28. Wooden Ducks & Wood
Chapter 28
Wooden Ducks it’s borderline unfair. Unfair to my willpower. Unfair to our situation. Unfair.
I walk behind her, wrap her waist into my arms, and bury my nose in her soft ginger hair, kissing at the base of her freckled neck until I see goose bumps spark over her skin.
“What are you doing?” she asks on a nervous laugh.
“Something I can’t do in Never Harbor.”
I dip my hands into the back pockets of her jeans, grabbing an ass full in my palm. The little squeak she makes in return is enough to make the inappropriate public gesture worth it.
I expect her to walk away. I don’t know why. I should know her better at this point. Bonnie doesn’t back down from a fight.
Bonnie pushes her ass back, grinding herself against my crotch. I hiss in a breath, and all the blood in my body rushes toward my needy cock.
“Two can play at that game,” she says.
I groan into her ear, “You’re in trouble now.”
“Try me, Rafe,” she counters. “I’ll make sure everyone knows that I’m your … what do they call it? Your booth babe .”
“Booth babe?” I ask.
“You’re telling me you’ve never heard that term?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I thought it was booth bitch ?”
She blushes a deep red, almost making her freckles disappear.
I win.
I lean in, whispering in her ear, “Oh, you like that, don’t you? Dirty girl.”
A throat clears to our left.
The artist in the booth beside us—some mustached guy selling carved wooden ducks—raises his bushy gray eyebrows to his forehead, looking far too disappointed in me.
Unfortunately for him, I garner no respect for older men. My father made sure of that.
I grin and explain, “Sorry. She’s my booth bitch.”
Bonnie giggles. “I’m his booth bitch.”
The man is offended the rest of the day. I take great pride in that. Bonnie, however, being a better person than me, doesn’t let me grope more than a simple squeeze of her thigh under the table. The moment my palm wanders between her warm legs, she pushes it away with a grin.
I would probably make more sales if I wasn’t distracted by her so much. In fact, when she leaves to get us sandwiches from a booth one aisle over and I actually make an effort to talk to shoppers, I sell one of my bigger canvases.
Oh well. Messing with Bonnie is worth it to lose a couple of sales today. We’ve only got one month of summer left. I’m enjoying her company while I can.
A little after lunch, someone places a print in plastic on the counter. It doesn’t have a sticker on the packaging. “How much is this one?”
Bonnie blinks at the print. Her eyebrows tilt in. “Wait, what is this?”
I ignore her. “It’s thirty.”
“ Thirty ?” Bonnie balks, grabbing the print and shaking her head. “No, sorry, this isn’t for sale.”
“Yes, it is,” I say, tugging it back. “Thirty.”
The woman stares between us, then down at the print—a skeleton with a violin. It’s Bonnie’s favorite piece that she re-created on her iPad. I emailed it to myself, blew it up in a large print, and discreetly packed it for today. She didn’t have to know.
“I mean, if it’s not for sale …” the woman says slowly.
“It is,” I insist.
Bonnie anxiously taps on the table, looking somewhere else—maybe in the wooden-duck-man’s booth, who refuses to make eye contact back.
Hesitantly, in our awkward silence, the woman digs cash out of her pocket, counts it out, then hands it to me.
“Enjoy,” I call as she leaves.
But instead of putting the profit in the cashbox, I hand it directly to Bonnie. She closes her fist around it with a shaking hand.
“When did you put that out there?” she asks quietly.
“When you were getting us lunch,” I say. “What, you think I didn’t offer to get sandwiches for us because I’m an asshole? I had a surprise to coordinate.”
She blinks to herself, and any happiness I felt starts to melt away.
“You did think I was being an asshole. Sorry, I thought you’d be excited.”
“I am,” she finally says, her lips tipping up into a smile. “And you’re not an asshole. I just … why would you do that?”
“To prove your art is worth selling,” I say. “I put it out there only fifteen minutes ago, and it already got snapped up faster than any of my shit.”
I place my palm on her thigh, rubbing down to her knee and giving it a quick squeeze.
“Was that all right?”
“Yes,” she says.
Her eyes look glossy, and my chest tightens at the thought that maybe I made her cry. Instead, she kisses my cheek. I tense at the closeness.
“Thank you,” she says. She folds her fingers through mine, holding my hand tighter than she has before.
The rest of the afternoon passes like any other art show, except for the delightful laughter of Bonnie to enjoy. I sell most of my items, make decent coin, and all of my business cards disappear by the time the streets are roped off again to allow vendors to break down.
