I looked at my mom in shock and then over at Owen, wondering if she witnessed him mauling my mouth. Though, I didn’t regret it for one second.
“Yeah, he’s a gem.”
“Okay. Now you two be on your way. Lunch is in two hours. I gave Ernie a heads-up, so he knows you're coming.”
Before Mom could say anything more, I gripped Owen’s hand and dragged him down the stairs toward his car. I would have offered to drive, but I knew he’d protest.
During the drive, we talked about the harvest and his neighbor. Owen was hoping to get some practice in using the high-school batting cages while he was here. He was just waiting for the go-ahead from his temporary trainer.
We walked hand in hand inside Chuck’s while we looked for pies. The fact that holding his hand felt so right was an observation I was trying my best to ignore.
What was impossible to overlook was that everyone around sprinted in the other direction whenever they spotted us. Not in a silly way, but because people were completely terrified.
“You know, you’d think by now that everyone would’ve forgiven our chaotic behavior from when we were kids.”
Owen laughed as he stacked the six pies against his chest with a single arm, never dropping my hand. “It seems our reputation precedes us.”
“It seems.”
Leaning down, his lips brushed against my ear. “We should give them something to talk about.”
“Are you talking about…,” I started as Owen pulled away and stepped around one of the displays. I peered at him in confusion, then suddenly felt something soft and squishy press against my cheek.
Peeling away from me with laughter, the pies in one hand and a squished cupcake in the other, he ran toward the registers. Grabbing a cupcake of my own, I gave chase. Two families moved out of the way as I bolted after him. I cornered him in the checkout line as Mrs. Henson stood at the register, writing out a check for her groceries.
“Owen Ramsey, you’re going to pay.”
He ducked and veered at my attempts, but I used the conveyor belt as leverage and hoisted myself high enough to smash the chocolatey goodness into the side of his face and hair.
“Oh dear!” Mrs. Hensen exclaimed, and I realized I smashed the cake so hard that bits and pieces flew into the air behind Owen, some landing on Mrs. Henson and the teen working the register.
“I’m so sorry,” I apologized between fits of giggles.
Owen stepped forward, and for a moment I wondered what other tricks he had up his sleeve. He surprised me as his fingers forcefully slid into my hair and yanked my face toward his, crushing his mouth to mine.
“Oh dear,” Mrs. Hensen repeated, but this time her voice was breathy.
I pulled back from Owen and went in search of paper towels to clean ourselves up while he paid for the pies and two cupcakes.
By the time we got back to his car, we looked as good as new, minus the brown streak along Owen’s shoulder from the chocolate. He didn’t seem to care and shrugged when I brought it up.
At Ernie’s, a newer sandwich shop in town, Owen and I were on our best behaviors. While we waited for the staff to finish making the thirty sandwiches Mom called in, we strolled up and down the block. Most of the people we passed waved and smiled. Only a few pulled out their phones to snap a picture. Most just wanted to leave us alone.
As we walked back to the shop, a group of women stood just outside the doors, blocking the entrance. I knew immediately they were hoping for a chance to get to Owen.
His hold on my hand tightened, and I knew he must have noticed them too.
“Owen!”
“Owen Ramsey!”
The group shouted his name over and over as they waved to get his attention.
I tried to slip my hand free, to give him a chance to greet his fans, even the female ones, but he squeezed my fingers, dragging me along with him.
“Good afternoon, ladies.”
Within a second of his greeting, they began asking for pictures and autographs. One even pulled her shirt down to reveal her lacy bra and round breasts.
“Sorry, ladies. I’m at lunch with my girlfriend right now. If you’re looking for an autograph, I’m helping the high school run a conditioning camp over the weekend. I’ll hang around for an hour or so to sign things for the kids.”
Without listening to a single word they spoke, he brushed past them with me in tow and slid us into the sandwich shop. I was thankful the women didn’t follow us inside.
“I didn’t know you were doing a camp this weekend. That sounds fun.”
“Coach Rudicell asked. I remember learning a lot at those camps. You should come. Be my own personal cheerleader.”
Barking out a laugh, I replied, “You and I both know that I was never a cheerleader, nor do I have the hand-eye coordination for baseball. But I am sure you’ll have a great time.”
“I’ll get a bat in your hands one day.”
“Only if I get to chase you with it,” I said and smiled while pursing my lips. Something about Owen brought out a saucier side of me I never knew existed.
“We’re going to the movies tonight, by the way. The theater is showing one of my favorite movies as a kid.”
“Yeah? And what’s that?”
Smiling down at me as the shop worker handed over five bags filled with sandwiches, he replied, “Angels in the Outfield.”