We drift through the decent sized department store, looking for the women’s clothing section. Finally, we find it and I’m not greeted with many choices to pick from as far as robes go.
“Here, try this one on.” Wes hands me a mauve colored robe that’s smothered in pastel flowers. His lips are curled under and I can tell he’s trying not to laugh. My obvious discomfort by hideous robes is his entertainment.
My lips curl, and my nose scrunches in disgust. “You’re joking right. That has to be the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.” I attempt to hang it back on the rack when Wes snatches it away from me.
“Come on, I bet it’ll look great on you.” He smirks at me in a teasing manner. Wes removes it from the hanger and walks up behind me. He taps me on the shoulder before murmuring close to my ear. “Just play along.”
With a shrug of my shoulders, I decide that if he wants a show, then that’s what he will get. I spin around to face him before I yank the hideous robe out of his hand. I reach out and seize a robe in every style before I grab his hand and link his fingers with mine. Boisterous laughter escapes me at his stunned expression as I pull him toward the dressing rooms. After we search for what seems like endless minutes, I eventually find one. A blue, cloth chair sits in front of a set of three full-length mirrors, all angled to give a person the best view from each side behind them. I guide him to the chair and push him into it. “Now, you just sit there and enjoy the show. I’ll be right back. Keep your eyes closed until I tell you to open them,” I say, swaying my hips back and forth, as I saunter into a dressing room and close the door behind me.
Since he chose this disgusting, pinkish colored robe first, I decide that it’s the one he wants to see me in the most. I slip the robe on over my clothes, secure the belt around my waist, and make my way out of the tiny cubicle. His eyes are still closed when I step in front of the three mirrors. I catch a glimpse of myself and can’t help but think how I look like one of the women from Golden Girls. I pull the collar of the robe tightly under my chin, and bat my eyelashes when I purr, “You can open your eyes, Stud.”
The clamorous laugh erupts from deep within him.
I feign as if he’s just hurt my feelings. “What don’t you like it?”
“Okay, you were right. It’s pretty ugly.”
“Oh, you just wait. If you think this one is bad, I have another one for ya. It’s nothing compared to this one, but still pretty bad.” I bounce back to the dressing room to replace the atrocious robe with another.
This one is dark green and striped in white and red, making me look like a piece of Christmas wrapping paper. “Are you ready?” I ask, before coming out.
“I don’t know. Is this one worse than the last one?” he asks.
“Not as bad, but it’s still awful.”
“Bring it on. I can handle it,” he replies.
This time, I leave the robe open; the green fabric flies away from my sides as I walk in front of where he’s sitting. Doing my best version of a pirouette, I ask, “So, what do you think?”
“I thought Christmas was months ago?” He rubs his chin with his forefinger and looks like he’s deep in thought.
“I know. Right?” I reply, sarcastically, turning to look at myself in the mirror. “If you put a big ass, red bow on me, I could be a present.”
“Yes, you could. My very own Christmas present that I would love to unwrap.” A mischievous smile plays on his lips, and I know that he isn’t joking.
I choose to ignore his little comment. “All right, I have one more.” I hurry back and strip myself of the Christmas themed robe.
“Did you save the best for last?”
“Of course. I am a woman.” My tone makes it sound so obvious. I stand in the dressing room, staring at the next abomination to fashion. It’s a purple number covered with tubes of lipstick, compact mirrors, hairbrushes, vanities, and bottles of perfume. I have to give it credit for something that the last two didn’t have. At least the material is soft and fluffy. Although I’d like to say that this one is the ugliest, I think that each robe I’ve tried on actually ties for the most grotesque. Digging through my purse, I locate the brush that I’ll need for the number I’m about to perform. This time, I tie the belt around my waist again. I feel like someone who just stepped out of the eighties.
When I shove the door open, I walk out in front of Wes. The hand holding the brush stays tucked behind my back. My hair falls loosely around my shoulders when I rip the hair tie from it with the other hand. Softly, I begin to hum the beat to Girls Just Wanna Have Fun by Cindy Lauper. It doesn’t take long before I begin to belt out the lyrics. My brush as my microphone, held in front of my mouth, my eyes tightly screwed shut, I belt out the lyrics with all my heart.
