by Lori Wilde
“It looks like the face painting is going to take a while,” Gideon said. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Lemonade would be lovely.”
“Lemonade it is.”
He went to the lemonade stand, made his purchase, and brought back two tall glasses of lemonade. “Want to sit?” He nodded at a vacant wrought-iron bench on the courthouse lawn.
“Sure.”
They sat, sipping lemonade, listening to the hum of the crowd who were shopping for crafts, playing games of chance, eating gooey decadent treats bought from street vendors. It was a perfect morning. She should feel blissfully happy, but life wasn’t that simple. The sun, shifting through the elm trees, warmed her cheeks. Nearby, a mockingbird trilled a medley of borrowed birdsongs.
Across the road lay the victory garden. It had been blocked off from the street with plywood boards to keep looky-loos from stomping around the tender plants. Caitlyn found her mind wandering to the care and feeding of plants.
The silence had stopped being awkward. She felt more than saw Gideon’s shoulders loosen. Heard his breathing go slower. He was relaxing. Good. Good.
“Caitlyn.” Terri Longoria called her name, snapping Caitlyn from her reverie.
“Yes?”
“We desperately need your help.”
“What’s up?”
“Missy Ivey signed up to man the kissing booth from eleven to twelve, but she shows up with a cold sore on her lip. Can you imagine that?”
“Well, you know Missy.”
“So can you stand in for her?”
“Um . . . Gideon and I were having an outing with Danny.” The last thing she wanted was to man a kissing booth. The only person she wanted to kiss was the man sitting beside her.
“It’s only for an hour. And we need someone young and attractive. It’s not like I can grab just anyone.”
“Giving away kisses just isn’t my thing.”
“You won’t be giving them away. It’s a dollar for cheek kisses, two dollars for on the lips, and no tongue allowed. You can specify cheek kisses only.” Terri pressed her palms together in a prayer of supplication. “Please, please. The money is going to charity. Disadvantaged kids.”
Why did she have to put it like that? “Terri . . .”
“Please.” Terri turned to Gideon. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“It’s not my place to say. Caitlyn has a mind of her own.”
Caitlyn sighed. She liked that he didn’t try to tell her what to do, but in this case, she really wished he’d told Terri that he did mind. She let out a sigh. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
Terri hugged her around the neck. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“Big help you were,” Caitlyn teased as she got up to follow Terri over to the kissing booth.
“Hey, you’re a big girl.”
She went behind the booth, and immediately two old guys from the local nursing home got in line. They paid their dollars and she presented them her cheek. They kissed her and went away bragging. She rolled her eyes, turned to the next person in line.
Gideon. With a hundred-dollar bill in his hand.
“What are you doing?”
“I decided I wasn’t mature enough to handle watching other men kiss you, even if they were old codgers who were lucky to still have their teeth.”
“Where’s Danny?”
Gideon pointed at the temporary arcade set up on the other side of the square. “He’s found the games.”
“I don’t normally let him go off on his own.”
“He’s almost eight. Let the kid spread his wings a little, Mother Hen.”
“I’d just feel better if you were with him.”
“We can see him from here.”
“He could disappear in an instant.”
“This is Twilight. What could possibly happen? Everyone knows him and he knows everyone. He’s safe, Caitlyn.”
Rationally, she knew that, but she couldn’t turn off her worry gene.
Gideon rubbed his finger over the one-hundred-dollar bill. “I’m a paying customer,” he enticed.
“I don’t have change for a hundred.”
“I don’t want change.”
“You’re buying a hundred dollars’ worth of kisses?”
“I am and let’s get something straight. I’m not interested in those cheek kisses.”
“That’s all I’m offering.”
“No exceptions?”
“None,” she flirted. “It wouldn’t be fair to give you mouth kisses when that area is off limits to everyone else.”
“Okay,” he drawled, and lowered his eyelids. “What about other kinds of kisses?”
“What do you mean?”
