All In Good Time - A Time Travel Beatles Fanfiction

Track 22 - We'd Like to Take You Home with Us

On the other side of the counter, not three feet away, stood twenty-one year old Paul McCartney, looking at Lainey with those huge honey-colored eyes she loved, speaking to her with that deep Scouse voice she loved. "Bet you're surprised to see me here."

She clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. No. It couldn't be. "Who...who are you?" she stammered, her eyes welling with tears. Impossible. She must be losing her mind.

"Baby. You know who I am."

"No. Not possible." She rubbed at her eyes, at the tears spilling over.

Then Paul was on her side of the counter, pulling her into his arms, whispering something soothing next to her ear. That smell, woodsy aftershave and a hint of tobacco. It was him. For a long moment she did nothing but breathe him in, her damp face tucked into his neck.

"How?" she finally managed to say.

He pulled away and held up his right hand. The gold scarab ring glittered on his pinky finger.

"But I saw you throw it in the river!"

He slowly shook his head, the fluorescent overhead lights accenting that dark shiny hair she loved. "You saw me throw a bottle cap into the river. The ring was tucked safely in my pocket all along."

Lainey stared at him, stunned. He'd tricked her. The bastard. All of the grief she'd gone through for the last two months, all of the tears, when she was certain she'd never see him again, and he had the ring all along? She shook her head, trying to take it in. Paul McCartney, her age, here, in her father's record store. He slid his hands down her sides. Then he had the audacity to smile at her.

She took two steps back. His arms fell away. "I'm going to kick your ass!" she practically yelled.

A middle-aged woman in a peasant top and jeans glanced up from a rack of Bob Marley and Rolling Stones T-shirts.

Paul cocked a perfect dark eyebrow at Lainey. "All five-feet-four inches of you? I'm scared."

Lainey pulled at her hair with both hands. Her heart thundered. She wanted to unleash all her pent up fury and longing on the smug man boy in front of her. She squeezed her eyes closed, then slowly opened them to find Paul McCartney still standing in front of her. Against all odds, she managed to lower her voice. "You...you asshole," she hissed.

His beautiful lips thinned in a straight line. The smirk disappeared. "All right, Lainey, I probably deserve that. Just let me explain."

Lainey's head was spinning. The cocky bastard had tricked her, stolen her ring, and appeared suddenly in 2012, probably planning to charm her into submission with his magic voice. She wanted to slap him silly. Then she wanted to bury her face against his neck again and just feel his arms around her, holding her.

She could hear her father whistling "Carolina in My Mind" from the front of the store. Her father! How was she supposed to explain a very young Paul McCartney materializing out of thin air next to the espresso machine to her father?

Lainey jerked at the ties of her apron and slung it on the counter. She aimed her hip at the cash drawer, slamming it closed. "Go back into the past where you belong," she said, pointing a shaking finger at Paul.

"You don't mean that, babe. You're just startled, that's all."

"Startled? I'm startled?" Her voice sounded hysterical. The older woman with the long braid was openly staring now. Lainey snatched her backpack from the counter and stormed into the back room, with Paul on her heels.

Out of view of their one customer, and hopefully out of earshot, Lainey dropped the backpack on the edge of her father's cluttered desk and unhooked the flap. Thank god, there was her sketchpad. At least Paul had been thoughtful enough to return her things.