When my eyes open, I shimmy and shake what my momma gave me in front of Wes, the dressing room attendant, and the three mirrors that are now my backdrop. I look into his eyes, singing to him in the soulful jazzy tone that I’ve been told I have, and drown everything and everyone else out around us. By the time my encore draws to a close, I look around to see numerous sets of eyes on me, but there’s only one set of soul searching, hypnotizing eyes that keep pulling me back. Wes smiles like the Cheshire cat and begins applauding my performance. Hoots and hollers echo throughout the store and cause my face to ignite with a blush. Purposely, I lean into Wes asking, “You ready to go? I think we might have overstayed our welcome.”
On my way back to the dressing room, my fingers dig into the knotted fabric, untying the belt around my waist as I go. As the soft material starts to slip over the curve of my shoulders, calloused fingers smooth over my skin. Warmth rushes through me when I hear the unmistakable, husky tone of Wes’ voice. “Let me.” He slides the arms of the robe the rest of the way down, and sets my skin ablaze from his touch.
“Thank you,” I mumble before I step away from his closeness. I plead with my body to forego the crazy thoughts running through my mind right now. I’d be completely delusional if I said his touch didn’t shock my system. After several deep breaths, I slap on a smile, gather my purse, and turn around. “You ready?” I ask, my eyes meeting his.
“Uh… Aren’t you gonna get one of those?” He points to the robes hanging on the wall behind me.
I shake my head and reach for his hand to pull him away from the dressing rooms. “There is no way you could get me back into one of those robes. If I have to drive back to San Antonio to pick mine up from the dorm, then that’s what I’ll do.”
We walk out of the store and head toward his truck. I drop his hand from mine and make a run for it, because I know he’s going to want to drive. I’ve not made it very far when strong, masculine arms wrap around my waist and haul me off my feet. My body twists and turns as I try to escape Wes’ hold.
“Keys, please,” he says in an amused tone. It’s not a question. He wants me to hand over his keys.
“What? Why? My driving wasn’t that bad,” I squeal as I try to get away. Fisting the keys in my palm, I lift them above my head and out of his reach.
A wicked gleam reflects in the blue pools of his eyes, and one of his hands attacks my rib cage. I wail in laughter, my arms and legs flailing about, as he continues his tickling assault on me. “Just give me the keys, Kenleigh, and all this will be over,” he says over my cackling.
“Never!” I shout, trying my damnedest to keep the keys out of his reach.
“You asked for it.” Effortlessly, Wes tosses me over his shoulder as if I weigh nothing. I know the moment he takes off full speed, running in the direction of the truck. The arm wrapped over the back of my thighs tightens. My hair, which I never put back up, whips me in the face, flying in front of me like a veil. My hips bounce up and down off his shoulder every time his feet hit the pavement.
In-between my laughter, I yell, “Uncle! Uncle! I call uncle!”
“You forfeit?” His strides begin to slow.
“Yes. I forfeit,” I say, still laughing loudly. Not only did I put on a show in
Kris’, but now we’ve put one on in the parking lot, as well.
Gently, I’m placed on my feet. I take numerous, calming breaths. My smile never falters when I look up at him. Wes’ blue eyes sparkle with triumph. “Now, how about those keys?” His hand is open and waiting.
Reluctantly, I drop the keys in his hand, humphing in defeat. “Thanks, Gorgeous.” Wes quickly kisses my cheek before he jogs over to the driver’s side of the truck.
Immediately, my eyes widen in shock. The left side of my face burns where his lips briefly touched my skin. Again, deep calming breaths.
After a few moments, I slide into the passenger seat and choose to act as if that little scene didn’t have an effect me. Although, it did. It really, really did. When my seat belts click in place, I look up to find Wes watching me. “What did you need to get from the store?”
With his arm stretched out across the back of the seat, he looks out the rear window while he backs out of the space. “Some Oreos. Mom never keeps any in the house.”
