by B. Cranford
How did this photo get approved? Poor bastard must have an enemy working at the DMV to end up with this thing in his wallet for the better part of a decade.
I was still staring down at the image, scared to look up and see his face after I’d mocked his photo and given the lamest compliment ever when I recognized the sound of quiet laughter. Snapping my head up, my mouth fell open in surprise and amusement. “You’re laughing? You shit, you made me feel so bad!” I reached out to shove him in the shoulder, but he grabbed my hand before I could make contact and linked our fingers.
And just like that, I was back to thinking of my name on his lips, his mouth to my ear, his breath and mine choppy as he raised our joined hands over my head and used them to anchor me to the bed.
“I’m sorry, it was too good an opportunity to pass up.”
Blinking dazedly because my mind refused to give up the sexy visual quickly, I held the ID up in front of his face. “Is this even real, or a fake you carry around for unsuspecting amusement park patrons?”
“Oh no, it’s definitely real. I told you I was sick that day. What I didn’t tell you is my sister was the one who took the photo and approved it when I went to get it renewed.” He tightened his hold on my hand briefly, then let it go, reaching for the license. “And now I have this for eight long years.”
“Wow, that’s . . . wow.” I still held the other side as he tried to grab it back. “Uh, so you’re maybe not going to like this, or even agree to it, but I want to take a photo of it to send to my sister.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why? So you can post it online and turn me into a meme?”
“I read a book recently that had a guy who got turned into a meme, but no. It’s so she knows who to look for if you abduct me once I’m in your car.” Or we die in a fiery car wreck. I inwardly winced at that morbid thought, judging his mood before adding, “Not that they’d be able to find you based on this photo, but still. It’d be a starting point.”
“Maybe I should let you drive and take a picture of your driver’s license,” he countered, his eyes and his voice telling me it was a tease and not a serious threat. Not that it would matter anyway.
“I don’t drive; therefore I do not have a license for you to photograph,” I retorted, sounding far more glib about it than I felt.
“Right, so my options are to let you share my shame with your sister or miss out on a date with you?”
“Or we could stand here in the middle of the parking lot playing tug of war with your license and chatting about it?”
“That’s tempting. I get to spend more time with you, and I don’t have to worry about ending up going viral.” He let go of the license and gestured at me to go ahead. “Take the photo. Despite you mocking me, I’d still like to take you to lunch. Plus, I’m getting hungry, so that rules out tug of war.”
Smiling at him, I pulled my phone from my pocket and opened the camera. “How about a compromise? I’ll cover your photo with my thumb, so Willa gets the details but not the photo, and take a separate picture of you to send along with it?”
“I don’t know. Do I get final approval? Because I can’t even trust my own sister.” He looked momentarily rueful, a hang-dog look that was both pitiful and well-rehearsed.
“Why do I feel like that’s the face you use to get your way a lot?”
“No idea what you mean,” he replied, sad face morphing into a smirk that confirmed my assumption was correct.
Rolling my eyes at him, I nodded. “Okay, final approval. Ready?” I held up the phone and pointed it at him, only for him to pluck it out of my hands.
“I have a better idea. Come here.” He motioned me closer, wrapping his arm around my shoulder when I stood next to him and drawing me against his body. “Now,” he started, tapping the reverse button on my phone screen, “she can see that you’re with me willingly.”
I smiled up at him, my body tingling in all the places it touched his. It might have been stupid, but I’d enjoyed our few minutes of banter and silliness more than any date I could remember for the past five years, at least. “Okay, good idea.”
Looking at the image of us on the screen while Rowan held it out to take the picture, I felt a burst of pleasure at how well matched we looked. Being ridiculously tall could sometimes make taking photos difficult, especially with my female friends who were all shorter than me by several inches. But with Rowan, it wasn’t an issue. He was only a couple of inches taller than me—not tall enough that I could rest my head on his shoulder or anything cutesy like that, but tall enough that neither of us had to worry about having our heads cut out of the image.
