Chapter 11 #2
“Can I get it in a sugar cone?” I nod. “Can I get two scoops?” She draws the last words out like it’s the most daring question anyone has ever asked me.
“I’ll buy you the whole shop if you want it.”
“You’re so funny, Jumper. I can’t have an ice-cream shop. I’m five!” Her giggles float on the air.
“You’re right! What was I thinking?” I smack myself in the head, and she giggles even more. “Ya know, Lou, I wish all women could be happy with two scoops. They all seem to want the entire franchise.” She still looks up at the sky, with no idea what I’m talking about.
Lou takes the topic for another abrupt turn. “Dee-Dee kisses Penelope all the time.” Lou is big into nicknames, and for reasons only she knows, Penelope is what she calls Sam. “It looks gross. I’m never going to kiss a boy.”
“Your Dee-Dee and I fully support this decision.” My tone of voice is serious—mostly because I am. I don’t know what I’d do to a boy who tried to kiss Lou, but I know it wouldn’t be pretty.
Lou’s dad died a few weeks before she was born when he was hit by a drunk driver, so Deke’s been the closest thing to a dad she’s had. I’m like the uncle who’s always trying to make sure he’s the favorite—which I totally am!
“Mommy says I’ll change my mind some day, but I don’t think I will. Also please don’t tell Dee-Dee this, but,” she gets a conspiratorial look on her face as her hands come up to her mouth and she whispers, “Penelope is my new favorite.”
“Wait. What?” I wish my tone of voice could be lighthearted and teasing and not carry the genuine shock that it does. “When I was here last time, I was your favorite. What happened?” At thirty-one years old, this is not the kind of jealousy I should have—and yet, here I am.
We begin a lively debate about why I should get top billing over Sam, all while pointing out different shapes in the clouds.
I finally stand up. “But can she do this?” I grab her and twirl her around .
. . and around . . . and around . . . and around, until I think we’re both going to puke.
Okay, maybe only me, but it’s worth it to hear her laughing and squealing like this.
“Hello?” I hear a woman’s voice, but I’m still spinning and am so dizzy that I can’t tell exactly where it’s coming from. I stop and set Lou down as gingerly as I can, but I still can’t compute: up is down, down is up, left and right don’t even exist, and puking is still a possibility.
I reach out my hand in an attempt to greet this woman, but in my stumbling, my hand accidentally bumps her chest. I freeze (metaphorically speaking, because I’m still walking like a drunk), trying to decide what protocol is.
Do I pretend that didn’t happen? If I acknowledge it, does that make it worse?
If I were her, what would I want me to do?
Normal Cooper would know protocol here, but dizzy Cooper can’t even stand up, let alone figure out what to say or not say.
I try to stand straight, but all I do is tilt . . . tilt . . . tilt.
That’s when I go down on the sand.
And take her with me.
So now we are lying here, staring at each other.
She's underneath me.
And I’m on top of her.
The dizziness subsides, and I see her face clearly for the first time. The arch of one of her perfectly sculpted, dark-brown eyebrows is slightly raised. How does she do that? Raise one brow?
She clears her throat, drawing my attention to her mouth, where the sound emanates from. Her lips are full and pouty.
She clears her throat again, and I realize I need to get off this woman—but not before I hear another voice. This one is deeper.
“Cooper?” I look up to see Deacon standing there, a shocked expression on his face. “I see you’ve met Stephanie.” His words come out more question than statement.
I look down at the big, brown eyes that are still looking back at me. Apparently, this is Stephanie. She tries to get up, but I’m a decently sized guy and am squarely on top of her. I immediately jump to my feet and offer her my hand. “I’m so sorry about?—”
Stephanie cuts me off. “No worries.” She stands up on her own.
“I mean . . . sure, there might be worries. Some of those worries might be, Did he touch my boob intentionally, or was it an accident? But I think we can all agree that it was an accident. Right? Yeah, I thought so.” She looks at me with a curious stare.
“I mean, I’m the one who walked into your space .
. . here . . . on the sand . . . where you were being so cute with Lou.
” Her eyes are doe-like, and something stirs inside me.
Then she looks down at the sand, over to Lou, and back up at me.
“And you were pretty dizzy. We agreed it was an accident, right? I think we did. So I’m the one that should be sorry.
For walking into your space . . . Oh. Hi, I’m Stephanie.
” She extends her hand then retracts it, as if I’d already shaken it.
“Okay.” She looks over and acknowledges Deke and another woman standing next to him.
“Hi Sam.” Her eyes come back to me. “I think that’s all.
” Then she takes Lou’s hand and goes inside.
I watch them leave, and when they’re inside, I can’t help but stare slack-jawed at the back door.
“That’s what happens,” I turn to look as the woman with Deke explains, “when she’s nervous.”
I can’t help but dart a look back at the door and smile, trying to imagine what Stephanie’s doing in there. But an abrupt realization hits me, and I turn back to the people standing a few feet away. “Sam! It’s so good to finally meet you.” I extend my hand.
“And you must be Cooper.” She shakes mine in answer. “Am I to understand you touched Stephanie’s boob?”