Page 50 of Welker

Moira wasn’t sure what had just happened. “Did you…?”

“Move in for a kiss?” Margaret’s giddy voice interjected from the other side of the room. “I’ll say he did. But… I’m also thinking he can do better than that,” she teased.

Moira blinked, and regarded Welker. “Can you?” she asked throatily. Then appalled at her boldness, she immediately backtracked. “I mean…if you were to actually… What I thought was?—”

“Yes,” Welker cut her off, his unwavering stare holding more heat than she’d ever seen in any man’s eyes before. “I can, and with your permission, I will.”

Moira continued to splutter. “Okay. Uh… But…not here. Not…now. Okay?”

Welker smiled and chuckled. Or was it more of a satisfied purr? “You name the time and place, Moira, and I’ll be there.”

“I—"

“If you kids don’t get moving, you’re going to be late.” Margaret snapped them out of their fascination.

“Right,” Welker agreed, clearing his throat. “You ready to hit the road, Moira?”

“Sure.” One word was all she was capable of at the moment.

Was this a dream? Had the man she’d been secretly desirous of for months, actually laid his mouth on hers?

Now if she could only get her sandaled feet to move.

“Moira?” Welker’s voice penetrated her fog.

“Got it.” She nodded, proud that she’d graduated to a pair of words. “Leaving now.”

Margaret’s tinkling laugh brought Moira further back to reality.

Moira looked back at Margaret and cleared her throat. “Is there…anything you need before we leave?” she asked.

“Not a thing, dear,” Margaret replied enthusiastically. “I’ve had food, companionship…entertainment,” she snickered. “And your beau made sure all the leftovers are in my fridge, so I’ve got plenty to eat for a week. Now you kids go have fun, and know that you’ll have filled my dreams tonight with remembrances of how it felt when Henry and I were starting out.”

A lovely sentiment, but…

“Oh.” Moira pointed between herself and Welker. “This isn’t?—”

Welker reached out and lowered her hand, not letting go once he caught it. “It just might be, Bliss. If you’ll just get rid of the prickly cacti you’ve let grow up around you.”

Moira swallowed convulsively. Hadn’t she been telling herself that exact thing? That she’d isolated herself too much, and if she really wanted to experience…whatever this was with Welker, she was going to have to make some changes?

“I can try,” she finally told him, but her voice—normally strong—shook.

“Of course you can, Moira.” Margaret assured her, rising from her chair to head across the room, shooing them out. “Now. You can’t get the rest of your night started by standing here like a couple of startled dear.”

Lady Guinevere chose that moment to fart, loudly, which succeeded in breaking not only wind, but the tension.

They all laughed until the smell reached them and their eyes started watering, which had them swiftly scooting out into the hallway to escape.

“Uh, have you tried Beano, Margaret?” Welker coughed.

Margaret chortled, seemingly not bothered at all. “Yes. As well as every other enzyme that’s supposed to work wonders. Guinie just eats them and farts even more.”

The smell seemed to be following them no matter how many feet they put between themselves and the malodorous mutt, so they said some quick goodbyes that were accompanied by hugs, and fled out the door.

“Shit. I don’t know how she stands it,” Welker quipped as they walked to his car.

“I don’t think she even notices anymore,” Moira answered, breathing deeply but still feeling a little tongue-tied over that kiss. “Regardless, I’m just glad she has Lady Guinevere for company.”

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