Also, tall enough to turn my head and plant a kiss right on his cheek without exerting myself. You know, if I felt like it.
“Okay, smile,” he said, his thumb tapping a few times against the screen. “Surely one of those works. Let’s see.” He left his arm around my shoulders as he bought the phone closer, bringing up the camera roll and tapping on the last image. My eyes were bright, my smile so big it was bordering on humongous. He looked perfect—not a wonky eye, or crooked smile, or hair out of place to be seen.
There wasn’t even a reflection off his glasses, which seemed both unlikely and unfair.
“Your teeth really are very nice.” I nudged his side gently. “I might’ve had to reach for a compliment before, but it wasn’t a lie. What are you, some kind of dentist?”
“Actually, yeah, I am.” He glanced at me before returning his attention to the screen and flicking to the next photo. “God, not this one.”
Grabbing the phone so I could see it better, I laughed at the way his mouth was wide open, while my eyes were drooped, my jaw pulled back to give me an additional three chins. “Jeez, how did you even manage to get this photo?”
“I think maybe I pressed the button without realizing it.” He took the phone back and deleted the photo. “Best forget you ever saw that one.”
Nodding in agreement, I nonetheless made a mental note to retrieve it from my recently deleted folder before the end of the day. For some inexplicable reason, I wanted to keep it as a memento, and as long as I didn’t plan to share it with anyone, that’d be fine. Wouldn’t it?
“Okay, this one,” he said, bringing my mind back to the conversation at hand. “This is definitely the one.”
I half-expected him to turn the phone and show me the same photo he’d just deleted, a little trick for the hell of it, so I was ready with a funny little quip in case. Except when he handed it to me, it wasn’t the same photo.
And not only could I not come up with a funny little quip about it, I couldn’t even come up with more than one word.
“Perfect.”
Chapter Two
Rowan
Damn, she was cute, looking intently at the photo of us. Maybe she was seeing what I saw—two people who clearly looked good together.
Or maybe that was wishful thinking.
Either way, I was just glad she was still with me, standing beside my car, mocking my driver’s license photo. Because when I’d seen her sitting on that bench, looking shaken and unsteady, all I’d wanted to do was comfort her. I’d blown off my friends—I hadn’t even bothered with a lame excuse; I’d literally just told them I’d see them later and walked off before they could say anything—and gone to sit beside her.
And now I had her number . . . even if she didn’t know it yet.
“You going to send that to”—I paused, her twin sister’s name coming to me in a heartbeat—“Willa now? Because I think my stomach is starting to eat itself.” On cue, the hunger made itself known in the form of an impressive growl.
Kinda proud of it, not gonna lie.
Lenny’s eyes dropped to my stomach then returned to meet mine, the deep blue color standing out against pale, freckled skin.
She wasn’t just cute—she was beautiful.
“Lenny?” I prompted when she didn’t say or do anything. “The photo?”
She blinked, a huge smile breaking acro
ss her face. “Sorry. I half expected you to suddenly shape-shift into a bear or a tiger after that.” She pointed to my stomach. “I’ve had dogs that haven’t barked as loud as your tummy just groaned. You should see a doctor about that.”
“Funny,” I deadpanned, shaking my head at her animated expression, and grabbing the phone from her hand again. “I’ll take care of it.” Attaching the photo of us to a message—which I’d already sneakily texted to myself—I quickly found her sister’s name in her contacts. No crazy nicknames or lengthy strings of emojis for Lenny—just “Willa” coupled with the Gemini symbol.
“No, wait!” Lenny grabbed for the phone, but I’d already sent the message. Should I have waited, let her do it herself? Eh, probably. But this was fun too—Lenny reaching for the phone and pressing her body closer to mine. “If you sent anything weird to her, she’ll know it wasn’t me,” she said, eyes narrowing in my direction.
“Nothing weird, I promise. Look”—I handed the phone back to her—“see?”