“How much are butterfly kisses?”
“What are butterfly kisses?”
“You’ve never had butterfly kisses?”
“No.”
He shook his head. “You haven’t lived.”
“Because I’ve been in my cocoon.”
“So the butterfly hasn’t hatched yet.”
“That’s right.”
“How about I give you a preview of the life waiting for you outside the boundaries of your cocoon, Madam Butterfly.”
“By giving me a butterfly kiss?”
“That’s right.”
“How much should I charge?”
“Well,” he said, “it’s more intimate than a cheek kiss, but not as personal as a mouth kiss. How about a dollar fifty?”
“How about you explain what a butterfly kiss is first.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“Don’t take it personally. I don’t trust most people.”
“Hazard of being born and raised a rich girl? You automatically assume people like you for your money and not who you are?”
That startled her. Was he right? Was that one explanation for her wariness?
“You’ll just have to take it on faith,” he said.
“Or give you a pass and kiss the next person in line. She looked over his shoulder to see another customer of the geriatric variety.
“Or you could just trust me.” He grinned.
“Okay fine, give me a butterfly kiss.” She leaned across the booth, hands gripping the counter.
Gideon leaned into her. He smelled so good. Like nutmeg and sandalwood soap. His face was so close, his lips almost touching hers.
Her breathing came hard and fast. He pressed his forehead against hers, stared straight into her eyes, and then he blinked. His eyelashes caressed her skin. He blinked rapidly. Each time his eyes brushed her skin, she felt a tingling rush of sensation spread over her entire forehead. Silly that she should find it incredibly erotic, but she did.
“That,” he said huskily, “was a butterfly kiss.”
“Where’d you learn that?”
“My mom.”
It was amazingly intimate. He stopped blinking, but he was staring deep into her eyes, not moving, simply looking as if he stood there long enough, he could see the answer to every question he’d ever had.
“Okay,” she said, feeling breathless and out of control.
“Then,” he said, “there are Eskimo kisses. I know the term isn’t politically correct, but I don’t know what else they’re called.”
“Now, I do know what Eskimo kisses are.”
“How much do they cost?”
“Let’s say a dollar fifty like the butterfly kisses,” she negotiated.
“Sounds fair.” Slowly, gently, with their faces less than a breath apart, he rubbed his nose over hers.
Caitlyn rubbed back, thrilling to the sensation. It was downright fun, exploring all the ways to kiss.
“Let’s not forget angel kisses.”
“Where are you getting all this?”
“Told you, my mom. She was an affectionate woman.”
“So what’s an angel kiss?”
“Close your eyes.”
“Gideon . . .”
“Trust me.”
Sh
e let out a breath of air and closed her eyes. As soon as her visual sense was cut off, the rest of her senses became more acute. She heard the vendor in the next booth scooping ice, could smell cotton candy on the breeze, could feel the wood of the booth against her palms.
And feel the pressure of Gideon’s lips as he lightly kissed one eyelid and then the other. “Angel kisses,” he murmured.
She opened her eyes, found herself whispering, “What else?”
“Earlobe kisses.”
“That’ll be a dollar an earlobe.”
“Hey!” said the geezer behind Gideon. “Stop hogging the kissin’ girl.”
Gideon held up his hundred-dollar bill.
“Darn it,” the old man said, and wandered off.
“Now where were we?” Gideon asked.
“Earlobe kisses,” Caitlyn said, enjoying this more than she should be and turning her head to give him full access to her earlobe.
“Good thing you wore a ponytail.”
“Good thing.”
Then his hot mouth was at her earlobe. He took it between his teeth, sucked gently.
The sensation was like a lightning bolt straight to her solar plexus. Right there in the middle of the town square at noonday, surrounded by a throng of tourists, Caitlyn got turned on. Like a water faucet. Turned on in a way she hadn’t been turned on since the last time he’d sucked her earlobe.