“Oreos?” For some reason, I’m not convinced that Oreos is all he needs.
“Yeah. Oreos. What can I say? I’m addicted to the cream filling.” He shrugs.
Two blocks later, we pull into Dale’s, the local grocery store. I hop out of the truck and slam the door behind me. Right away, Wes is by my side. “So, do you have any little addictions of your own?” he asks, his tone hopeful, like I might let him in on a little secret.
“Mmm-hmm. Snickers ice cream bars.”
“That’s it?”
“I like to dip it in peanut butter, first.” Now it’s my turn to shrug.
“No offense, but that sounds gross.”
“Hey! Don’t knock it until you try it. And I could say the same thing about you and your cream filling.” I shove him sideways casually.
His eyebrows raise and a sly smile plays on his face. “My cream filling huh?” Mortified. That’s the only way to describe what I feel right now. My face burns with embarrassment. I refuse to respond to his question. When we reach the shopping carts, Wes pulls one out of the rack and looks at me expectantly. He nods his head toward the empty buggy. “Get in.”
Without hesitation, I hop in and sit cross-legged, while he pushes. I smell him before I hear him. “Hold on tight, we’re about to fly through this store,” he whispers in my ear.
My hands fly to the sides of the buggy and grip the cold metal. A smile blooms on my face when my hair flies back as we go sailing up and down the aisles. Mothers with children look at us as though we’re setting a bad example. Young couples catcall as we coast by them. The elderly give us that look that says I-remember-what-it-was-like-to-be-young. Just as we turn down an aisle flooded with boxes of cereal, a man steps directly in our path. His uniform consists of navy blue dress pants and a red vest with a nametag that I can’t read. He stands with his arms crossed over his chest, as if daring us to continue towards him.
“Hold on tight,” Wes calls from behind me. My hands fly up to cover my eyes when I feel the cart lean. A gasp of shock escapes; my hands spring away from my face, and grip the edges of the cart as I was instructed to do in the first place. My eyes pop open when the basket lands with a loud thud, upright, in the front of the store. Before I know what’s happening, I’m thrown over Wes’ shoulder for the second time today as he hauls ass out of the store.
“What’s going on?” I ask, reeling from what just happened.
“That dude looked like he was about to call the cops.” Wes pants in between breaths.
My hands dig into his lower back as I try to push myself up to see if the store attendant is coming after us. When there’s no sign of him, I say, “But we didn’t get your Oreos.”
A faint beep sounds from behind me when we come to an abrupt halt. Before I know it, I’m tossed into the passenger side of the truck, and the door slams beside me. I reach over and fasten my seatbelt as Wes jumps in and starts the truck. The tires squeal as we back out and make our hasty escape from Dale’s. Only the sound of Wes’ heavy breathing fills the cab until I break into uncontrollable laughter. My eyes water, I can’t catch my breath, my stomach cramps, and this ridiculous smile won’t leave my face. “Why are you laughing?” he asks.
I’m laughing so hard that I couldn’t answer him if I tried.
After a few minutes, my laughter dies down and gives me the reprieve I need. I look at him. Really look at him—at Wes. My eyes are drawn to how the sunlight beams off his sandy blond hair, giving me a glimpse of the different shades of reds and browns that mix within the blond, his deep tan that can only be perfected by good genetics, and those captivating blue eyes that hold me hostage when he looks at me. “Thank you,” I say whole-heartedly.
“For what?” He looks between the road and me.
“I haven’t had that much fun in a long time. Actually, I haven’t laughed this hard in a long time. So, thank you.” I lean my head back on the headrest facing him.
With a smile of his own, he replies, “Anytime.”
I don’t know how it happened, but Wes has gotten to me, and I think I might have a new addiction soon.
“Do you mind if I take a quick detour? I still want those damn Oreos.”
I give a soft chuckle. “No, go ahead. I’m just gonna rest my eyes real quick.” A yawn escapes me, as my eyelids grow heavy.
