Page 56 of Her Pretty Words

We walk around the festival until Grayson suddenly freezes. I follow his line of sight to a booth selling stuffed animals. It’s as though he has tunnel vision, not hearing me when I ask, “What is it?” He tensely walks over to the booth, picking up a blue stuffed dolphin and staring at it solemnly.

“Shopping for a kid at home?” the chipper old man behind the table asks.

“No,” Grayson says in a dry voice, which causes the worker to wince at his rudeness. I want to remedy the situation, but before I can make it to them and say something polite, Grayson pulls out his wallet and tosses a fifty-dollar bill on the table.

He walks toward me, as though he doesn’t care about getting his change back. He puts the stuffy in my hand. “For you,” he says in a faraway voice, like he’s in a trance.What’s gotten into him?

“Um, thank you.”

We continue to roam the fair in silence. I glance at Grayson several times, who is even more impossible to read in this moment. There’s an angry gray cloud in the sky and most people have left by now since they don’t want to get caught in Florida’s unpredictable weather.

I spot a face painting booth and luckily there’s no line, so I tuck away my mischievous grin as I walk up. Grayson mindlessly follows me, and I can only hope that my plan rids him of this grim mood.

I spot the wall of designs and find the perfect one. Grayson eyes me but doesn’t say anything. I shove him into the chair and tell the artist which design I want her to paint on his face.

Grayson narrows his gaze at me. His gaze runs down my body and then focuses on my feet. I go up and down on the tips of my toes in excitement. He sighs and lets the lady get to work.

I can’t help but laugh as it comes together, and when the artist hands him a mirror, he rolls his eyes at his own reflection. She painted a black circle around his right eye, a black nose, dots on his cheeks, and a red tongue hanging out of his mouth. I chose a dog since it’s his favorite animal. He doesn’t seem to appreciate the sentiment.

When he stands up, I can’t fight the hysterical laughter that leaves me. It’s a hilarious sight to see such a tall, chiseled man with child’s face paint. His eyes soften and the grouchy mood he was in finally dissipates. I pay and then Grayson says in a dry voice, “I think it’s time to go.”

I laugh and take a picture of him, right as I feel a sprinkle of rain hit my shoulder.

“Okay, now it’s really time to go,” he says.

I follow him toward the parking lot but then tug on his hand. “I’ll meet you at the car, I’m going to run to one of the porta potties,” I lie, shove the stuffed dolphin into his hands, thentake off into a sprint since the sprinkles are turning into a full-on storm. When I glance back, he is rubbing his face clean with the help of the rain. I can’t even be upset because the photo I captured is priceless.

I try to remember exactly where I need to go, backtracking my steps, until I finally spot the woman in the purple shirt, who is in a hurry packing. “Did Daisy get adopted?” I ask with water starting to drip down my face.

Kneeling as she puts things in a duffle bag, her eyes meet mine and she gives me a gentle smile. “Sadly, not yet. One of the volunteers brought her to my car while I packed up. Didn’t want her to get all wet.”

“Can I take your phone number?” I ask. “I’m not promising anything, and if another family wants to adopt her don’t wait on me, but I’d like to think on it and maybe give you a call soon.”

She digs through her bag until she finds what she was looking for. She stands and hands me a card with her contact information. “Thank you!” She gives me a quick nod before getting back to work.

It’s in this very moment, as I’m sprinting to the parking lot, I realize how much my stamina has improved since running every morning. If I made this exact attempt a month ago, I’d be on the brink of death by now. My feet sink into the soggy grass with each step, making a sloshing sound. My attempt to open the passenger door is futile since Grayson doesn’t make a move to unlock it.

I pound at the window, my clothes sopping wet and hair sticking to my cheeks.So much for curling it.His muffled laughter makes my chattering teeth grind.

“This isn’t funny!” I pull again, and this time, the door swings wide open and I don’t waste time climbing in. I point a threatening finger into his chest. “You?—”

“Motherfucking cockbucket?” he surmises.

I grin and lean over the center console, bringing my lips within an inch of his. His demeanor instantly changes to something primal. And then, with his focus on my lips, I ring my hair out onto his lap, and he hisses the moment the water soaks his crotch.

“You’re evil,” he says with his eyebrows raised.

I lean back into my seat and cross my legs with a pleased shrug.

He blasts the heat and the only sound while we drive is my teeth chattering and the windshield wiper at full speed. Ten minutes in, Grayson is completely dry since he made it to the car before it poured. However, my long hair drips down my back, and the denim of my jeans certainly won’t dry any time soon.

“You don’t need a GPS?” I ask when he gets on the highway.

“My job is in the area. I usually do everything from home unless I have a meeting or something.”

“What made you want to live in Sanibel?” I ask. It’s a small island with expensive houses. Most people want to visit the island for a weekend and then leave. And the ones that do buy a place usually use it as a vacation house.

“I wanted to be close to the office. It’s only a thirty-minute drive, sometimes forty-five depending on traffic.” He shrugs. “I didn’t want to live in the city, so Sanibel it was.”

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