Page 42 of Cocky Origins: May and Jerald Cocker

“No, I keep this for fancy occasions.”

My eyes widen. “Truly?”

“No.”

I laugh which makes him smile.

There are two plates, a pair of glasses carefully wrapped in a checkered tablecloth, silverware my mother would die for, a loaf of bread, sandwich meat, a block of cheese, and an entire cherry pie. He leaves the tablecloth inside, but places matching napkins next to a milk bottle.

“What’s in there?”

He holds up the yellow liquid. “That’s a shame.”

“What is?”

“Looks like the milk went bad while we were at church.”

I frown at it because that doesn’t seem plausible. I’ve seen curdled milk before and it’s never this color or consistency. Glancing to him I see the smile shining back from striking, green eyes. “Jerald Cocker! What is in that milk bottle?”

He laughs, “Apple juice.”

“You are a handful.”

Smirking to himself as he grabs a glass, Jerald says, “Perhaps I am.”

I tilt my head. “What did you mean by that?”

“By what? Here’s your juice.”

“Thank you.” I take a sip. “Mmm. Just now, when I said you were a handful,you had a look on your face like you were talking about something else.”

“Did I?” He places the cap back on the juice, and balances it against the basket.“What do you plan to do after high school?”

Jerald stretches out, propped on his elbow while he listens to me say,“Perhaps at first I’ll get a job. We could use the extra money, and studying has never really interested me.” His eyebrows lift up his hat. I reach over and pull it free to placeit on my own head. “How do I look?”

“Like the sun found some shade at last.”

The way he said it took my breath. I whisper, “That was an awfully sweet thing to say.”

“I meant it.”

Feeling my heart thumping hard, I glance away from his piercing gaze. “I just might keep it then.”

“It won’t be the only thing I’ve left behind when I leave tomorrow.” My gaze drifts to meet his. “It won’t be the only thing I have left behind with you, when I shove off.”

“What else will you be leaving?”

He taps the center of his chest.

His expression is so serious I don’t know what to do with myself. There’s a heat that’s shown up in places I’ve only begun to think are important. I blink a few times, before my eyelashes drop to the juice. I hadn’t realized how tightly I’m squeezing this glass.

“Am I scaring you, May? I don’t wanna do that.”

What is this throbbing sensation between my legs? Whatever it is, I don’t want it to go away.

“You’re not scaring me. It isn’t that.”

He rises up onto his hand. “It isn’t?”

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