She looked at my simple “license coming” message—I’d gambled that this was something she and her sister had done before—then back to me. “Oh, thanks. Sorry. Let me just . . .” She trailed off, snapping a quick picture of my license, her fingers flying as she added to my previous message. “Sorry about that.”
“How many times you think we’ve said sorry in the”—I checked my watch with a great deal of showmanship—“thirty minutes we’ve known each other?”
Her teeth sank into her lower lip, giving her a sheepish expression as she covered her eyes with her hand. “Sorry, I have a bad—oh shit, I just said it again, didn’t I? Sorry.”
Laughing, I moved her hand away so I could see her properly. “It’s not a problem. I mean, it probably would’ve helped if you’d admitted you were Canadian to begin with, but we’ll get through this. Together.”
“I’m not Canadian.” Sheepish became confused until understanding dawned. She pointed at me, one eyebrow lifting. “Oh, right. You’re funny, Rowan Richard Roberts.”
“You saw that, huh?”
She nodded emphatically. “Yep.” She popped on the “P” and added, “Happy birthday, Triple R. Thirty-five years old today, huh? That makes you six years and one month to the day older than me.”
Groaning, I wished she hadn’t noticed my birthdate or my full name, though I wasn’t sorry to learn her age. “Most people just call me Row, but whatever floats your boat.”
“Was that—was that a name pun? Like, ‘row, row, row your boat’?” A small giggle slipped past her extremely kissable lips.
Yeah, she was cute and beautiful. And damn if she wasn’t funny, too.
“Surprisingly, it wasn’t intentional, but I admire you for noticing.” Grabbing my license as she held it out for me, I waited to say more when her phone buzzed with a message, presumably from her sister. “Are we good to go now?”
She nodded after sending another reply and slipping her phone in her pocket. “Yes, sorry about that. And about saying sorry again.”
“No problem. There’s a good place about two miles from here, if that works?”
She agreed, so after helping her into the car, I rounded the hood and slid into the driver’s seat. “Right, where were we?”
Her laugh, light and happy, filled the car. “I’m not sure I even know. We covered bad license photos, my”—she made air quotes—“‘Canadian’ heritage, your birthday, and . . . Wait, was that all?”
“It was a bit of a mixed bag, I admit.” Not that I minded. I’d enjoyed talking nonsense with her, especially since it seemed to relax the tension that had built since we’d left the park and headed for my car. “How about we try to focus on one topic?”
“I don’t know. Think we’re up to the challenge?” she replied, shifting in her seat to face me better as I started the car and backed out of the parking space.
“You’re the Challenger,” I said, referring to the nickname I’d bestowed on her earlier, “you tell me.”
“In that case, yes. We are. So, are you really a dentist? Because I was joking when I asked, but then you said yes, and . . .”
I laughed as she trailed off with a cute, puzzled expression on her face. “I really am. I have a practice about twenty minutes from here.”
“Do you do your own teeth? Because that’s a good advertisement for your business, if so.”
Laughing at the way she pretended to prop her chin on her fist, even though there was nothing but air to rest her elbow on, I shook my head and made sure to keep my attention on the road. “My sister—not the one that took the photo—works with me. I see her, she sees me. It’s kind of hard to examine your own teeth.”
“Right, yeah. That was probably a dumb question, huh?”
Without thinking, I reached out a hand to rest on her leg. The way she’d propped herself on the seat, half facing me with one leg bent at the knee and tucked under the other, my hand landed far higher than I’d intended.
Not that I minded—not at all. Hell, I was game for moving it even higher, but I didn’t want to scare her off or make her uncomfortable. “Ah, that was not intentional,” I told her, removing my hand quickly. “I’m so—”
She cut me off with a raised hand. “Nope, don’t say it. Last thing we need is more apologizing around here. I knew it was accidental.”
“Okay, good. Good. And it wasn’t a dumb question, so don’t worry about it.”
I saw her open her mouth to reply in my periphery, so I quickly asked my own question to stop her from asking more of me. Being a dentist wasn’t nearly as dull as people seemed to think, but it also wasn’t a scintillating topic for a first date. Besides, my curiosity was killing me. “What did your sister say when you told her you were going out with me?”