This wasn’t wise. This wasn’t smart. Her sex was moist and hot. She pulled back, cleared her throat, and dropped her gaze. “That’s enough of the earlobe kisses.”
“But I only got one lobe,” he protested. “And I got a lot of money left.”
She presented her cheek. “You can have all the cheek kisses you want.”
“One for tradition.” He skimmed his lips over her cheek. “Then one with a twist.”
“What—”
But she was interrupted when he kissed her cheek a second time and whispered simultaneously, “I want to kiss you in a hundred different places.”
She pulled back, felt heat rise to her face. “Gideon!”
“I could have said something much naughtier.”
She took the one-hundred-dollar bill from his fingers. “Consider the rest a donation.”
“Only if you’ll help me out.”
“How’s that?”
“I’ve gotten roped into this VFW Memorial Day picnic and I need a date. Please don’t leave me hanging,” Gideon said.
“I’d need to find a babysitter.”
“You could ask the judge.”
“Honestly, this isn’t really my sort of thing. I’m more of a homebody.”
“It’s not my thing either. Go with me. It won’t be our thing together.”
“So why are you going?”
He raised his left arm. “Apparently I’m the war hero du jour who needs honoring.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“I don’t like it. I don’t consider myself a hero. I was just doing a job, but it seems to make everyone else happy.”
“You want to go?”
“I want to take you out.”
She met his gaze. “You can do that without dragging me off to the VFW picnic.”
“I’ve agreed to go to the event and I need a plus-one.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Don’t leave me hanging.”
“Scoot, you’re holding up the line.”
“I meant what I said about kissing you in a hundred different places, if that affects your decision any.” He held her gaze for a long moment, and then he turned and walked away, leaving Caitlyn feeling very hot and bothered.
Chapter Twenty
Traditional meaning of pink and white roses—I love you still and always will.
When the crowd at the VFW hall greeted him with “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow” the minute he walked in the door for the Memorial Day picnic, it was all Gideon could do to not turn tail and run.
The place smelled of beer, cigars, and barbecue sauce. A banner hung from the back wall of the paneled room read: “Gideon Garza Hometown Hero.” And a big sheet cake stretched out on the table laden with food was emblazoned with “We Love You Gideon.”
The attention made him feel uncomfortable. Not just because he didn’t consider himself a hero but because there were three dozen men in this room just as worthy of Memorial Day recognition as he was.
People came over to clap him on the back and shake his hand. Repeatedly, he was thanked for his service to his country. As if he’d had a choice. Judge Blackthorne and J. Foster had made sure the army had been his only option. He searched the room looking for Caitlyn, but saw she wasn’t here.
“Get yourself a plate and c’mon outside. We’ve got a nice picnic table under a pecan tree overlooking the lake.” Hondo waved at the buffet table and then at the door that led outside to the picnic area.
Feeling out of place without a date, but determined to make the best of it, he loaded up a plate with smoked brisket and coleslaw, potato salad and baked beans, yeast rolls and apple cobbler, and moved to follow Hondo outside.
He’d no sooner settled in than Hondo asked, “How are things with you and Caitlyn?”
“Um, fine.” He busied himself cutting the beef brisket into bite-sized pieces.
“Young man.” An elderly gentleman wearing a Pearl Harbor cap and pushing a walker with neon yellow tennis balls on the legs sidled up to their picnic table. His hair was the color of a snuff tin, his eyes a faded Old Glory blue. He spoke in a wavering East Texas accent. “My name’s Mort Gilchrest and I just had to come over and shake your hand and thank you for your service.”
Gideon clenched his jaw against the emotion. This old guy was the real hero. A Pearl Harbor survivor. Not many of those guys left. He reached out and shook Mort’s hand, then saluted him. “It’s a real pleasure to meet you, sir, and thank you for your service.”
The old veteran flicked a glance at Gideon’s artificial hand. “I heard about what happened to you over there. I’m real sorry for your loss.”
