Chapter 5
Chapter Five
RILEY
He said ‘before you take off’.
Oh no.
Oh…
Oh dear.
Did he see me in the grocery store parking lot? Did he catch me staring at him earlier? Has he noticed that I’ve been running from him every time I so much as fall across his shadow?
I don’t know what’s more horrific—that I was avoiding Nathan Campbell in the first place or that he caught me doing it.
Nathan nudges the little boy forward. My attention immediately divests to the child holding the go-cart owner’s ratchet wrench against his chest. The kid is pushing out his bottom lip in petulant rebellion.
“Go on,” Nathan says in a calm voice.
The boy remains quiet. Not that it will stop Nathan. He’s generally easygoing, but he’s got a stubborn streak and if he decides he’s going to do something, well, it’s pretty much done.
“She’s waiting,” Nat prompts after a few seconds of silence.
I notice the tight grip the hockey player has on the little boy’s shoulder. The kid isn’t going anywhere until he completes the mission Nat assigned him.
“I’m sorry,” the little thief grumbles, handing the wrench back to me.
I accept the tool and drop to eye level with him. “These tools aren’t toys. They’re dangerous and could hurt you or other people. You shouldn’t run around with them.”
“Sorry,” he says again, with a little more sincerity this time.
Looking at him, my annoyance chips away.
I’d been a bit curt when he was asking me all those questions earlier.
I was roped into fixing the go-cart after one of the locals recognized me as the new manager of Stewart’s garage.
I didn’t say no to the maintenance request, despite feeling great pressure that I was keeping Rebel and April waiting.
Maybe I took it out… just a teeny-weeny bit, on the kid.
I ruffle the boy’s hair. “If you want to learn more about the tools, ask your mom to bring you down to Stewart Kinsey’s old auto shop after school. I’ll teach you what each of those tools can do.”
The kid’s sullen expression disappears like a bubble bursting in the sun. “Really?”
“Mm-hm. And if you promise to be good to your mom and always do your homework, I’ll even teach you how to help your mom if her car ever breaks down. You’ll be a car-fixing hero.”
The kid nods enthusiastically.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Jay-jay.”
“Alright, Jay-jay. Do we have a deal?”
“Deal!” He grabs my hand and gives it a sweaty shake.
“Go on, Jay-jay,” Nat says. “And remember, a man keeps his word. I’ll ask the pretty lady to tell me if you break your promise later.”
My heart jolts and heat stains my cheeks.
Did Nathan Campbell… just call me a ‘pretty lady’? I didn’t imagine that, did I?
Jay-jay flings a dark look at Nathan. “I’ll keep my promise, mister.”
“You better,” Nathan says.
The little boy runs away, getting absorbed into the crowd of onlookers.
And now it’s just me.
And Nathan.
And about a thousand other locals from Lucky Falls and the nearby-towns but, somehow, no one else registers but him.
I fiddle with the wrench in my hand, trying not to stare.
But it’s difficult.
His face invites admiration and it’s only gotten worse with time. Nathan’s always had a square jaw and green eyes that could stare into a person’s soul like a dredger machine pulling sand from the ocean.
At eighteen, he was a ten on the attractive meter, but now the meter is on the fritz because it lacks the capacity to measure him.
That buzz cut alone is attractive enough to break several meters. He’s just showing off his beautiful, symmetrical head shape at his point.
And his jawline?
Ring, ring.
Hello?
Henry Cavill called and he wants his Superman chin back.
“That was nice of you,” Nathan says and I realize his mouth had been moving this entire time, but I was too busy tracing the differences between his youthful-eighteen-year-old face and his current, manly face.
“Huh—what?” I zone back in.
“To help that kid. That was nice of you,” he says. “Let me guess. You’re some kind of shop teacher at a middle school?”
I blink unsteadily. Are the fumes from the go-carts getting to me or is there a very subtle flirtatious vibe going on here?
“No, I’m not a teacher.” I turn away from him, lift the buckle on the tool box and slip the wrench back in.
“Do you want me to keep guessing?” he asks, smiling as I straighten again. “Active duty?”
I frown.
“Army reserve?”
“Do I look like a solider to you?”
His beautiful green eyes slide over my body and I feel heat sizzle everywhere like tiny, isolated fireworks.
“You give me that vibe. Yeah.”
I can’t make heads or tails of this situation, of this moment. Why is Nathan looking at me like I’m a stranger he’s met in town? Does he not recognize me?
It’s pretty dark, the surroundings lit up only by a few, makeshift lights over the soccer field-turned-go-cart track, but still…
“I’m Nathan,” he says. As if he didn’t used to practically live at my house. As if we didn’t fight over the last toaster strudels at my kitchen table. As if I didn’t poke my eye with an eyeliner for the first time because I was trying to impress him the night of his high school prom.
