The Feel Good Factor(6)

Arden raises a hand like she’s in church. “Preach, sister. No other kind allowed.”

I take the ball, start at the end of the lane, and let it fly, knocking down five pins. When I turn around, I resume the report. “So today, it was a full-on make-out sesh on the bench in the town square. Which made me think . . . when was the last time you did that? The kind of endless kissing and groping that is only that—endless kissing and groping?”

Arden lowers her blonde head, a guilty-as-charged look strolling across her face. “Last night.”

I roll my eyes as I wait for the ball. “You don’t count. I know you do that all the time with Gabe.” She is ridiculously happy and in love with Gabe Harrison, a local fireman.

“We like making out. What’s the big deal?”

“But it always leads to sex, doesn’t it?” I grab the ball and send it down the lane again, knocking over two more pins, since my bowling game is incredibly, ridiculously average.

Arden scoffs as she grabs a bright-green ball from the return. “Isn’t that sort of the point? We don’t have to make out behind sheds anymore, or stop above the waist. We can go . . . wait for it . . . all the way.”

Vanessa sighs happily. “Sex is seriously one of the best parts of being an adult.” She heads to the ball return. “Or so I’m told. It’s been ages since I’ve done it. The penis still goes into the vagina, right?”

Arden nods, her face serious. “Yes. I can draw you a diagram if it would help. It’s basically insert-this-tab-into-this-slot, and you’re good to go.”

Vanessa taps her temple. “Good to know it all still works the same way it did circa 2017, should the opportunity arise again. But for now, I’ll live vicariously through your Kissing Bandits.”

“Me too,” I say as Vanessa takes her turn. “They were into each other, the kind of into that leads to tabs going into slots. But it turns out they were simply practicing for this kissing contest fundraiser in Whiskey Hollows, in the marathon division, they said. My boss is entering the contest too.”

“Ooh, the chief of police will be competing,” Vanessa quips.

“And he wants our precinct to win. Don’t get me wrong—I love how the wine-country towns have banded together since the fires to raise money for those on the front lines, but I can’t imagine wanting to make out with somebody for that long. Eventually you’ll run out of spit.”

“Or interest.” Vanessa snags her phone and taps the screen. “But there are other categories. My sister and I were talking about it the other night. You can enter the marathon one, you can do sweetest kiss, or even the most passionate kiss category. And attendees bid on who they think will win each category—that’s where the money comes from. If you bid correctly, you win prizes donated by local businesses. But all the money raised goes to first responders.” Her eyes light up as she scans her phone. “Ooh, they have a category for the best reenactment of a movie kiss or book kiss. I’ll have to mention the book kiss to Ella.” Vanessa’s sister is the town librarian.

Arden pumps a fist. “Book kisses for the win.”

I peer over Vanessa’s shoulder at the phone, reading the details. “That’s a good reason to make out, come to think of it.”

Arden gives me a quizzical stare. “Is there someone you want to enter a kissing contest with? Maybe have a kissing marathon with and give that couple a run for their money?”

I scoff. “Like who?”

“Oh, I don’t know. How about that guy Toby you went out with a few weeks ago?” She heads to the end of the lane and sends the ball down the hardwood.

“The hotel clerk? He was nice and all . . .”

“But not enough bad boy in him?” Vanessa teases. My girls know me so well.

I laugh. “Yeah, duh.”

After knocking eight pins, Arden squeezes my shoulder and adopts a serious voice and meets Vanessa’s gaze. “Vanessa, have you met our friend Perri? She only likes bad boys.”

I raise a finger. “Correction. I like the look of bad boys. I don’t mind if they’re actually good underneath the bearded, inked, and smoking hot exterior.”

The guy on the bike has the audacity to invade my thoughts. He keeps doing that.

“Talk about specific.” Arden laughs. “Sounds like you’re describing the hottie you pulled over the other day.”

“Oh, gee. Was I? I hadn’t realized,” I say playfully, since I told them about Mr. Speedy.

“Have you looked him up?” Vanessa asks.

I don’t know a thing about Derek McBride, except that he’s someone who moved to town to help out his sister, or so he said. “No, I’m not going to look him up,” I scoff.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not going to pick up someone I pulled over. And I’m not interested in getting involved with anyone, since I have a promotion to focus on.”

“Fine. But you should still enter the kissing contest,” Vanessa says as Arden finishes her frame.

“Who would I enter it with? Whether I do the marathon, the reenactment, or the most passionate, it doesn’t matter. Jump the recording back ten seconds—I’m not involved with anyone, and I don’t want to be involved right now.”