I'd bet money on it.
Girls didn't blush over things like that. Most girls didn't give a rat's ass. What type of man wouldn't hold her hand? What type of man wouldn't first at least try to woo the shit out of her?
Wrong wording. One should not woo shit out of anyone, but I digress.
Sighing, we walked hand-in-hand toward the building, and I made myself a promise. One I knew I would most likely regret this time next week.
I was going to actually try. I was going to leave my baggage at the door, check into the happy romance hotel, and make her feel wanted.
And when it was time to leave, I'd do so without looking back. But I'd also do so without any regrets, and that was reason enough to take the leap.
Chapter Thirteen
"How did the senator take to being cursed?"
"He wasn't tickled pink, that much I know. He threw my very expensive fertility necklace into the ocean!"
"Tragic loss," the man said dryly.
"Oh it was!" Grandma pounded her tiny fist onto the metal table. "One can't simply purchase fertility necklaces anywhere!"
"I wouldn't know."
"Well, I would." Grandma sniffed. "After all, I've spent years collecting them, storing them in my grandsons' cars, houses, offices, boats—"
"Ma'am, are you saying you've been this way for… years?"
"What way?"
"Insane."
Grandma smiled. "Some people's definition of insanity is genius. What's your take, Gus?"
"My name's not Gus."
"You look like a Gus. I'm going to go with Gus."
The agent looked longingly back at the glass window. "I think it's time for a break."
Beth
Holding hands with Jace was like riding a school bus for the first time. You were all sixes and sevens with your own body. Not sure who to sit by, not exactly positive you were at the right stop, so you keep looking out the window to make sure you didn't miss your own house. And then when you did per chance miss your stop, you couldn't care less because you'd already made friends with everyone and were really enjoying the ride.
"This is it." He let go of my hand.
The stupid bus stopped.
And now I had the infamous children's song, "The Wheels on the Bus," playing in my head like a broken record.
"I think we just go in." I clenched my hands together and moved to knock when the door was pulled wide open.
"No. Way." Jace swore and then kicked the doorframe.
Grandma pointed at the ground. "I think you killed an ant."
His nostrils flared. But he said nothing.
Grandma clapped. "Oh good. It's still alive, look." She pointed down.