Page 37 of Boston
“What time is church, though? You texted me real early.”
He grinned at her. “It starts at nine, but I go a little early because I get breakfast on the way in from this great bagel shop.”
“Oh, now you’re speaking my language.” She giggled, and Boston sure liked the sound of it. “Here’s my next hard question for you.” They started down the lane together, and Boston captured her hand in his, though she still hadn’t answered him on whether she’d spoken to her mom and sister or not. He suspected she hadn’t, but she didn’t seem overly concerned about being seen in public with him.
“Lay it on me, sister,” he said.
Cora looked down the lane at the horizon and then over to him. “I’m wondering how old you are.”
Boston’s heart did a full stop in his chest. “How old I am?”
“Yeah. I mean, how old do you thinkIam?”
“I don’t know,” Boston said.
“We didn’t go to school together, which means I’m at least four years older than you.”
He looked at her. “Is that a problem?”
“It depends on what number you give me,” she said.
Boston had never wanted to lie about something more than he did in that moment. What number would make her balk at their relationship? Seven, eight, ten?He looked at her again, her smooth skin, her dazzling makeup, and while yes, he’d assumed she was older than him, as she’d spent the lastdecadein Miami, he couldn’t believe she could be a full ten years older than him.
And so what if she is?he thought to himself.
“I’m twenty-three,” he said, practically barking out the words. “And since it’s hard question day and you brought it up, I’m going to ask you how old you are.”
“Fine, but that’s your second question.”
Boston grinned at her. “I’ll put my third one with it. After you tell me how old you are, is the age difference going to besomething that stops us from continuing to get to know one another?”
She came to a stop, released his hand and put hers on her hip. “Fine, but that’s going to prompt my third question, and that is, when are you going to start calling me your girlfriend?”
Boston blinked and let what she’d asked sink into his ears, mind, heart, and soul.
“You first,” he said.
“I’m thirty,” she said. “And no, I don’t think a seven-year difference is going to stop me from wanting to get to know you better.” She scoffed and threw up both hands. “It’s crazy, and everyone’s going to think I’m an idiot. But you know what?” She moved into him and put both hands on his chest, slid them up, and fisted her fingers in his collar. “I don’t care what they think.”
Boston took her into his arms, the desire to kiss her flowing through him like river rapids, strong and violent, almost tossing him to and fro.
“Great,” he said. “Because I don’t care about what other people think either, or that mygirlfriendis seven years older than me.”
CHAPTER
TWELVE
Cora looked at the clothes and equipment she’d laid out on her bed—stretchy exercise pants she could roll up that didn’t take too much room, tank tops, as well as a couple of sleeved exercise shirts made of the dry silk that would wick away sweat and moisture.
She’d packed a sweatshirt, because this was Wyoming and anything could happen in the mountains. The wind blew almost all the time here too, and Cora hadn’t been gone so long to forget that the temperatures fell at night and took time to rise in the morning.
She’d packed enough socks for three days and then doubled it, knowing there was nothing worse than wet feet. She wore a pair of hiking shoes already, and she’d packed a pair of water shoes with a tough rubber sole, just in case.
“A flashlight,” she murmured. “An emergency blanket, my one gallon water bladder.” She’d fill that with her favorite spring water, thank you very much. “Bug spray, sunscreen, miniature first aid kit, sewing kit. And visor.”
She had a plethora of hair ties, a brush, deodorant, tooth brush and paste, and a travel sized roll of dental floss.
Boston had said the cabin had a well but no electricity, and to Cora, that meant a cold shower. She’d packed travel sized bottles of shampoo and conditioner in the off-chance that she wanted to wash her hair, but she’d gotten up early and showered that morning already, and she pulled the two bottles out and swapped them for a bottle of dry shampoo instead. Then she wouldn’t have to freeze her scalp off in front of Boston.