“To be careful, to call when we went our separate ways, and to see if roller coaster sex was possible or just something for her overactive imagination. She said, and I quote, ‘I’ve only ever had carousel sex and Ferris wheel sex.’”
Her unexpected response, coupled with the completely normal way she said it, surprised me into nearly slamming on the brakes. Thankfully, it was only my mind that came to a screeching halt and not the car too. “She what?”
“Willa is a bit wilder than me,” she added, although I wasn’t sure if it was to tell me not to expect public sex on one of the park’s big attractions or because she felt like she needed to apologize for her sister’s antics.
The fact was, neither was an issue.
I might’ve stolen her phone number, but I wasn’t the type to assume sex was on the table—or the Ferris wheel—or to judge someone else’s proclivities. If her sister wanted sex in strange places, more power to her. I hope she got it.
Wanting to break the suddenly tense moment, I asked, “You’re close? You and Willa?”
“Yeah,” she said, her voice softening, “we are. She’s my best friend.”
“Are you identical?”
“No, fraternal. If you were just looking at our faces, you’d be forgiven for thinking we were, but I’m taller than her and naturally blond.” She chuckled. “She changes her hair so much, I don’t think anyone knows Willa’s natural color, even her.”
I frowned. “You have purple hair.”
There was a smile in her voice when she replied. “I’m not judging her, or being hypocritical, I swear. This is the first and only time I’ve dyed my hair. It was part of a celebration for a friend I lost recently. Sort of seeing through a request she made of me.” She paused. “Don’t say sorry—I can tell you want to.”
Her comment caught me slightly off guard—again—and I glanced over at her. “We’ve said it enough today, and I know it’s reflex when you find out someone knows someone who died recently.”
I thought about that for a moment, realizing she was right. It was something said out of habit or politeness, but still. I felt like I should say something. “Are you okay?”
“I am. I have my moments, but I’m good. I promise. Now, come o
n, we’re getting bogged down in random conversation again.” She swiped a hand through the air, dropped it to her lap, lifted it to caress the back of her neck before looking at it in exasperation. “Are we nearly there?”
I flicked on my turn signal, pulling up in front of the café at the same moment. “We sure are.”
“Good, let’s go eat and see if we can have a conversation that doesn’t end in an apology.”
“If you don’t drive, how will you get home? Uber?” I dropped my napkin on my plate, pushing it slightly away to signal I was finished. “Hitchhike? Horse?”
Lenny covered her laugh with her hand, shaking her head at the same time. We’d kept the conversation light—and apology free—since we’d sat down at the café, and it had been . . . easy. She was easy to talk to, to laugh with and at, easy to be with.
I liked her. A whole hell of a lot. More than I had any other woman I’d met or dated in the past.
“Uber to the bus station, then bus home. I live about three hours from here.” She vaguely gestured toward the window. “It was a bit of a trek, but I tied it in with a job interview to make the most of it.”
“Does that mean you’re staying overnight?” I asked, the idea of her and me tangled in hotel sheets hitting me hard. And, yeah, making me hard. “Or maybe you stayed last night?”
“I stayed last night,” she replied with what I hoped was a tinge of regret in her words. “Interview was yesterday morning, and then the park yesterday afternoon and today. My bus leaves at seven, I think.”
I nodded, hoping my disappointment didn’t show on my face. Probably best if she didn’t know I already had us naked in my mind.
Unless she was thinking the same thing.
Adjusting myself discreetly, I asked, “Does that mean you’re done at Island Heights? Or are we heading back there after this?”
“We?” She lifted her eyebrow at me. “Are you volunteering to join me on Avalanche?”
“That’s next on your list, huh? I’m game if you are.” Reaching out, I grabbed her hand. “Seriously, if you need someone to do it with”—I choked back an immature snort because I’d definitely like to do it with her as evidenced by my current situation—“I’m your guy.”