My arms seem heavy, but my body feels warm—content. I snuggle into the warmth beneath me, only to feel something hard and unyielding. As my eyes flutter open, all I see is blue, a blue shirt, and blue eyes. That’s when I remember that I fell asleep in the truck. One arm supports my back, and I can feel the rippled muscles bulge, while the other stays firmly tucked under my legs. I wiggle and try to jump out of Wes’ hold. “It’s okay. You fell asleep. I was only carrying you inside,” he says, holding me tighter to him.
“Why didn’t you just wake me up?” I give up on my struggle because he’s obviously not going to put me down.
“I tried, but you wouldn’t budge. I couldn’t just leave you in the truck.”
The answer is simple and now I feel like a dumbass.
“Well, I’m awake now, so you can put me down.”
“Nope. When I start something, I finish it.” His tone is resolute and leaves no room for argument. “But you could open the screen door for me.” Wes nods ahead, taking the steps to the front porch. My hand reaches out for the weathered door. As I open it, the creaks and moans of the springs blend with his footsteps as they clatter along the wooden porch.
“If you drop me, I’m gonna kick your ass,” I say jokingly as he turns sideways, catching the door with his hip.
He laughs at my threat. “I would love to see that.”
“You just wait, I’ll get you when you lea—”
“So, how was the store?” Sandy asks, cutting my sentence off. At the same time, Wes’ eyes and mine fly to his mom. I feel like a kid with her hand caught in the cookie jar, but a soft smile plays on her face when she sees that I’m in her son’s arms.
“Uh… She fell asleep in the truck,” Wes offers in a way of an explanation, his playful tone never wavering.
“Put me down,” I urge, whispering.
“Why?” he asks, dipping his face to mine. I throw a pointed look toward his mom. My eyes widen in a silent plea. With an evil smile, he gives me a slight shake of his head, insinuating that I’m not going anywhere. With a lot of effort, I push away from his chest, clamber to my feet, and break free from his hold.
“I didn’t ask you about why Kenleigh was in your arms. I asked how the store was,” Sandy replies, smirking. Rip off the Band-Aid. She turns back to whatever she was doing in the kitchen before we walked in. “Did y’all get what you needed?”
“I got what I needed, but Kenleigh didn’t. She was being picky.” A teasing grin lights up his face and causes me to throw my head back in laughter.
“Whatever. You saw those hideous things.” I beam back at him still laughing
“Before I forget, Jackie call
ed earlier and said she’d be in this Saturday.” Sandy says. I double over in laughter when Wes’ eyes go as wide as saucers and his face pales.
Oh, how the tables have turned yet again. “What’s wrong, Wes?” I ask, cackling with revenge, revenge that I didn’t have to personally inflict on him. At my question, Sandy stops what she’s doing and turns around.
“Honey, you don’t look so well. Maybe you should go lie down,” she says, taking in his horrified expression.
Slowly, his head turns in my direction. “You think this is funny?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.
“Nope.” I shrug my shoulders and go to head upstairs. “I think it’s cute that she has a crush on you,” I call over my shoulder.
The sound of pounding feet behind me pushes me to fake right toward the stairs only to run left into the living room. I run around the end table tucked tightly next to the dark brown, leather couch, putting it between Wes and me. My chest heaves from exertion. I look at his handsome face as he smiles back at me. I brace my hands on the back of the couch to catch my breath when he says, “I. Will. Catch. You. Kenleigh.” Every single word spoken seems laced with conviction.
“I’m not sure about that Wesley.” I edge my way to the right of the couch, and he matches me step for step.
“You don’t have to be, because I’m positive.” His confidence knows no bounds. I take off in a full sprint, charging right past him. I barely escape the hand that flies out as he tries to catch me.
“Sorry, Mrs. Sandy,” I call out with a squeal when I look back over my shoulder to see Wes hot on my heels. I shove my way through the screen door, haul ass down the steps of the porch, down the pathway, and head toward the barn. I’ve barely made it up the stairs to the loft, when strong arms grab me around my waist from behind. Laughter consumes every fiber of my being. Just as quickly as my feet leave the ground, my back makes contact with a bale of hay.
Serenity Falls Page 7