As he watched Lou devour her cream puff, Al’s stomach still roiled, but now for different reasons. Today, he would tell Lou about his job. He wanted to ask her on an official date but needed to reveal his secret identity first. He wanted her to know everything about him and A. W. Wodyski.
• • • • •
Lou slid into the chair next to Al, so they sat side by side. She handed Al an already-sweating beer bottle and set the cheesy potatoes between them. She smiled a little at his appearance, his hair out of place and damp around the edges. He wore jeans (thank God he hadn’t worn khakis). His light-colored polo showed evidence of butter gone amiss while he was eating corn on the cob.
As favorite annual events go, State Fair topped her list. She always came early for breakfast and to beat the worst of the crowds. Now it was early afternoon and people poured in. The barns crawled with strollers, crying and sticky children, and tired-looking parents. And the people watching didn’t get better.
Al sampled their potato spirals, leaving a smudge of cheese on the corner of his mouth. Lou smiled and picked up a napkin.
“Hold still—the cheese is fighting back.”
Using her napkin-wrapped thumb, she brushed the cheese away, briskly at first, then slower as she became distracted. His lips were wet from the beer and full from the heat. Using her bare fingers, she grazed his bottom lip. Al’s blue eyes ignited. The beer tent and exhausted families disappeared. She only saw him, felt his shallow breath caress her fingertips, shooting desire through her. Every part of her was hot and electric and hungry.
Lou leaned toward him, seeing her hand tremble against his mouth. She licked her lips and saw her hunger reflected in Al’s eyes. This was happening. The world seemed to shudder.
“Mommy, why is that lady touching his face?”
A high-pitched voice broke the spell like a snowball to the face. Lou and Al both turned to see a sweaty mom and chocolate-smeared boy sitting across the table from them. A large diaper bag now dominated the table—that explained the shudder. The mom glared at Al and Lou as if they had interrupted her. Lou glared back.
“She is wiping something off his face, Hunter, like Mommy wipes your face.”
“Why can’t he wipe his own? He’s a big boy.”
Al and Lou laughed.
“You’re right,” said Lou to Hunter. “He is a big boy. But sometimes big boys need help. Like you need help to get all that chocolate off your face.” She pushed a stack of napkins across the table and smiled at Hunter’s mom, who snatched the napkins and set to work.
Lou gave a small smile to Al. He wiped his damp palm on his pant leg and pulled a folded newspaper article from his jeans pocket. He carefully unfolded it, flattened it a little on the sticky picnic table, and passed it to Lou.
“I thought you’d like to read this,” he said.
She took the article and looked down to give it her proper attention. The article wasn’t long, maybe a column and a half, with a long crease down the middle. But after reading the headline and byline, Lou almost blacked out. She clenched her teeth, dug her nails into fleshy palms, and flared her nostrils to take in the deep breaths she needed. She’d thought she had come to terms with the events of the past four months. She accepted that closing the restaurant made business sense, but seeing the name A. W. Wodyski in print ripped open all the old wounds that had barely healed over. She felt raw, exposed, and cold despite the warm day.
“Why are you giving this to me?” she hissed.
Al looked a little stunned. “I thought you’d like to read it . . . er . . . It’s a good review on The Good Land. We had such a lovely meal there. And Chef Tom is your friend.” Al widened his eyes at Lou’s vehemence.
Lou noticed Al’s discomfort and struggled to rein her rampaging emotions back in. Hunter and his mom were watching her, too. She took a deep breath and focused on the gesture.
“You’re right—we had a wonderful time there, but I prefer to make my own opinions about restaurants rather than listen to some overeducated pompous ass.” Hunter’s mom flinched at the profanity. “Thank you for thinking of me. I shouldn’t have blown a gasket like that.” Lou crumpled the paper in one hand and shoved it deep into her favorite red purse.
Al’s eyebrows scrunched. “Blown a gasket? I’m not sure I get that one.”
Lou laughed and the anger subsided. “I’m sorry. It means I got angry, but not at you. You don’t have anything to do with it. It’s all work related and this article reminded me of it. It’s not fair you had to take the brunt of it, especially since our outings have been the ideal escape from my stress. Ready for another beer before we leave?”
Al nodded slowly, his brow still furrowed, and Lou stood to get another beer.
She felt a little guilty for scaring him with her reaction. Too bad she had to work later today; she didn’t want today to end. Perhaps she should invite Al to Luella’s—then it could continue.
But she cherished their time as a work-free zone. If he knew the wreck her life really was, he’d want nothing to do with her. She didn’t want anything to do with herself. And they had been so close to kissing—if it hadn’t been for little Hunter. It wasn’t all in her head. He seemed to share her feelings. She had wanted to kiss him. She still wanted to kiss him.
• • • • •
“When you asked me to pick you up for work, I thought you’d be ready,” said Sue as she followed Lou into her kitchen. Lou saw the flashing green light and pushed Delete.
“Sorry, I got back later than expected,” Lou said. She smiled a toothy, sheepish grin at Sue’s stern face. She set her red purse on her bed, added the green metal water bottle with her bank’s logo on the side, and a stack of fresh bandannas. As she crammed the items into her bag, she felt resistance and heard a crunch of paper. Crap, she’d have to clean that out later.
“Hey, it’s not me who Harley will complain about,” Sue said.
“No, of course. You don’t do anything wrong in Harley’s eyes.”
Sue’s eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”
Lou finished zippering the purse and lifted the strap over her head. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. What do you mean by that?”
“Everyone knows you and Harley . . . like each other.”
“Well, of course we do. So what if we like each other. I like you; what’s the deal?”
“I mean ‘like’ like. You both make googly eyes at each other’s backs when you think no one’s looking. It’s really cute.”
“We do not.” Sue walked out of the apartment, past Lou.
“If you say so . . .” Lou shrugged her shoulders and headed down the stairs. Sue smiled.
“He makes googly eyes?”
“Just like you do.”
Sue absorbed that information, a quiet smile on her lips, then returned her laser eyes to Lou.
“So, what prompted the lateness?”
Lou pursed her lips, then sighed.
“Gah! I don’t know. I’m not good at this. I think he wants to kiss me. I know I want to kiss him, but something always interrupts and ruins the moment. Today, it was a chocolate-smeared little kid whose mom acted like we were making out on the beer tent table.”
As they stepped onto the street in front of Lou’s apartment, Sue nudged her shoulder.
“Just grab him and get it over with.”
Lou rolled her eyes.
“Do you not know me at all? I am not the instigator in anything.”
“Sweetie, that needs to change if you’re ever going to get what you want.”
• • • • •
“Do you think she’s crazy?” John asked as he spun around in his office chair to face Al’s desk.