Page 13 of Shake the Spirit

Oana’s blue eyes glow as she flashes me a smirk. “If you’re seducing me, it’s working.”

Holding out my hand, I wait for her to take it. Oana moves slowly, afraid to feel my hot skin against hers. I noticed how on the hog, she mostly gripped hold of me to avoid falling off. Her touch held no hint of sexual interest.

Right now, her eyes warm when my fingers slide across hers. Oana is a bright star when she lets down her guard. One day, there’ll be no barriers between us.

Once in the elevator, I ask, “Do you like this getup you’re wearing?”

“No. It’s itchy and ugly.”

“Well, I want you to buy clothes that’ll make you feel better. If Walmart doesn’t have anything you like, we can go somewhere else.”

“Do I have to wear skirts?” she asks as we arrive at my motorcycle. “I’ve noticed how the women in your family rarely wear them.”

Rubbing my jaw, I consider her suffocating life. I never suffered from anything even remotely like what she’s endured. My parents were cool with me as long as I wasn’t a jackass. The only time Ma-Journey stepped into my life and took over was when I was too lazy for a haircut. She refused to let my mullet return to the house. Otherwise, I was free to do whatever I wanted.

Oana needs to feel the same freedom. “In the woods, you talked about loving rock and roll music.”

Oana’s face brightens whenever I recall something from that night. Nodding, she mumbles, “I’ve only heard a little.”

“You might also need time to figure out your taste in clothes.”

“Did you pick these clothes?” she asks, and her blue-eyed gaze takes in the sight of my T-shirt and jeans.

“Sure. I mostly just dress like King Peepaw. He always seemed cool when I was growing up. I decided to act like him. No mustache, though. I might try that out when I’m older.”

Oana gives me a shy grin. “I know who King Peepaw is since I’ve seen his mustache. I’ve been watching your family since the night in the woods. I’m not sure about everyone’s names, but I recognized them at the restaurant before I even saw you.”

“So, you know my family is wild. We like whatever we like. If you want to dress like this forever, that’ll be fine. Don’t be anyone but you.”

“Makes sense,” Oana replies as I climb on my hog and help her get settled behind me. “I’ve barely gotten to see the world. I don’t know what it’s like to be anyone besides me.”

“Well, you’re free now,” I say over my shoulder. “And I’m not a guy with a bunch of hang-ups. If you like something or don’t, just spit it out. My ma and sister ruined my ability to get flummoxed by bossy women.”

Oana’s grin again proves that I’m right about her being mine. Many women have great smiles, but none shine as brightly as my dream girl’s.

OANA, AKA KISSING IS AN ADDICTIVE KIND OF SINNING

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