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“Well, you better save room for funnel cake because I’m not passing that up.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”
We both dive into our spread, not bothering to keep the conversation flowing. I’m too hungry to talk right now. I do, however, watch her from the corner of my eye. She’s eating, and I love that. So many times, women I’ve dated think they can’t eat or be who they really are with me. That’s just wrong on so many levels. You have to eat to live. I’m thrilled to see that she’s enjoying this as much as I am.
“So good,” she says, covering her mouth while she chews. She swallows, takes a hearty sip of the sweet tea, and smiles. “This was the best idea ever. I’m going to have to do this again sometime.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her she can’t come again without me, but I don’t let the words out of my mouth. Instead, I nod, grab a deep-fried pickle, slide it through the cup of ranch dressing, and take a huge bite.
“I’m so full,” she says, finishing off the last bite of her pulled pork sandwich.
“Oh, no, you’ve got funnel cake to eat.”
“You’re going to have to roll me home,” she says dramatically.
“Come on, you. You said you want funnel cake, and we’re not leaving here without it.” I jump off the tailgate and begin to gather our trash. I toss it in the nearby garbage can before going back to her.
“Fine,” she mutters. She might be full, but she wants this.
Stepping closer, I place my hands on her hips and lift her from the tailgate. I know I shouldn’t, but I let her body glide down mine before her feet finally hit the ground. My cock is now hard, and my body is heated, but I ignore it. Instead, I lace my fingers with hers and lead her toward the funnel cake truck.
“Oh, God, they smell so good,” she moans again, and I shift my stance to alleviate some of the evidence of what she does to me. She turns to look up at me. “Can we share one? I really don’t think I can eat it all by myself, and I’m going to want to, so I need you to help me. I need support, Brooks. This is a dire situation.”
I chuckle at her dramatics. Leaning down, I place my lips next to her ear. “I’ve got you, beautiful.” She shivers, an action she can’t hide, and it makes me want to pull her into my arms and kiss the hell out of her. Who am I kidding? Everything she does makes me want to kiss the hell out of her.
Someone bumps into her, and I slide my arm around her waist to steady her. “I’m so sorry,” a woman with two small kids says to us.
“You’re fine,” Palmer says. “You need some help?” she asks the woman. She’s holding one kid on her hip and one by the hand while trying to dig in the bag draped across her chest.
“Do you mind?” the woman asks.
“Not at all. I’m Palmer.” She reaches for the little girl in the woman’s arms. “And who are you?” she asks the cherub.
“This is Nora, and this is Nicholas.” The woman points to the little boy next to her.
“Nicholas, are you excited about a funnel cake?” she asks him.
“Yeah!” The little boy, who looks to be about the same age as Blakely, tosses his little arm in the air and jumps with it.
Palmer laughs, a sweet melodical sound, and it’s not the least bit fake. “Me too.” She points at me where my arm is still around her. I can’t seem to let her go. “My friend here is going to help me eat mine. I’ve already had too much.”
“I have to share with my sister,” he tells her.
“Sharing is important.”
“That’s what my mom says.”
“Well, she’s right. You know moms usually are.”
“Even when I have to wash my hands after I potty?” He tilts his little head to the side and stares up at Palmer as if she holds the answer to every question his little mind can dream up.
“Especially then.”
“Aw, man.” He kicks his foot, and I have to bite my tongue not to laugh out loud.
“Thank you.” The woman wads the money she just pulled from her wallet in her hand and reaches for her daughter.
“Why don’t you go ahead and order? I’ll hold her and walk her to wherever you are sitting.”