Gideon shrugged. “All part of the deal.”
“Yeah,” Hondo echoed.
A short silence passed between the three of them. Servicemen who’d all lost a lot in the pursuit of freedom. Nonmilitary personnel could never understand. Which was the point of the VFW. To have someone to talk to who’d marched a mile in your boots. And since Gideon had been coming here, sharing war stories, he’d stopped feeling so alone, stopped having the nightmares.
“I just want you to know, we don’t take you for granted,” Mort said, then slowly moved away.
Hondo’s eyes lit up then and Gideon swiveled to see what he was looking at. Patsy Cross had come through the door carrying a plate in her hand. She spotted Hondo, and a huge smile spread across her face. She strolled over and Hondo scooted down to make room beside him on his side of the bench.
“I still can’t believe the victory garden judging is in two days. We still have so much to do. After the picnic, I’m heading back over there to get in the finishing touches.”
“Me too,” Hondo said.
“I think we’re going to win.” Patsy smiled.
“Now don’t go counting your chickens,” Hondo warned.
“Bite your tongue, Hondo Crouch, you have no romance in your soul.”
“That wasn’t what you said last night,” Hondo murmured, and gently tickled her.
“Shh, you old goat, you’ll embarrass Gideon.”
Gideon washed down his brisket with a swallow of lemonade and wished like hell Caitlyn hadn’t stood him up.
“Well, look who just walked up,” Hondo said.
“Caitlyn.” Patsy waved a hand. “Yoo-hoo. Over here.”
Gideon looked over his shoulder and his eyes hugged Caitlyn. Her blond hair was piled atop her head with a clip in a loose, feminine style that gave her an angelic appearance. Her cheeks were pink as if she’d been rushing around, and she wore a yellow print skirt and a simple white cotton V-neck
blouse that made her look like one of those prognosticating flowers you pulled the petals off and recited with each dropped sliver, “She loves me, she loves me not.”
He felt like he did the first time he’d seen her in high school walking across the quad on that spring morning, books clutched to her chest, a slight smile on her face. She’d reached up a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her delicate ear, her movements gentle and graceful. For the briefest of moments, she’d glanced up and met his gaze, giving him a glimpse of the most gorgeous blue eyes he’d ever seen and smiled oh so slightly.
And he’d fallen like a meteor crashing to earth. Even though it had taken him two more years to get around to asking her out.
Tulip, he’d thought it then as he thought it now. There’s sunshine in your smile.
“Yoo-hoo.” Patsy waved.
“Hi,” Caitlyn said, sounding as breathless as she looked. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
She sat down beside Gideon and he could feel her body heat. Close. So close. His gaze zeroed in on her full lips shiny with strawberry gloss. She smelled like strawberries too.
He had an urge to drum his fingers against the table, restlessly bob his knee up and down, for he felt a cosmic force rise up inside him, push hard against his heart. Hondo had said he would know when it was right, and one look in those eyes and he knew. It was right. He wasn’t afraid anymore.
“Danny’s spending the night at my father’s,” Caitlyn murmured.
“Got any plans for after the picnic?”
“Got any suggestions?”
He grinned. “Are you free?”
“Are you asking me out?”
“Actually, I’m asking you in.”
“What do you have in mind?” She giggled.
“Come to my room at the Merry Cherub at seven P.M.,” he said, getting up from the table.
“Hey, where are you going?”
“I have to get ready. This is going to be a night you’ll never forget.”
When Caitlyn saw Gideon’s bedroom at the Merry Cherub, all the breath fled her lungs. She stood in the doorway, mouth agape, heart thumping, mind spinning, senses buzzing.
For strewn about the room were hundreds of pink and white rose petals. On the bed, on the floor, floating in the spa tub, everywhere she looked. Her eyes misted and she blinked back happy tears. She had seen a lot of flowers in her life, but no romantic gesture like this one. Here lay paradise. “Do you know what pink and white roses mean?”
