it. The same smile she wore now as she collapsed on her back with the puppy in her arms before moving her gaze toward the sea.
I would have given anything in that moment to be kissing her breathless, before sinking between her legs on that sand. I closed my eyes tight as I imagined those legs wrapped around me while I slid my tongue against hers.
She sat up as if she’d heard my thoughts and glanced toward the house. I was sure she couldn’t see me staring at her through the screen. Resigned that acting on my desire for her was still a terrible idea, I made my way to the bathroom just as my screen door creaked open and seconds later heard the pitter patter of Disco’s feet.
I GRIPPED THE PHONE TO my ear while being browbeaten by the person on the other end of the line. “I paid for the rental months ago.”
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Tartar. We’ve arranged for you to stay—”
“I’m not having it, I’ll just cancel the whole trip.”
“I don’t want you to do that,” I pleaded, glancing at Jasmine, helpless. “Please just let me speak to the tenant at the property. I’m sure we can work it out.”
“I want an answer within the hour. I’ve been planning this trip for months!”
“I completely understand. You’ll have it.”
I hung up the phone and let out a breath of frustration. “Do not book the Kemp house anymore until we know how long he’s staying. I have to somehow get him to a hotel.”
“Is he still pissing and moaning?” Jasmine asked, looking up at me from her computer.
“Nope, I mean yes and no. He’s come a long way in only a month. He’s gotten some sun. He’s lost some weight. He loves Disco and he takes long walks with her. He’s no longer catatonic and doesn’t live in darkness, I would say that’s progress.”
Jasmine pulled her ridiculously thick hair through the tie on her wrist. “How observant of you.”
“It’s my job,” I defended. “And he’s a really nice man.”
