A Better Reason to Fall in Love

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  Tabby nearly melted as Jagger did, indeed, kiss her back. Quickly, she was no longer the instigator of the kiss but the recipient. Realizing how forward she must appear, she shyly pulled away from him.

  “Did I do okay then?” he asked. “Considering it’s our first date and all?”

  Tabby literally had to concentrate to keep from weeping. Did he do okay? It was astonishing! Her favorite Kevin Bacon movie—playing at a drive-in? They were sitting in the back of an old pickup drinking root beer from glass bottles and eating popcorn out of a brown paper bag. For Pete’s sake—it was perfect!

  “I-I just can’t believe it,” she stammered. “I can’t believe that you could even find this…that you would remember I liked Footloose and Kevin Bacon. I can’t believe you would go to all this trouble.”

  Jagger smiled and sighed as if he’d been anxiously holding his breath.

  “It was no trouble,” he mumbled, his attention lingering on her mouth. “No trouble at all.”

  He plunged his hand into the brown paper bag, retrieving a handful of popcorn and stuffing the whole amount into his mouth. Offering the bag to Tabby, he smiled. “This is living, baby. Moments like these are what it’s all about, right?”

  “Absolutely,” Tabby said, reaching into the bag and gathering a handful of popcorn.

  Jagger relaxed a bit, leaned back in the folding chair, and exhaled a heavy sigh. She liked it! He felt profoundly relieved all of a sudden. Oh, certainly it made sense she would like it, but he’d been worried all the same.

  Several days before, when he’d seen that Footloose was playing at the old Highway 550 drive-in, he instantly thought of Tabby (not that he didn’t instantly think of her no matter what these days)—instantly remembered she’d said Footloose was one of her favorite movies. Furthermore, if he’d learned nothing else about her while being snowed in at her house (and he’d learned plenty), he’d picked up on the fact that she was very much like him—that she truly enjoyed nostalgia and valued it.

  Thus, when he’d seen what movie was playing at the old drive-in, he’d also thought of the fun he’d had going to the drive-in as a kid. In fact, in that very moment, as he closed his eyes, he could almost smell the scent of Louisiana summers—of grass and flowers and the stillness of the swamps and bayous. He could almost taste the bottled pop his Maw Maw would pack up in the ice chest—almost taste the popcorn she would pop. If he kept his eyes closed, he could almost see his Paw Paw setting up three lawn chairs in the back of the old yellow pickup—almost feel the heavy, moist air of a Louisiana night and what it felt like to linger in the loving company of his grandparents.

  Yep—when he’d seen Footloose was playing, everything else had just fallen into place. He opened his eyes and looked to Tabby. He could swear she was ready to cry! Yet the smile on her face as she watched the movie starting on the big screen, her head bobbing along in time to the music, spoke volumes. He’d hit the nail on the head. For once in his life—and perhaps when it mattered most—he’d nailed the moment.

  He glanced at her, grinning as he thought of her kissing him. He’d obviously managed to make some real brownie points with this one. He hoped the little something he had planned to cap the evening off would really win her over. With any luck, once he’d put his secret wooing card on the table, he’d be a little closer to winning the heart of the dead-sexy redhead sharing a double folding chair with him.

  Jagger chuckled, taking a swig from his bottle of root beer. He couldn’t wait to see her face when he “pulled the rabbit out of his hat,” so to speak. It would be hard to wait through two movies—to keep his little surprise a secret that long. Still, the best things in life were worth waiting for—and Tabitha Flanders was well worth any wait.

  As the opening credits and song ended, Tabby sighed with contentment. She looked to Jagger to see him lounging in the chair next to her, drinking his root beer and looking way too ultra-cool for his own good. She wanted to hug him—to kiss him—to absolutely shower him with affection! She wanted his arms around her—wanted to sit in the back of his grandpa’s old pickup and watch movies with him forever. She wanted to do everything with him forever!

