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CHAPTER EIGHT
Wednesday, June 9
A hand brushessoftly against my shoulder. It’s warm. The touch is so delicate. I hum at the lovely feeling of it against my skin.
“Good morning, Lainey Bird,” I hear a deep voice whisper. The hand repeats the gentle stroking, and I allow one eye to crack open. If this is a dream, I want to keep sleeping. But it’s not a dream. It’s Connor. He’s smiling at me, his hair damp from a shower and falling over his shoulders as he leans down to kiss my temple.
“Hi,” I croak. My voice is thick with sleep.
“How did you sleep?”
“Good. You?”
“Better than I have in a long time. It’s time to get up. We’re headed to Greenville today. I want to be there in time for dinner. I’ve made a reservation at a friend’s place.”
“You’re always feeding me,” I tease, playfully sitting up.
“You’re too thin. How about breakfast?”
“See what I mean.” I slide my legs around his body and scoot to the edge of the bed where he sits beside me. I stand up and stretch and in one quick movement, he has his hands clasped around my waist. He lifts me up and moves me to his lap. His lips and nose nuzzle into my neck.
“I can damn near put my hands around your waist, Little Bird. You weigh nothing. I need you to eat.”
“I will. I admit I’ve been stressed about my job, and I guess eating wasn’t always a priority. But I swear I’ve already gained five pounds since I met you.”
“Good. You’re not going to be stressed. And you’re going to eat.”
He rises from the bed and stuffs something into his one bag.
“You fit everything you need into that one bag?” I nod in the direction of his duffel on the bed while I dig some clothes from one of my two cases I shoved to bursting.
“Guys are easy. Shirts, shorts, shoes, a couple of pairs of jeans.”
I momentarily allow my mind to drift back to our time in the shower after the massage yesterday. And a niggling thought flies through my mind. It’s brief, but it gets me thinking and wondering. That’s never good on an empty stomach without coffee. “Connor?”
“Yeah?” He tugs the zipper closed with a sharp rip and snatches it off the bed.
“Are there condoms in that bag?” My index finger points to it accusingly.
He drops it to the ground and then stares at his feet. His fingers stab through his still-damp hair. “There are.”
I let out a sigh.
“That’s not why I asked you to come with me. It’s just wishful thinking. The boy scout in me wanting to be prepared — in case.” He pulls open the bag and jerks out a box of condoms. He walks them over to where I’m standing and hands them to me.
“You keep them. If we need them, it will be because you have decided we do, OK?”
I take the box from him and drop them into my suitcase. “No expectations?”
“No expectations. But I’m gonna wish on every damn falling star, dandelion weed and wishing well we come to. Just so you know.”
I smile and give him a little grin.
“I’m going to load this stuff up in the RV and order us some breakfast. Meet me outside when you’re ready. No rush.”
He kisses me on the cheek and departs with one of my two bags as I finish packing the other. I vow to repack so I can just bring one case into the hotel on nights when we won’t be sleeping in the camper.
I look into the bag again and see that he’s gotten a large box of condoms. “That’s a lot of wishes, Connor.”
