Page 77 of Wish I Might
“And buy me lunch and a souvenir.”
“Okay, now you’re getting a little greedy.”
He folded his arms over his chest.“Those are my terms.Take it or leave it.”
She wanted to pretend to think it over, but she was too happy.“Fine.Lunch—at a place of my choosing—and a souvenir of your choosing.”
He thrust out a hand.“Deal.”
“Deal.”She shook his hand solemnly, then let the grin loose.“I’m going to go get the sunscreen.Cedar Point, here we come!”
“God help me,” he said fervently, but when she dashed past him to run upstairs, she saw his smile.
Chapter Eleven
Bailey stepped inside the gates of Cedar Point, a bounce in her step.“I want to go on Gemini first.”
He fell in step beside her.“You always want to go on Gemini first.”
“It’s my favorite.”
“I know.You made me go on it with you the first time we came here.”
“Aw, you remembered.That’s so sweet.”
“A guy doesn’t forget the first time he projectile vomits on thirty strangers.”
She snorted out a laugh and snagged his hand to give it a swing.“You can just watch this time.”
“Thank you so much.You liked the museum.”
She glanced up at him as they made their way down the fairway.He’d slid on a pair of sunglasses in the car, mirrored lenses that reflected her own face back at her.“I said I did.”
“No, I mean you really liked it.You didn’t go to the gift shop until the end.”
“To buy your souvenir,” she reminded him.“Which is adorable, by the way.”
“Forget it, it’s mine.”
“I bought it,” she corrected.
“For me, because that was the deal.”He looked down at her.“You could’ve bought yourself one.”
“I was going to, but you got the last one.”She aimed a pout.“What are you going to do with it?”
“It’s a Christmas ornament.I’m going to put it on my Christmas tree.”He tugged her hand to pull her out of the path of a mass of giggling, chattering teenagers.“Why, what were you going to do with it?”
“Hang it from my rear-view mirror.”
He laughed.
“It’s too pretty to only put up at Christmas.”They skirted around a mom trying to soothe a crying toddler.Bailey imagined the ice cream cone currently melting on the ground at the toddler’s feet was the cause of the distress.“How about you let me hang it from my mirror until December, then you can have it for the tree.”
“Get your own,” he repeated.
“Friends share, Nash,” she pointed out.
“Blah, blah, blah.”He drew to a halt and looked up at the twin curls of steel track above them that was the Gemini.“We’re here.”