  All at once, the doubting words of both Jocelyn’s father and Naomi echoed in her mind. You need a better reason to fall in love. That was what they’d both said—it’s what Jocelyn’s father had told her, and it’s what Naomi had said to Jocelyn and Emmy.

  She studied Jagger a moment. She watched the way his lips kissed the mouth of the root beer bottle—wished she were the root beer bottle. Were one night spent sequestered because of a snowstorm, one kiss, and one Kevin Bacon movie really a good enough reasons to fall in love? Maybe not—but then again, maybe so. After all, it was actually two Kevin Bacon movies. Furthermore, Tabby still believed it—she still believed anything was possible.

  ❦

  “I guess it’s still a little early to be too hopeful the weather will stay warm until midnight, right?” Jagger said as he pulled a fleece blanket out from behind the seat in the cab of the pickup.

  “I guess,” Tabby confirmed as Jagger spread the blanket over her lap. “But it just now got chilly, and we’re already halfway through the second feature.”

  Halfway through the second movie, sitting in the bed of the pickup had become a little too uncomfortable temperature-wise. Jagger had pulled the truck around into a different spot so the cab now faced the movie screen. He’d quickly rigged the speakers through the windows so they could sit in the shelter of the cab to watch the rest of the second movie.

  Tabby smiled as Jagger pulled her across the seat to sit next to him. He placed one strong arm around her shoulders and hugged her tightly to himself.

  “That’s another good thing about old pickups,” he said, smiling down at her. “No bucket seats to interfere with—you know…different methods of using body heat to keep warm.”

  Tabby giggled, delighted by his flirting. She looked out through the pickup’s front window to the large movie screen. Kevin Bacon’s character was busy making deliveries via bicycle, but she hardly cared. What woman could possibly pay attention to a movie when the soothing scent of leather, shaving gel, and spearmint had you wrapped in his arms?

  “Have you seen this one before?” she asked.

  “Oh, yeah,” he said. “For some reason, I kind of dig it. You know…the whole beaten-down-then-bouncing-back-up thing,” he said, referring to the plot of the movie. “Plus, he’s so, like…heroic. Saving the girl and all, getting the money together for his friend’s business. It is kind of low-budget…but I like it anyway.”

  “Me too,” Tabby said. “It’s very romantic.”

  Jagger chuckled and pulled her more tightly against him.

  “You warm enough?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she answered—though she thought she’d be even warmer if he were kissing her. “Thanks for all this,” she whispered.

  “Huh?” he asked.

  “Thank you,” she repeated, “for all this. Footloose, the drive-in, the root beer, the chairs in the back of the truck.” She sighed. “Your popcorn was good, by the way,” she added. “Honestly, this was the best date I’ve ever been on…in my whole life.”

  “Because of the date itself…or the company?” he asked.

  Tabby looked at him. “Both.” She sighed and snuggled against him. “You’re right, you know. It doesn’t get any better than this.”

  “What if I told you it does?” he asked.

  Tabby leaned away from him in order to study his expression more thoroughly.

  “What do you mean?” she asked. “How could it possibly get better than this?”

  Jagger’s expression changed to that of mischief—to that of knowing something Tabby didn’t.

  “What if, right this minute, I could make your wildest dreams come true?” he asked, green eyes sparkling with triumph.

  Was he going to propose to her? After all, it was her wildest dream—to be married to Jagger Brodie. She hadn’t spoken the w
ords aloud—not to anybody—but it was true all the same.

  “What do you mean?” she asked as her heart began to pound so hard she could imagine a herd of buffalo was stampeding toward them.

  “I just happen to have a little something for you,” he said. Releasing her, he reached behind the seat and produced a framed photograph. The frame was about eleven inches wide and fourteen inches long. It was black with a white matte under the glass. There, in the center of the piece, was a photograph—a photograph of a group of seven people.

  “Look…right there,” Jagger said, pointing to a man in the center of the group of people.

  Tabby felt her jaw drop and heard herself gasp. There, in the center of the group of people, stood a young Footloose-attired Kevin Bacon!

