“Dad,” Arnie murmured—his voice lowering in tone but increasing with intensity. “I never asked you this before, but I’ve been wondering. About Mom. Do you think she’s where I got it from?”
He didn’t have to elaborate. His dad was aware of everything and good thing too because Arnie knew without a doubt that he would have lost his way a long time ago without his father’s anchoring influence.
Ned Wanamaker smiled. “Your mom had more going for her than an entire contingent of Disney princesses. She carried on conversations with plants, animals, and inanimate objects. Her giggle had a backing track of laughing angels. She had a recipe for hot chocolate made with magic, and the effect she had on people was extraordinary. Did you learn to tune in from her? I’ve always assumed so.”
Hearing his dad unguardedly describe the love of his life made Arnie think of Summer. She had a magic giggle and loved people too.
Without thinking or hesitation, he offered his father a hug. “Thanks, Dad.”
When they separated, he found his father studying him closely, but the moment passed.
He watched her at the counter, ordering the most complicated beverage of all time. Instead of aggravating the barista, she was effortlessly charming the guy out of his shorts.
“Triple shot of chocolate,” she cutely admonished with a finger point. “Very important that it’s three.”
“Three it is,” the apron-wearing man said with a nod. With a pen in his hand posed with anticipation above a large drink cup, he asked, “Name?”
Summer giggled, and Arnie smiled.
“Rapunzel,” she replied.
The barista laughed. “Second one today!”
“It’s a California thing,” Summer chirped with adorable delight.
When it was his turn to order, she stepped to the right but stuck close. Arnie liked the way she affected him. He thought clearer and wasn’t so open to the barrage of energy battering him in crowds of people he didn’t know.
He paid for their drinks and added two big muffins to the order when he saw her inspecting the display of treats.
“How do you stay so slim with the amount you eat?” he teased as they claimed a table and waited for their names to be called.
“Beats the hell out of me,” she replied in a mocking voice. “My engine normally runs hot. I need the extra fuel.”
The temptation to riff off her statement about running hot was hard to tamp down, but he did.
“Hey.” She leaned across the table and touched his hand. “What do you want to do after this?”
Being casual and playing it by ear worked at first, but this didn’t mean he hadn’t been thinking long and hard about what came next. She had the next two days off, and even though the Wanamaker Retreat was in full swing, Arnie was more than ready to take the escape route and do whatever the pretty lady wanted.
Whatever he could convince her to want.
“Have you ever been to the Four Seasons?”
“No.” She snorted. “The Ramada Inn is more my speed.”
“Would you like to have dinner there?”
“Where? The Ramada or the Four Seasons?”
He laughed.
“Now come on! Be nice. The complimentary continental breakfast at the Ramada is pretty amazing,” Summer assured him.
“Well, it’s good to know, but I had something more romantic in mind.”
“Really? Romantic?” She sat back and regarded him. “What passes for romantic with you, Arnie?”
He crossed his fingers beneath the table and set a scene he hoped would tempt her.
“Sweeping you away to my private bungalow where a top-notch chef is waiting with a champagne welcome and a candlelight dinner.”
She blinked at his words. “You have a private bungalow?”
“No, the hotel does. It’s a freestanding gem hidden in a lush jungle-like setting. It’s got a private patio and spa.”
“Spa?”
Ha! He had her!
“Yep. Plunge pool with whirlpool jets. And a fabulous outdoor fireplace.”
“Boy.” She chuckled. “That’s a tough one.”
“Rapunzel and Flynn Rider,” the barista hollered over the din.
Summer laughed. “I hope Flynn Rider is you.”
Arnie grinned. “I debated going by Eugene Fitzherbert, but thought it would give away the ridiculous wealth of Disney fan knowledge I have up here.” He pointed at his temple and hurried to the counter for their drinks.
“So far, so good,” he muttered under his breath on his return trip to their table.
Summer was an island of calm in the midst of a space teeming with other people’s energy. He felt the pull between them and let the heated tingles in his lower belly draw him forward.
When he put her drink container on the table and slid it to her, he wasn’t sure if she was happier to see him or the hot chocolate latte.
“Three pumps,” she announced as she inspected the order sticker for accuracy. “Says it right here.” She sniffed the drink slot in the lid, and said, “Well, we’re about to find out. Cheers!”
Her first sip was tentative. He watched her face as she tested the concoction. The second sip was longer. She looked like a wine enthusiast at a tasting.
Arnie took a mouthful of his drink. “What’s the verdict, Rapunzel?”
She set the drink down and stared at it for a moment. “It’s not perfect, but it’s also not a fail, so I vote to acquit.”
“I find it amusing—how specific people are with a drink order,” he told her. “Yet those same people couldn’t describe the details of their kitchen from memory.”
“What an interesting observation. Thought-provoking.”
He acted nonchalant about it but admitted scrutinizing people’s quirks and traits was an occupational habit.
“Observation specialist. It’s in my job description.”
“You watch people for a living?”
“Something like that.” He took another sip. “Uh, but not in a creepy way.”
She laughed at his remark. “I don’t find you creepy at all, and we’ve previously touched on my somewhat creepy fascination with narrating the pretend lives of total strangers. Sounds like we’re even.”
