“I think we did pretty well for our first time,” Duncan said.
“You did great. I, on the other hand—”
Retta froze as she felt the undeniable wetness of a raindrop on her face. She looked up at the sky as dark, bloated clouds rolled in. “It’s going to rain.” She immediately placed her purse over her head and looked around for cover.
Duncan took her hand and quickly led her to a small space between two carnival game stations somewhat covered by a decorative canopy. It was a good thing too, because the moment they settled into the tight space, it started to pour. It was like the rain had a point to make and sidewalks to clean.
They watched as people similarly ran for cover or left the fairgrounds all together. Claire and her husband made a beeline for the exit.
“The busses are gonna be packed,” Duncan said, his rich voice coiling around her.
Whether it was because of the sudden chill in the air or Duncan’s closeness, Retta nipples stiffened. Closing her arms around herself, she willed them to go down.
“You’re cold,” he said, his eyebrows stitched close together.
Her stomach fluttered at the thought of him drawing her flush to his chest and locking her in his embrace. It definitely wouldn’t help her situation.
“No, it’s fine,” she said, giving him a small smile.
Must. Not. Lean. In.
“I saw a restaurant across the street,” she said. “We can wait out the rain there, and the busses won’t be so congested either.”
“Let’s do it,” he said. While holding the bird plushie, he removed his jacket and handed it to her. “For your hair.”
She placed the garment over her head, feeling his body heat emanating from it. “Thank you.”
“You ready?” he asked, holding out his hand.
She nodded, placing her hand into his before they started running.
ChapterEight
They arrivedat the Western-themed restaurant drenched and out of breath.
“I can’t believe we did that,” Retta said between airy laughter.
Duncan turned toward her to make a comment but was winded all over again. Her once flowy blouse clung to her body, molding around her small breasts and revealing her obviously hard nipples.
“Fuck.”
He didn’t realize he’d said the expletive out loud until Retta looked up from where she’d been trying to clear the fog from her glasses.
Duncan quickly held up the poor parrot plushie, traumatized from their journey.
She laughed, returning her glasses to her face. “Nothing a good blow dryer can’t fix.”
A young waiter named Graham approached and didn’t seem concerned with their physical state when he asked, “Together?”
The two of them looked at each other. “Yes.”
It was a benign inquiry, but with their answer, they’d stepped further into the ruse of their relationship.
The waiter led them past oversized booths and a stack of hay bales to the back of the mostly empty restaurant. Once seated, Duncan used napkins on the table to wipe the rain from his skin. Retta’s pressed hair had somewhat survived and she’d taken to hypnotically flapping the neckline of her blouse in a futile attempt to dry it.
“Did he look convinced when we said we were together?” Retta asked after a moment.
“I don’t think he cares enough,” Duncan replied before taking a long drink from the glass of water their server had left for them. “Why? You worried?”