He takes a step forward, making my heart do a very unwanted pirouette. “And you are…”
Oh.
My.
Gosh.
The boy I was in love with for the entirety of my formative years does not recognize me.
Not only that.
I think he’s attracted to me.
It’s a miracle. A gift from above.
Everything twelve-year old me ever wanted.
Me—all grown up, ready to knock Nat off his feet with my feminine charms. And the boy next door, looking at me, finally, finally really LOOKING at me.
“Uh…” My eyes dart side-to-side.
I want to blurt out who I am, but there’s the pesky issue of Nat being best friends with Chris, who has no idea what’s been happening in my life lately.
And of course, Nat may or may not have read my journal with literary masterpieces like the poem that goes:
When you smile, I feel warm
Even in December
My heart does a weird thing
Like a squirrel in a blender
I physically cringe at the memory of that stanza and Nathan notices because the warm smile kind of freezes on his face.
What do I do? Things will get too complicated once the secret’s out.
I can’t let Nat find out who I am.
Even if he called me pretty.
“I have to…” Before I can announce my departure, the crowd presses forward.
I’d intentionally moved to a less occupied part of the grass to work on the go-cart, but now that the race is almost ending and they’re about to change over to a new players, the spectators have multiplied.
Everyone is pushing forward to see better and the mass of unfamiliar bodies is a giant, impersonal force that propels me straight toward the track.
I feel my legs moving before I decide to and the constant pressure at my back and shoulders does not subside until I’m pretty sure I’m about to be slammed into the guard rails.
Panic overtakes me.
I extend my hand, already bracing for the impact my body will have when the crowd thrusts me against the rails.
Suddenly, a pair of brawny arms snatch my shoulders and pull me back.
“Careful,” Nat’s deep voice rumbles close to my ear.
His wide chest forms a protective barrier around me as onlookers shove and push to get to the front. Teenagers climb on the guard rails, waving their hands to be chosen next as a loud buzzer goes off, signaling the race’s end.
“You okay?” Nat asks, looking down at me. He’s so close that his minty breath sends the two, face-framing tendrils of my hair flying.
My throat closes up, so all I can do is nod.
Nat’s eyes search mine and though I can’t see the darker flecks in his green eyes, I know—from years of trying and failing to paint a proper picture of him in my secret journal—that they’re there.
One corner of his lips tilts up in a half smile. His voice is a deliciously deep baritone when he drawls, “That’s good.”
Have mercy.
His chin dimple is so sexy and it’s winking at me.
The man should be arrested for chin dimple indecency.
“Do I have the honor of getting your name now?” Nat continues. “Or should I just call you pretty lady all night?”
I don’t dare open my mouth or a bunch of horse-like giggles will escape. My heart is beating fast enough to power an entire fleet of go-carts.
The desire to tell Nathan who I am unfurls, fluttering like the roaring green flag that he is. Or was. At least back when I knew him.
Maybe he’s a total jerk now.
But I doubt it since he was willing to run after a child who stole my tools.
He’s so good with kids too.
And so sweet.
And so funny.
I need to get out of here.
Without a word, I push away from Nat and weave through the crowd, running with everything I’m worth.
This is… not the fairytale ending twelve-year old me would have wanted. I’m Cinderella running away from the Prince instead of running to him.
Get a grip, Riley.
Technically, Nat isn’t my prince. He’s just a childhood fantasy. And I’m no Cinderella. These steel-toed workboats on my feet will not be slipping off any time soon.
My eyes are on the edge of the crowd, where I’ll finally be able to break free and gain some speed.
“Before we continue,” a loud voice booms over the speakers, “I’d like to thank the hero of today’s race, the person responsible for little Susie’s remarkable win and a new addition to our beloved Lucky Falls family… Riley!”
I freeze and swing around.
Did he just say my name?
“She’s the manager of Stewart’s old garage. If The Pink Garage can’t fit you in, ya’ll be sure to take your car to Riley’s.”
My chest heaves, but it’s fine.
Nat won’t know that Riley is me. It could be anyone in the crowd.
The owner of the go-carts flings his arm in my direction. Suddenly, a spotlight that was lighting up the track flashes toward me.
Fiddlesticks.
I lift my hand to shield my eyes from the painful light.
“Thank you, Riley!” the man with the mike nods toward me.
I nod back awkwardly.
It’s fine. Riley is a common name. It’s not like he said my last name…
“Everyone, give it up for Riley Carter!” The go-cart owner says and then he starts clapping.
The crowd follows, applauding too.
Everyone is looking at me.
A hundred pairs of eyes.
But only one pair matter.
Even from a distance, I can see Nat’s jaw dropping as his deep green eyes fill with shock.
And horror.