He let a few moments pass in silence before asking the million-dollar question. “Have I persuaded you to have dinner with me?”
“I don’t know what this says about me, but no persuading is necessary.” She laid her hand, palm down, over her heart, and then touched her temple. “All-access pass.”
The weight of what she admitted sat heavily on his emotions. Her willingness to show vulnerability and the amount of trust it took was deeply humbling. If he fucked this up, his life would never be the same.
With the rest of their evening settled, Arnie relaxed and enjoyed Summer’s company.
“You look very pretty.” He gestured to her dress and winked. “The boho style suits you.”
Her brows shot up. “Do you read Glamour magazine? How else would you know this outfit is from the boho rack?”
With no reason not to tell her more about his real life, he gave a grin and went about impressing her with his fashion knowledge.
“Well, there’s a simple explanation. I have the good fortune to be work colleagues with a couple of women who march to very different drummers. Wigs, remember? Any man in my position, any smart man,” he added sarcastically, “would capitalize on the insider view and learn as much as possible.”
“Shrewd.” She giggled. “I like how your mind works.”
He basked in her snarky praise and kept rolling while carefully eyeing her outfit. “You’re wearing a boho-style burgundy floral dress with a square neck, high waist, and flouncy sleeves. It suits you.”
“Dolly Parton boobs and skinny legs make dressing a challenge.”
Arnie reached for a napkin when he almost spit out the coffee in his mouth at her description. “Dolly’s tits are man-made.” He leered at her bodacious rack and winked.
“Can’t hold a candle to the real thing.”
“You bit me,” she announced without a lead-in.
Startled, he frowned, and muttered, “Uh.”
She looked around and discreetly pulled down the dress’s neckline to show him a mark left on her pale flesh by his mouth.
He, honest to god, did not know how to react. The marks he left on her chest and the slight bruising he saw earlier on her hips—the result of his strong grip—only told half a story. The other half was found on the divots and scratch marks her nails left on his back.
With a boyish smirk, he snickered, “I’m sorry?”
Summer smirked and rolled her eyes. “I’m not. Although,” she drawled in a playful tone that made his heart sing, “if your plan is to whisk me away to a fancy hotel for the purpose of seducing me, I must insist on equal time.”
“Meaning?”
She lifted one shoulder and flashed an innocent look. “Oh, you know.”
He chuckled. “No, please enlighten me.”
After a long sip and some very definite ogling that left no doubt about Summer’s lusty thoughts, she quipped, “Turnabout is fair play, right? I mean, after all, it’s only right if you got to bite me, I should have the same opportunity.”
He grinned like a goddamn idiot, and then she moved in with a verbal kill shot.
“From my knees,” she purred. Her gaze dipped to his lap, and even though the table blocked her view, he was instantly turned on, knowing she was thinking about his cock. “I hear inner thigh love bites are all the rage.”
He growled. “Who told you that?” The idea of Summer entertaining sexual thoughts that did not center solely on him got his hackles up.
“I read.” She laughed. “And I have girlfriends who love to brag. Did you know gargling sperm is the number one way to score a ring?”
Arnie’s head felt like it exploded. He was on the cusp of reacting when he noticed a teeny tiny quiver at the corner of her mouth. She was playing with him.
“Did you know men ejaculate at a rate of about twenty-eight miles an hour?”
Her mouth dropped open in shock. Mentally patting himself on the back, he kept going.
“And some say the bigger the cannon, the more powerful the explosion.”
Summer gave as good if not better than she got and came right back with a challenge.
“Sorry, big guy. We live in litigious times. You’ll have to spell out consent, or your cannon goes unattended. Do you agree I have every right to tattoo my name in hickeys on your inner thigh?”
Sexy Summer’s innocent fascination with cock mechanics was both a turn-on and a hell of a challenge.
He leered, and her smoky blues flared with interest. “Tell you what, pretty lady. I’ll teach you how to use Morse code in a conversation between your mouth and my dick.”
Her giggle was the best thing to ever happen.
“Shall I take that as interest?”
With an exaggerated sigh, she sat back and looked at a watch she wasn’t wearing. “The clock is running. My next forty-eight hours are all yours, and yes, I put Morse code on our to-do list.”
Because he was a guy and had a male’s one-track mind, he stopped to consider whether sucks or nibbles would be best. Which sensation would he be able to decipher? Was his cock strong enough to handle finding out?
When he looked at her, she was licking her lips, and her gaze turned intense.
On the way out of Starbucks, Arnie swore she smiled at everyone and mostly got happy reactions in return. Her natural friendliness fascinated him. She made eye contact and had a smile for every stranger.
At the same time, he worried about the pitfalls of being an open conduit to other people. She needed a protector—someone to shield her from those who might seek to use her friendliness as a weapon. Against her. He’d have to kill anyone who messed with her. The thought was unsettling but accurate. If he had any say in the matter, the golden girl with sunshine in her smile was not to be trifled with—not unless tangling with the darker side of his personality seemed like a good idea.
Wrapping her arm around his, she matched his strides and clung. He’d never given much thought to PDA—public displays of affection—but her act of claiming affected him deeply.
