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Even if I didn’t know why he was against them. Or why I was abiding by his wishes.
Lately, gut instinct was driving my actions straight down the line.
When he shut his eyes in obvious relief, it was my turn to cup his chin. “I don’t know why you’re so set on not making sure we’re covered.”
“I’m not either.”
“Maybe you’re woo-curious too?”
He opened his eyes slowly as a smile curved his mouth. “Maybe. I just think nature should take its course, whatever that may be. But I’m good with condoms.”
“Finally, we agree on something.”
“Oh, Pocket Plus, I’m pretty sure we agree on a hell of a lot.”
ELEVEN
In a matter of days,I’d become a lawless man.
I signed my name to Van’s ticket and slipped it back under her windshield wiper just in case Mr. Tightass—err, Christian—wanted to slap another on there for not moving.
I probably should’ve had her switch to the other side of the street, but the guy was clearly targeting her. Other people had missed the time to swap spaces for odd/even, and she was the only one on the street I’d seen with a ticket.
Granted, she was also the only person driving a mint green school bus with peeling paint and a vinyl rainbow peace sign on the side, but still. Incongruous was not a word meant to describe Vanessa Monaghan—or her vehicles.
We went to Every Line A Story, the newish craft store on Main Street. Surprised to find some woodworking tools in the back of the store, I picked out a cool whittling knife to add to my already healthy collection. Van was happily loading up her basket with yarn and needles small enough my eyeballs wept in sympathy.
The store was eclectic and colorful without being in your face. Each kind of craft seemed to have its own zone. Woodcraft and paper took up the back of the store. Colette, the owner, had several tables of craft books for both kids and adults, and more unique gifts were at the front. She switched up the window with seasonal decor to urge people to come inside. A sewing section with a wall of threads in every color imaginable was tucked along the side, and a sign above an ornate doorway welcomed people to find fiber arts and fabrics on the next floor.
I could tell Van wanted to go upstairs, but she was looking at her armful of sparkling flosses and seemed to mentally check herself from getting more. Now that I understood her a little more with the bus, I figured she was careful not to overbuy for her limited space.
Naturally, we got more than a few speculative looks, especially when she laughed and threw her arms around me at the checkout and I lifted her off her feet. We weren’t even playing to the crowd. At least I wasn’t. She was as light as air, and I’d discovered I liked holding her and possibly imagining all the other ways her size and agility could come in useful.
“I bet you can get in all kinds of positions,” I murmured against her hair as she checked out.
She whacked me in the side. “Pervert!”
She did not use her indoor voice. I wasn’t even sure she had one.
Disguising my delight with her was impossible. And eventually, we both had aching sides from laughter as we carted out her bags and headed down the street to the drugstore. I could feel the weight of the other customers’ stares on my back and absolutely did not care.
We were having fun, something I hadn’t had nearly enough of lately. I had a feeling she hadn’t either.
“I feel like getting condoms is encouragement for your behavior,” she said as we walked side by side down the crowded sidewalk.
Saturday afternoons were always busy, with everyone strolling by the picturesque lake or shopping and grabbing ice cream. Couples walking hand in hand, often pushing a baby carriage.
Hey, this town didn’t hide its proclivities. And neither did I.
I tucked my hand in the back pocket of her jeans as I brushed a kiss over her hair. She turned her head to look at me and our mouths collided, setting off another round of laughter. People gave us a wide berth on the sidewalk, probably suspecting we were drunk or worse, and we stumbled into the drugstore far too loudly.
Especially since we were stopped about five different times by people wanting to say hi, and our purchases were kind of obvious. She let me buy the condoms, and she picked up a bottle of maple-scented shampoo.
At least it wasn’t lube.
Then she tossed a jumbo-sized bottle of Advil on the counter. “Back hurts.”
“I just bet.” The teenager checking us out smirked.
