Chapter 19

Winnie

J ack held my hand as we strode briskly through the aisles of the hardware store. Well, he strode briskly, dragging me along. But his legs are much longer than mine, so to keep up, I was doing the kind of run-walk scampering you do when a car stops to let you walk across the street. He was on a mission.

“Is there a BOGO sale on screws ending in the next sixty seconds or something?” I pant, tugging on his hand. “Slow down. You’re going to detach my arm from its socket.”

“Oh shit,” he said, halting in his tracks. “I’m sorry, Winifred. You know how I get when I’m on a mission.”

“I do,” I said. “I’m assuming whatever your mission is you want to accomplish it with all of my limbs still attached though, so…”

“Definitely want all your limbs still attached,” he said, squeezing my hand and slowing down the pace. “Sorry about that. ”

“It’s okay,” I say. I can feel his excitement, and it’s contagious.

“Aha,” he says, finally.

The sign above our heads reads Outdoor Recreation.

“Are we going to rec- reate outdoors?” I ask, wrapping my free hand around his forearm. There’s something about Jack that makes me want to hold onto him in every way I can. Always has been.

He laughs. “We are.”

“Are we going camping? Because I kind of don’t want the first time we have sex to be in a tent,” I say and feel my face flush.

He stops in his tracks again, giving me serious side-eye. “The first time we do what now?”

I stand up on my tiptoes and whisper, my lips against his ear, “Have s-e-x.”

“Good God,” he says, with a groan. “If you want to see a tent, just check out the front of my pants right now.”

I giggle. “Never change, Jack Hammer. Never change.”

He’s really looking at me now and there’s so much affection in his expression. “You’re blushing.”

“So are you.”

“Well, anyway. You’re being awfully presumptuous about the s-e-x thing,” he says, as he starts walking again. “Because I am not that kind of guy, Winifred.”

I snort. “Ohhhkay, Jackalope. If you say so. ”

He tugs me down a row and I draw in a little breath. Picnic baskets. So many picnic baskets.

“Are we going on a picnic?” I ask, my smile so wide my blushing cheeks ache.

“You missed breakfast, so I thought brunch might be in order,” he nods, while scanning the selection. He keeps flicking his eyes at me, I guess wanting to see if there’s any one in particular I want, but I can’t take my eyes off him.

It’s so natural, so easy, with Jack.

“Is the heart-shaped one too cheesy?” he asks.

“If you were asking one of your brothers, they’d definitely say yes. But I love it.”

Jack pulls the heart-shaped wicker basket down off the shelf and examines the tag attached. At first I think he’s checking for the price– should I offer to pay half? –but then he reads, “A service for two, including hand-blown wine glasses, porcelain plates, stainless steel flatware, cloth napkins and a corkscrew. Sounds like everything we need, except… let’s see…”

A few rows over, we find sleeping bags and blankets.

“Hmm, teddy bears or smiley faces?” Jack muses, eyeing the blankets. “Or should we get both? Yeah, we might want both. One to sit on, one to wrap around us if we get cold.”

I raise an eyebrow. “There are other ways we can warm up if we get cold.”

He winks at me. “On second thought, let’s go with the plaid. I can’t make out with an audience of teddy bears or smiley faces watching me. But we’ll get an extra, just in case. ”

He grabs two of the plaid blankets and sets them on top of the picnic basket. My chest feels like he’s taken a piece of my heart and laid it down on the basket, too, nestling it in the cozy warmth of the blankets.

Okay, that’s kind of a gross image, but I’m not able to think rationally when he’s leading me to the register, carrying the basket and blankets he plans to make out with me on.

We get in line for the register and are deciding whether we should add a bag of M&M’s, a bag of Skittles, or both, when the woman behind the counter suddenly exclaims, “You’re Jack Hammer!”

We both whip our heads in her direction, wearing our automatic, professional smiles. He disentangles his fingers from mine, letting go of my hand.

Okay, well. You’re going to be dating all ten of them. Probably shouldn’t be seen holding hands with any of them in public until you’ve chosen one…

“I used to see you come into this place when you were just a young little guy,” the cashier goes on, beaming. “You probably don’t even remember an old woman like me. And now here you are, all grown-up and so famous. And so handsome, all of you Hammer boys! Isn’t this something!”

She doesn’t seem to notice me at all, or if she does, she doesn’t care enough to even let my presence register.

In fact, she tries to peer around me, frowning as though I’m in her way. “Where’s Cynthia Sinclair?”

Jack’s demeanor shifts, a flicker of embarrassment in his eyes as he glances at me and then answers, “We’re not together anymore. ”

“Oh that’s terrible! She is such a lovely girl. Just such a beautiful girl! And you two made such a gorgeous couple! The babies you would’ve had!”

“Well, we’ve gone our separate ways,” Jack says, his voice terse.

The woman behind the counter doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, she continues to gush about Cynthia.

Then she notices the basket. Not me. The basket.

