CURMUDGEON (2018 Watty Wildcard Winner)

Chapter Six - Finn

"So, what do you want to do first?" Sara asked. She walked with a peculiar bounciness that was difficult to keep up with, despite the fact that his legs were nearly twice the length of hers.

Finn held his hands out. "I thought this was your show."

"You said you know how to have fun." She stuck a pouty lip out at him and that urge to take it between his teeth came to him again.

"Well, I was having fun at Joe's." He paused to let a horse-drawn stagecoach rumble through the intersection before crossing the street and stepping up onto the boardwalk that ran the length of the historic district or, as he thought of it, tourist hell.

"That wasn't fun. That was self-pity."

"I have fun pitying myself."

She turned abruptly and dashed into a store that sold Victorian era costumes. A floor-length purple dress with an elaborate bustle hung on a display just inside the door. Holding it in front of her she gushed, "Oh my goodness! Look how pretty this is. We should dress up like Wyatt Earp and Big Nose Kate."

"Adults shouldn't play dress up."

"I adore role playing. I live for it! Being an adult is terribly overrated."

He slid his hands into his pockets and grinned at her. "Big Nose Kate was a whore who spent time with Doc Holiday and there's not a chance in Hell I'm dressing like Wyatt Earp. Besides, they'd have to cut half that skirt off to make it the right length for your tiny little legs."

The hanger made a loud click when she dropped it back over the bar. "I'm insulted. I'm not that short."

"Nah. Not short. Just fun sized."

Her smile lit her whole face. "You made a joke, Finn!"

"I told you I'm a fun guy."

"Uh huh." She rolled her eyes at him. "Come on then, party pooper. This isn't the right place for us if you're not gonna play dress up with me."

"Definitely not the right place for us." He let her lead him back onto the boardwalk. The evening was still quiet, the streets not yet busy with the tourists that would show up in time for a night of dinner and dancing. A warm breeze carried the scent of the little rosewood blocks sold in the gift stores and, somewhere beneath that, was the crisp alkaline smell of the desert. Finn inhaled deeply, letting the fresh air fill his smoke-tortured lungs. How long had it been since he'd taken a walk?

"The rock store?" She asked.

"Boring. What do you do with rocks?"

"Candy?"

"Surely not," he scowled at the thought of the sticky, overly sweet confections.

She stood on tiptoe to kiss the cheek of a cigar-store Indian and then pointed at the door of the shop. "Fine tobacco products?"

He cocked his head to one side. "I might find something worth wasting money on in there."

Grinning, she bounced through the door into the dimly lit, richly fragrant store. A man behind the counter with a silk top hat and a beard down to his chest nodded in their direction. "Evenin'."

"Good evening!" Sara answered.

Finn walked the perimeter of the store. "Fine tobacco is a lost pleasure." He opened a glass jar and inhaled, wishing for the sense of smell he had before twenty years of smoking. Ironic, really.

"Do tell," she said.

"Commercial cigarettes--the pre-rolled things you buy at the gas station--they're full of garbage. This stuff in here, this is the real deal. It's fragrant and flavorful and won't kill you nearly as quickly."

"But it will still kill you."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Everybody's gotta go sometime."

"How do you want to go, Finn?" She closed the distance between them and pressed her palms against his chest.

His body responded to her touch like he was fifteen and in the backseat of a car for the first time. He swallowed hard.

"This isn't really how you have fun, is it? I can think of a thousand things we could be doing that would be better than hanging out in the tourist district."

He swallowed again and sent up a silent prayer that his voice wouldn't crack like an adolescent boy's. "Are you some kind of author stalker?"

"Does it matter?"

"Are you married?"

The corner of her mouth twitched upward. "No, Finn. I'm not married. I'm over eighteen, and all I want in the whole wide world is to see you give in to your desire. I want you to be wild and free, to embrace life the way you did before you started worrying about deadlines and film options and all the rest." Her hands slid upward around the back of his neck and into his hair. "Tell me what your desire is."

"You terrify me a little."

"It's part of the allure."

"You two buyin' something?" The man behind the counter asked.

Finn stepped away from her and smiled at the man. "Yeah. Give me four of the cigars on the counter there." He paid for his purchase and stepped back out into the bright morning sun. It was like moving into a different world. "I think I should eat something," he muttered, wondering if he would have had his arms around a strange woman if not for the beer.

She slipped her hand into his. "Perfect. Burgers at Vogan's?"

He shuddered at the thought. "You have to take two steps down to get into Vogan's. One to step down off the boardwalk and one step down in status."

She giggled. "You don't seem like a guy who cares about status."

"I'm a guy who cares about not getting food poisoning."

"Taco wagon?"

He studied her enormous blue eyes for a long moment. The wind tossed her dark curls around her face. Her full lips were curved in a hint of a smile. He slid his free hand into her hair and pulled her close enough to bend down and kiss her. Her body molded against his. Her lips tasted like cherry chapstick. Before he could get hers, she caught his lower lip in her teeth and he struggled to stifle a moan.

"We could eat at your place," she whispered into his ear.

He stepped back. "The taco wagon will be fine."

She bit her lip. "I will get you to have fun," she said.

"I believe you." Why did the thought of having the kind of fun he was thinking of with this beautiful woman send a tingle of fear down his spine?