Page 43 of Beaches, Bagels & Babes
Daisy only died a little of embarrassment as she showed off her most recent artistic creations. She tried to make one thing a day, finding inspiration in whatever she could. Caricatures of boardwalk passersby… sculptures with the washed-up treasures she found on her beach walks…
Lately, though, her main source of inspiration was playing hard to get.
Candace ate her ice cream one small, savoring lick at a time. Similarly, Daisy was in no rush. They both wanted more. More deliciousness. More time together. More—
“Can I try some of yours?”
“Sure.” Daisy scooped up a bite. Instead of handing over the spoon, she poised it next to Candace’s mouth. “Open wide.”
The other woman did as she was told, looking annoyed and eager at the same time.
Daisy loved the feeling of control she had dipping the utensil into Candace’s mouth, the way her lips caught and bounced as the spoon pulled back out; the satisfied sound she made, her eyelids fluttering with contentment.
“Mmm… That’s tasty.”
“Yeah,” Daisy agreed in a puff of breath. “My turn.”
Dropping her spoon, Daisy took hold of the hand Candace used to steady her cone.
She stole both towards her mouth. From the edge of the cone to the curled, soft-serve tip, she drove a deep divot into the cream with her tongue.
She slurped up her spoils at the top, locked with Candace’s gaze the whole time.
It was more than she intended to take, but Candace did not seem to mind. She looked at Daisy with the same kind of hunger.
“Yours might win,” Daisy admitted as she released her grip and thumbed a drip from her chin.
“I thought you weren’t a fan of sweets.”
“I never said that. To be honest, I have a real bad sweet tooth. I thought they weren’t good for me, so I tried to stay away. But I’m through with that.”
Flushing, Candace looked down at her feet dangling over the fresh, fragrant cedar wood mulch.
“You should listen to your instincts. Everyone knows sugar is bad.”
It was her Candy voice, airy and filled with disaffected humor. Meant to brush off the emotions building so steadily between them. Yet, Daisy knew Candy was not Candace. The persona was as much an act as it was an armor.
So , Daisy thought as realization dawned on her. That’s what it is.
Candace was afraid of hurting Daisy again. The hesitance, the distance, was not because she wanted it, but because she thought it was for the best.
Daisy would have to prove to her it wasn’t.
Thrusting off the swing, Daisy downed the rest of her ice cream and tossed the cup in a nearby trash can. Under the buzzing streetlamp, she faced Candace with her arms crossed.
“Screw everyone else. I know what I want. Winner buys.”
Those big, bright eyes blinked with confusion. “... Winner?”
Daisy grinned. In a challenging tilt, she ticked her head towards the mini golf stand. “You don’t think I can handle my sugar? Seems to me, the only way to settle this is with a game. Pick your putter and get ready to lose.”
Candace hesitated. In a slow stream, what was left of her ice cream began to drip from her cone. Cursing, she devoured the whole thing in monstrous, gaping bites.
“Fine. But wipe that smirk off your face. You’re going down.”
“Really? Don’t tempt me with a good time. ”
As it turned out, Candace was telling the truth.
She was a mini golf pro once she shook the rust off after the first couple of holes.
Daisy, not so much. By the time they reached the trickshot windmill at the midway point, things were looking dire.
Daisy wildly misjudged her swings, over or underpowering each hit.
Granted, the last time Daisy went mini golfing, she was the same age as the young, cranky kids being shuffled away from their final fun activity of the night.
Even so, she thought she would be able to hold her own.
The counterperson yelled at her, “It’s putt-put, not the PGA!”
Daisy and Candace both broke into laughter, which made aiming even more difficult. Win or lose, Daisy did not care. Candace’s joy, seeing her at ease, was the best prize. They came to the last hole and started a whole new game with a declaration of “best two out of three.”
It was late by the time they finished their victory ice creams. Daisy and Candace were left alone while the place closed up for the evening, with the sound of cicadas chattering in the wooded backdrop.
It would have been the perfect moment to “woman-up” as Norman advised and make her move.
Yet, she decided to wait. Planning was Candace’s forte, but Daisy wanted to do this right.
As they walked back to the Comfort Clam, Daisy noticed that Candace seemed nervous. She unlocked the door with a hitched breath and stood there, blocking them both from entering.
Daisy said, “What’s the prob–”
Oh.
A smirk curled Daisy’s lips. It was hard to keep things PG when there was only one bed.
She sauntered forward, ducking around Candace, and flopped down like she owned the place.
Ancient mattress springs protested every movement.
She could only imagine what it would sound like if they actually put the bed to work.
As it was, she patted the place beside her.
“Unless you’re gonna sleep there, that is.”
Without turning on the lights, Candace latched the door and made her way to the bed. Ambient motel fluorescents broke through the curtain panels and, turning her into a fidgeting silhouette. She offered, “Um, I have pajamas you can borrow, or—”
Stripping down to her bralette and bottom briefs, Daisy asked, “How’s this? Nude sleeping is the way to go, but I can keep some propriety for your delicate sensibilities.”
“... It’s fine…”
Candace was either too distracted to change or did not bother.
She settled in under the covers beside Daisy, as far away as she could manage on a bed that was just barely meant for two people.
While Daisy was propped up on her side, watching the woman, Candace lay stiff as a board facing the ceiling.
She was so awkward and nervous, it was beyond adorable.
Daisy made conversation, hoping to ease the tension.
“You know, I haven’t slept off-island since I was a kid.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. My parents used to close the cafe during the winter months. We took a lot of road trips, visiting all sorts of places. My dad was a history buff and my mom loooved art museums, so picture a bored kid getting dragged around a battlefield reenactment. I’m grateful, though.”
In the low light, Candace’s expression was impossible to read. Likewise, the emotion in her strained voice was complex. “They were good people. They didn’t deserve what happened to them.”
“Most people don’t deserve the shit life throws at them. That’s how it is. It just makes savoring the good things important. At least, I’m starting to believe that.”
“You’re right,” Candace agreed with a sigh. Fabric rustled as she looked towards Daisy. “Are you okay? Will you be able to sleep?”
Around a not-entirely-feigned yawn, Daisy assured her. “I think I can manage. The weirdest part is how not-weird it feels. But maybe it’s present company.”
“What do you mean? ”
“I guess I feel safe with you. Thanks for picking up earlier. I wasn’t sure you would, but I’m glad you did. I hope it doesn’t get you in any trouble.”
“I’ll smooth things over,” Candace said. And yet, there was hesitation in her tone. She went on slowly, as if each word was a considerable choice. “Daisy… the meeting I was in earlier… I saw…”
“What? Did you see something that’ll finally shut that ass-hat up?”
“I—”
Springs screeched in protest as Candace thrust onto her side, towards the wall. She finished, “I saw something to look into. I’m going to figure this out, I promise. Goodnight.”
“Thanks, Candace. G’night.”
Daisy was not sure what else to say, or why something that should be good news filled her with unease. Maybe because she cared less about taking down Peter Perry, less about Bagel Bombs!, than preserving this peace with the woman she wanted to be with. How could she make Candace understand?
The warmth that radiated from her, the sheets that were tinged with her sweet scent, threatened to lull Daisy into a deep slumber. She stayed up as long as she could, piecing together their first real date.
Candace Perry was a princess, and princesses deserved perfection.