  “No way!” Tabby breathed.

  “Wait,” Jagger chuckled. “It gets better. You didn’t notice this.” Tabby looked to where Jagger was pointing to the lower-right corner of the photo. A nearly illegible signature appeared there, though the letters K and B were discernible.

  “Are you kidding me?” Tabby exclaimed.

  “No…and it’s yours,” Jagger said. “It was taken during the filming of Footloose,” he explained.

  Tabby looked up at him. “Are you just messing with me?”

  “Never,” he said. She could see the sincerity in his eyes.

  “eBay?” she asked.

  Jagger shook his head and said, “Aunt Bay, actually. My aunt Bayleene…and it gets better.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What if I told you…that I got this picture from my Aunt Bayleene…who was a movie extra in Footloose…with Kevin Bacon? What if I told you that Kevin Bacon signed this photo for my Aunt Bay when she was eighteen, which means this: you’ve kissed me, and I’ve kissed my Aunt Bayleene—though not in the same way, of course.”

  “Of course,” Tabby giggled as she realized where he was leading.

  “And Aunt Bayleene shook Kevin Bacon’s hand when she was in Footloose with him.” He smiled with utter triumph. “And that, sugar petals…is how I just made your wildest dreams come true. I just linked you to Kevin Bacon in fewer than six degrees.”

  “Sugar petals?” Tabby giggled as she glanced back to the photograph.

  “Yeah,” he said. “And are you impressed?”

  Tabby shook her head in disbelief. “I know you…and you have your Aunt Bayleene…who was actually in Footloose…with Kevin Bacon?”

  “Yep.” He pointed to a pretty teenage girl standing next to Kevin Bacon in the photo. “That’s her…my Aunt Bayleene. This was taken before they started filming the prom-thing scene at the end of the movie. Check out the ’80s clothes. Awesome!”

  Tabby tried to keep the tears gathering in her eyes from escaping to roll down her cheeks. Gently, she traced the outline of the photograph with her fingers.

  “I can’t…you can’t give this to me,” she whispered. “It’s priceless. I can’t let your aunt part with it.”

  Jagger shrugged. “It’s okay. She has three more. She actually gave me this one, one year for my birthday.”

  Tabby looked up at him, careless of the moisture in her eyes.

  “I can’t accept it,” she said.

  Jagger smiled and brushed a hair from her cheek.

  “Sure you can,” he said. “I figure there’s nobody in the world that will see it the way you do. And besides, it’s your connection to the man himself…the big K.B.”

  Tabby felt a tear leave her eye and trickle over her cheek. She bit her lip, trying to keep more from escaping.

  “I can’t believe you,” she whispered. “Seriously…you can’t be real.”

  “Seriously, it’s not that big a deal,” he said. But to Tabby it was; to Tabby, it was nothing short of miraculous.

  “Here,” he said, taking the framed photograph from her and slipping it behind the seat once more. “You can freak out over that later. Right now, you’re missing the movie.”

  Tabby smiled. She studied him a moment—watched him open another root beer.

  “You just gave me my official Bacon number, you know,” she said.

  “Your Bacon number?” he asked.

  “Yeah…three. My Bacon number is three—meaning I’m linked to Kevin Bacon in three degrees,” she mumbled.

  Jagger laughed and put the root beer bottle to his lips. Tabby watched him, again thinking she’d more than love to change places with the root beer bottle.

  “Well, maybe now…now that you finally know your Bacon number and all,” he began. His eyes narrowed, and when he spoke again, his voice was low and smooth like warm, rich syrup. “Maybe I can work on getting my Tabby number.”

  Tabby giggled and brushed another tear from the corner of her eye.

  “Your Tabby number?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he said, setting the root beer on the dashboard as his right arm encircled her shoulders. “I was thinking it should be, like…zero.”

  “Zero?” she breathed, sensing his delicious intention.

  “Yeah,” he mumbled. “As in zero degrees of separation between me and Tabby.”