Bonnie tackles folding up table decor, and I tuck any remaining art into boxes. It’s nice to have some help. I’d never admit that to Izzy—God, she’d never let me live it down—but seeing Bonnie’s determined face as she loads up additional branding she brought has me grabbing her hand and pulling her into my chest once more.
I can’t keep my hands off her. It’s addictive, and I know we’ll have to be careful back in Never Harbor, but for now, I’m drowning in every moment of this rare reality.
Bonnie’s phone vibrates in her back pocket, and I tug it out for her.
“It’s Milo,” I announce. “And Lulu,” I add.
She takes the phone from me and unlocks it. She sighs. “They asked me when I’m coming home.” She clicks it closed again. “Sometimes, I swear they have the same mind.”
Yeah, the mind that says, Danger, danger, a man is corrupting the sweet girl you love.
“They’re probably just worried about you,” I say.
She smirks and kisses my cheek again. I tense a little less this time. Maybe she’s realized that’s a safe space. Kissing on the cheek is so cheesy, and I’m obsessed with it.
“They shouldn’t be worried about me,” she says. “I’m safe with you.”
“It’s fine if they are worried. I’d understand. Being Big Bad Wolf and all.”
I pinch her side, and she gasps.
There’s another grunt in the booth beside us, and I swear if I hear one more word out of that man next to us, I’m gonna yank his tablecloth off—wooden ducks and all.
Before he can say anything, my pocket starts to buzz.
I sigh and pull out my phone. “Don’t move.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
I place the phone to my ear without looking. I assume it’s Izzy, but I am quickly proven wrong.
“Hey, baby.”
I pause in place at my mom’s voice. “Oh. Hey, Mom.”
“You don’t sound excited.”
I clear my throat, running a hand through my hair. I take a couple of steps off to the side for some makeshift privacy. “Uh, yeah, I’ll be sure to yell with joy next time. What’s up? I thought you were working?”
“I left early! I wanted to have dinner with you, so I just called it a day.”
My heart couldn’t deflate any more if I stabbed it with a knife. I tap my fingers on the side of the tent’s plastic leg. “You … did?”
“I’m still not hearing excitement,” she singsongs.
“No, I am. I am. Just …” I peer over at Bonnie, who, exactly as I commanded, hasn’t moved an inch—complete with an arm still in the same position, like I’m holding her. Cute. “It’s a little last minute.”
“You’re still at the art show, right?”
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m here.”
“Then, come on by! I’ll see you in twenty.”
I tongue my cheek. “I’ve still gotta load the van, so I’m not sure?—”
“Then forty.”
I can’t say no. I have no excuse other than the fact that I’m here with a woman—a woman I’m very interested in. My mom will see that, and she’ll get her hopes up. It’s not that I’m embarrassed by Bonnie. Far from it. I’m actually not sure I have any qualms about my mom meeting Bonnie. She’s a fuckin’ delight.
But there is a twinge in my gut at the idea of Bonnie meeting my mom. I love Peggy Cohen, but she’s also … Peggy Cohen. And not everyone can handle her.
“Baby? Still there?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“Everything okay? I just haven’t seen you in months, so I was hoping we could get together, but if you’re busy …” Her words fade off.
I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Yeah. Forty is good.”
She squeals. It’s over the top. “Perfect! I’ll get the house ready.”
I wait until she hangs up, and then I tuck my phone in my pocket. My hand twitches to my cigarettes until I see Bonnie looking back with eyebrows tilted in. I drop my palm and stroll back over.
“Everything okay?” she asks.
“Yeah.” I rap my knuckles against the tent’s leg. “Hey, listen, my mom’s off work. She wants me to come over.”
“Oh.” Bonnie’s face drops, and, God, if that doesn’t kill me. “That’s great though! I can hang out in a local coffee shop. I’ve been wanting to try?—”
“No,” I interrupt, striding over to cup my palms on either side of her shoulders. “No. I’m not letting you just wait around until I’m done.”
“Then the bookstore?” she teases with a smile. “Is that acceptable, Big Bad?”
God, if it doesn’t make me smile too. She’s all sunshine, and I’m the rain cloud, bringing her down with my thunder. But I’m a selfish man, and I’ll take all the sun in the world if she gives it to me.
“No, it’s not acceptable,” I say. “You’ll just have to come with me.” I squint. “If that’s okay?”
Her beaming smile answers for her.