“I could get used to this,” she teasingly cooed when he got her belted into the Tesla with the step-by-step safety focus of a guy running a carnival ride.
“Safety first,” he growled in as playful a tone as his libido could manage.
Summer giggled and touched his face before he drew back. “Are you sure it’s not a case of you getting off on strapping me in, or down, whichever the case may be?”
He grinned, stood, and answered with a cocky a smirk, knowing full well his bulging cock was right in front of her face.
“If you’re referencing bondage, you should know I wasn’t just a Boy Scout. I made Eagle Scout, so my knowledge of knots is extensive.”
Her expression was all teeth and rosy flushed cheeks. He almost dropped like a rock when she fondled his bulge, and purred, “I like this knot.”
Self-preservation made him grip her wrist to control her misbehaving fingers. “Look but no touch, baby.”
She pouted by licking her lips, scrunching her nose and grunting her displeasure. “Does this mean car sex is off the agenda?”
Laughingly, he reached for her hand and kissed it. “I’m a big guy, and I need room to maneuver. Your little bed barely cuts it, so unless we’re talking about the back of a limo, car sex is out.”
She snarled.
Caressing her neck, he murmured, “But car foreplay? There’s a subject worth exploring.”
Did her smile shine brighter than a floodlight? One hundred!
“Get in the car, Arnie.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He chuckled as he secured her door and claimed the driver’s seat. Her interest in getting naughty only lasted as long as it took her to inventory the snacks in the center console. He’d made sure to stock up before leaving the hotel.
“Ah!” She gasped. “No way! Bugles?”
Arnie grinned, and exclaimed, “Even better. Nacho cheese Bugles!”
“A man after my own heart,” she teased.
“Wherever I am, I find out where all the best vending machines are,” he drawled.
“Find out? How?”
“There’s an online network of vending aficionados posting on a bulletin board thread. Searchable by city and hotel.”
She smiled broadly. “Vending machines and food trucks. Where have you been all my life?”
Talking with her was better than a Disney park ride. She was quick, witty, charming, wicked, and remarkably intuitive. He liked her honesty and the way she didn’t hide her feelings or thoughts from him.
He asked her what TV shows she liked and let her entertain him with a long, winding answer.
“And then, of course, you can’t discount the classics. Will and Grace, Friends, Frazier, and That 70’s Show. If it’s light and uncomplicated, I’ve probably watched it.”
“So no Criminal Minds for you?”
She shuddered. “Actually, I love the show, but over time, it got inside my head, and I had to stop watching.” Her shrug was far from indifferent. “There’s plenty of dark, evil shit to go around, but I don’t have to know about it.”
“You have empathic traits.”
Though his attention was on the road, he saw her do a double take at his face.
“Um, yeah. I guess. My dad used to say I never lost my connection to dreams. He believed babies come into the world still tethered to the angels but lose the attachment over time. Gone but not forgotten because, in my case, the link still remains.”
His heart pounded as she inexpertly described the living bond between the worlds. It never occurred to him what having real feelings for someone with similar abilities to his would mean or feel like.
Smacking his arm, she barked without warning. “Stop! Stop!”
Startled, he
stammered, “Wh-what?”
“Pull over, pull over,” she demanded. Her head jerked as she looked over her shoulder.
Sliding the car to the curb, he barely had time to register what was happening when she flipped open the console and grabbed a handful of snacks.
“Come on, come on!” She laughed and opened the car door, pushing it wide with her foot.
What the hell? He unbuckled quickly and exited the car with extreme speed, just in time to see her running up the sidewalk toward a man in an electric wheelchair.
Flabbergasted and curious about what the fuck was happening, he ran to catch up with her and found himself introduced to a grizzled-looking senior citizen who regarded Summer with a benevolent grin.
“Cy! Say hello to my friend Arnie! He is a purveyor of snacks.” She cackled while dumping a pile of vending goodies into the guy’s lap.
She turned, reached for his hand, and pulled him closer. “Arnie, this is Cyrus. He’s a Sergeant Major. He works at the Veteran’s Help Center and does the best shadow puppets ever!”
The gray-haired man stuck out his hand. “The name’s Westmorland—no relation to anyone famous. Missy Sunflower exaggerates about the shadow puppets,” the guy said with a smiling nod at Summer.
They shook hands, and the minute the older man’s palm touched Arnie’s, he knew he was in the presence of a warrior. He didn’t need to hear stories to be humbled by the stranger.
Wearing clues a person would be stupid to miss, Arnie noted the fatigue jacket with the name Westmoreland on the chest. A ball cap declared him a Vietnam vet, and he wore the black horse insignia of the 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment.
“Black Horse,” Arnie said in a voice filled with awe. The respect he had for the 11th could not be understated. Their Vietnam service was only one small part of a storied hundred-year history.
“Where are you headed, Cy?” Summer asked. She reached for a pack of Mini Oreos on the old warrior’s leg, but he laughingly smacked her hand away.
“Back off, Missy,” he growled a tone as menacing as a hug.
“Aw, come on.” She giggled in a wheedling whine. “But, but …”
Finding Summer (Nightwind Book 3) Page 13