“A heart shaped basket! You must’ve moved right on then!” Her eyes flick to me. “Oh my soul! You’re Winnie Wainwright. I didn’t recognize you at first.”

I hold my breath, waiting for her to say I look bigger on television, or I look smaller on television, or something to that effect, because it’s happened enough times I can predict it coming.

“So sweet of you to help Jack pick out a picnic basket for his new lady,” she says. Which is somehow worse than commenting on my size. It’s like it doesn’t even occur to her as a possibility I might be that new lady.

Will people feel sorry for Jack if they knew about our deal, knowing he went from someone like Cynthia to someone like me? I’m certainly not a rebound or practice girl, but “girlfriend” doesn’t quite feel right either. Not when I can’t shout our relationship from the rooftops, or dance around the shop singing about it. Not that I would ever actually do that, but still. Keeping it a secret is kind of a bummer.

“I wish I could’ve told her,” Jack says, as soon as we’re in the parking lot. “That you’re my lady.”

And that’s all that matters .

Jack continues to surprise me as he stops at Tino’s Bistro, my favorite restaurant.

“I don’t think they’re open,” I tell him. In the past they didn’t open until lunch, but it’s been so long since I’ve been here. My mouth waters thinking about their homemade croissants.

He flashes me a grin that I feel in my knees. “Be right back.”

He takes the picnic basket inside while I wait in his truck.

When he returns with the basket, the smells of bacon and pastry wafting out are so incredible I nearly moan.

“Damn, I should’ve bought a blindfold,” he says as soon as we’re back on the road.

I laugh. “Oh, so you are that kind of guy.”

“I mean so you won’t be able to see where I’m taking you.”

“I could just close my eyes?” I offer.

“Can I trust you not to peek?”

I think it over. “In this particular circumstance, yes.”

“Alright then. Close’em. No peeking.”

I obey. With my eyes closed and the soothing instrumental piano music Jack has on, I feel sleepiness setting in. I hadn’t realized how tired I was after my late night solo activities and my morning very much not solo activities, but I doze off.

“Final stop,” Jack says, waking me. Without thinking, I open my eyes and spoil the surprise.

We’re at Sienna Park.

“Jack,” I breathe .

“I thought you would’ve guessed when I told you we were doing a picnic,” he said.

“I didn’t.”

He comes around and opens my door for me, which is something he’s always done. I know exactly where we’re going, or I hope I do. But I let him lead the way. It’s a bit of a walk, but he’s holding my hand again so I treasure every step.

“Here we are,” he says finally.

Nestled beneath the shade of a weeping willow, beside a tranquil pond, there’s the perfect grassy spot for a picnic. He sets the basket down.

I remember the spot well despite being away so long. The water reflects the emerald leaves above. It’s secluded, intimate.

It’s the perfect place to lay down our blankets so I can stretch out beside him and kiss him with my entire being which I’d be doing already but I’m getting too choked up. Good thing he stands a few steps behind me now, because if I was to look in his eyes right this second, I’d burst into tears. I have actual chills and it’s not because I’m cold.

“Do you remember when we came here to celebrate your birthday?” As he asks the question, he closes the space between us to gather me back up against his chest, his hands resting on my waist.

Of course I remember. How can I forget? It was the location of the first birthday party that had ever been thrown for me. Jack had planned it all. He was determined to make my birthday party fit for a fairy princess. Princess Winifred. The party started after the sun had gone down, and we knew Gram would be asleep. It was one of the many times Dad was in jail so it was easy to sneak away after Gram had gone to bed. Jack had ringed the clearing with fairy lights, draping them around the tree. The boys had bought me a cake covered in pink roses and presents, small ones Gram wouldn’t notice and question or try to sell like sparkly butterfly hair clips. The Hammer boys were always giving me tiny treasures like that.

“I would never be able to forget this place,’’ I say, and my voice is thick. “I would never want to.” I turn in his arms to link my hands behind his neck, on my tiptoes to reach his lips better. “I love it here, Jackrabbit.”

The nickname makes him grin and the gleam in his eye is suddenly heating me quicker than his embrace. “That’s a new one. Jackrabbit is kind of cute, though. You don’t mean Jackson? Or Jackass?”

I pull his face closer to mine. “I definitely don’t mean Jackass,” I say. I brush my lips against his which instantly part. The kiss is gentle, hesitant at first. The tips of our tongues teasing, our mouths pushing forward, then pulling away in a slow sensual dance that’s like falling into a dream. It’s almost impossible to kiss and smile at the same time, but my face wants to do both. Meanwhile, his hands are all over me, and mine all over him.

“You seem to really like my butt,” I say when we pause for a moment to stare into each other’s eyes. His big hands are still splayed across it, his fingers bending and flexing like he wants to dig them into the flesh…

“I have been a longtime admirer of your ass,” he murmurs, dropping a kiss on my forehead. “Do you want to eat?”

“Yeah,” I say. “As long as we can make out some more after.”

“I think that can be arranged, Winifred.”