  “How do we get zero degrees of separation between us?” she asked, though the tingling in her lips at the anticipation of his kiss had already answered.

  He grinned. “You just kissed me to thank me for linking you to old K.B…and bam…zero degrees of separation.”

  Tabby smiled. Her heart was near to bursting with elation—with love and desire.

  Slowly, she took hold of the front of his shirt, leaning toward him as he leaned back against the seat and door of the pickup.

  “You might wanna brace for impact, Mr. Brodie,” Tabby whispered. “I’m about to thank you for making my wildest dream come true.” Jagger smiled, gathering her into his arms and against the warm strength of his body. “Thank you,” she breathed.

  “And thank you, Kevin Bacon,” Jagger mumbled a moment before Tabby kissed him.

  Her kiss was soft, tentative—grateful. Yet Jagger sensed her desire too. Her body was warm in his arms, alluring, and he had to be careful not to squeeze her too tightly—had to concentrate on gently holding her instead of vise-gripping her the way he wanted to. He could smell her skin, her hair—she was like ambrosia to his senses. He tried to return her kiss gently, with great restraint, and he managed to do so—for about a minute.

  Tabitha Flanders literally bewitched him! He couldn’t keep from tightening his embrace, from taking over as the engineer and manipulator of their affectionate exchange. Moreover, the fact that she instantly, willingly, and gratefully submitted to the change of power only fueled the passion rising in him.

  As his mouth began to dominate hers—to beg for recompense—Jagger thought he’d never been so close to the edge of losing his self-control. She was soft and warm, and her kisses tasted like some beguiling nectar a person only read about in fantasy novels. She absolutely bewitched him—stripped him of any coherent thinking. He thought of the day he’d seen her at Armando’s restaurant—the day he’d sat right there at the table and written the outline for his song “Bewitch Me, Baby” on a napkin from the Acapulco. He wondered if she knew how interested he was in her—how attractive she was to him—how his thoughts had begun to be about almost nothing else. He wondered if he had a chance—really had a chance to own her.

  For a moment, he kind of wished he hadn’t made such an effort to fulfill her Kevin Bacon number thing. Maybe she only liked him for his Bacon number. However, a moment later, as he felt her arms wrap around him—felt her melt against him as the intensity of their kiss increased—well, he didn’t care if she only liked him for his stupid Bacon number. He’d take it!

  He’d think she was easy for sure! As Tabby’s mind fought to hang onto some sense of reality, she knew Jagger Brodie must think she was not only crazy but easy. Still, she couldn’t stop kissing him! He was dominating every sense she owned, and her heart was beating at an insane, unhealthy pace.

  How could he be real? How c
ould he have been so thoughtful? His planning had been so individually geared toward her, there was no doubt about it. How would she ever settle down? How would she ever go home, go back to work, and come down off such an emotionally elative high? She never would—she never wanted to!

  Suddenly, he broke the seal of their lips, took her face between his hands, and asked, “Are you kissing me because you like me…or because I provided you with the coveted Bacon number?”

  “Because I like you,” Tabby confessed in a whisper. “I liked you long before I knew you were so tight with K.B.”

  His eyes narrowed as he smiled. “Maybe you only like me because I have a cute butt,” he teased.

  “Maybe you only like me because I remind you of Ginger on Gilligan’s Island,” she countered.

  “Maybe I made the whole Ginger thing up to get on your good side,” he said, running one thumb over her lips. “Maybe I was always a Mary Ann man…until I met you.”

  “Were you?” she asked, gazing into his eyes.

  He smiled. “I don’t remember,” he mumbled against her mouth.

  In that next moment, Tabby didn’t care if Jagger Brodie thought she’d fallen into kissing him too easily. His driven, moist, warm, demanding kiss was owning her, and she reveled in the wonder of it—for more than half an hour—until Kevin Bacon had beaten the bad guy and won the girl and the movie credits were rolling at the old Highway 550 drive-in.