Page 35 of Unlikely You

Lock it up, Honey.

Bren managed to keep her comments to herself as I finished my onion rings and she at the rest of hers.

We each wiped the grease off our fingers and sat there for a minute before Bren grabbed at the trash and escaped me to throw it away.

“Ice cream?” I asked when she got back.

“I really need to get back to work,” she said, and I almost opened my mouth to beg her not to leave yet.

Pathetic. This woman made me absolutely pathetic.

“We agreed, remember?” I managed to get out.

Bren huffed. I’d never met anyone who sighed as much as she did. Or maybe she just sighed around me. I think I would have noticed if she did it with her customers.

“Fine,” she said, as if I was walking her to the gallows and not steering her toward the ice cream shop.

“Wanna share a brownie sundae?” I asked, just to see her reaction.

Her eyes widened and she gave me an “are you fucking serious?” look that made me burst out laughing.

“No? Then all the more for me,” I said, stepping up to the window and ordering a brownie sundae with coffee ice cream, whipped cream, nuts, and extra cherries.

I heard Bren muttering under her breath before she ordered a dish of black raspberry with chocolate sprinkles.

We walked together with our ice cream, even though it was a challenge to eat a brownie sundae and make sure I didn’t trip at the same time. Bren and I strolled to the end of the pier where a man was playing songs on an accordion while people watched and a few danced.

“I can play the accordion,” I told Bren.

She turned and raised her eyebrows.

“I told you my mom can play just about any instrument and that talent didn’t pass down to me, but I did manage to learn the accordion at the least.”

“Why are you telling me this?” she asked, and I stared as she flicked her tongue across her spoon. Eating ice cream wasn’t helping with my raging libido, that was for sure. Bad idea. I should have picked a less sexual dessert. There was too much tongue involved in ice cream. Too much licking. Made my pussy get ideas.

“Because we’re having a conversation. And I thought you might find it interesting.”

Bren scoffed, but I had her number. She was starting to like me, against her will. I’d take it.

“Why would you want to play the accordion?”

I watched a little girl execute a twirl to the music, her skirt flaring around her. She reminded me of Ellie.

“Why not? I thought it was very chic and Parisian when I was younger.” The kids at school had quickly disabused me of the idea that the accordion was cool, but I’d never let that kind of talk bother me. People had always thought my family was strange and our names were odd, so I was used to not fitting in with my peers.

Bren snorted. “I guess.”

An older couple started dancing together and it was so sweet that I sighed.

“I want that,” I said, not realizing for a moment that I’d spoken aloud.

“Mmm,” Bren said, her sound disapproving. Bren went back to focusing on her ice cream and I softly swayed back and forth to the music. If both our hands weren’t busy with ice cream, I would have asked her to dance. She would have said no, but maybe I could have talked her into it.

“How’s your ice cream?” I asked.

“Fine,” she said, but she was scraping her spoon in the bowl to get the last remnants.

“Want a bite of mine?” I asked, loading my spoon up and holding it out to her.

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