Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
NATHAN
She doesn’t yelp or screech when I step into her garage, which I find peculiar. The younger Riley screamed her head off if so much as an owl hooted outside the window.
But this Riley—
The Riley I confused for a woman I might like to get to know—
She doesn’t scream.
The only hint that she’s surprised lives in the way her eyes widen slightly and her fingers coil into fists as if she’ll swing first and ask questions later.
“Nathan.” She says my name breathlessly, like I’m a ghost she’s afraid to startle.
Her fists remain in their punch-first state.
I guess I earned that.
“Hey.” I approach her. She’s wearing a navy jumper unzipped at the front to reveal a tight blue tank top, similar to the one she wore at the fair.
Her hair is up in a ponytail with two pieces hanging in front of her face.
There’s something dark around her eyes, something that makes them pop like warm honey in the sunlight.
Not that I notice.
Or care.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” I say, though she clearly wasn’t that startled.
“You didn’t,” she says. I expect her to follow that up with a ‘what are you doing here’, but instead, Riley says, “This is just like you. I should have known you’d get right to it.”
I don’t know what she means by that. “I hope you’re not too busy. I wanted to catch you before your shop opened. I figured we’ll both be pretty swamped this week and I didn’t want to delay this conversation.”
Her eyes shutter and she steps back. “Right. A conversation.”
“Well, that and an apology.”
“From me?”
“No, from me.” I step forward.
She tilts her head, batting her eyelashes. Have they always been that thick? They’re dark too, just like the outline of her eyes.
Focus, Nat.
I shuffle my feet in front of me, waiting for her to say something and put me out of my misery. Or at least say something that will make this less awkward.
But Riley keeps her mouth shut and just looks at me, refusing to bail me out.
I’m a worm on a hook.
Squirming, I blurt it out. “I’m sorry, Riley.”
“For what?”
“I should have recognized you.”
“Oh.” She starts to smile.
“And I’m sorry for hitting on you at the fair. I really regret it.”
A pained grimace takes over her face.
Nausea swirls in my gut.
Great. This is going terribly.
I haven’t apologized to a lady like this since that one time I climbed my grandmother’s neighbor’s tree and stole her prized apples. My grandmother marched me right back to the neighbor’s house, made me apologize and had me work on her farm for free for three days straight.
Since then, I’ve made it a rule to treat people with consideration. All bets are off on the ice, of course. But in real life, things are different. That phrase ‘do it now and ask forgiveness later’? That’s not the mantra I live by.
But just because I have a principle doesn’t mean it’s easy to walk it out.
As the silence thickens, I start to wish I didn’t feel so guilty about this particular infraction. Maybe it would have been easier to avoid Riley like she’s been avoiding me.
Stop complaining, Nat. Be a man and take accountability for what you did wrong.
The awkwardness is unbearable, but I push on. “I hope I haven’t made you uncomfortable. That wasn’t my intention at all and if I’d known it was you—”
She grimaces again.
“—I mean, it’s not that there’s anything wrong with you. I just wouldn’t have approached you like that in the first place.”
“Nathan, it’s fine. It’s not a big deal.”
“Great. Awesome. I’m glad to hear that, Riles. I was scared I’d made things weird.”
Riley turns away from me, her ponytail swinging. “You’re the one making it weird right now.”
“I apologize for that too.”
“You might as well start apologizing for world hunger and climate change while you’re at it.”
I chuckle.
“I can’t believe you drove all the way out here this early on a Monday morning for that.” Riley picks up a broom and starts to sweep the floor. “Does that night even count as ‘hitting on’ me? You were just asking for my name.”
I gulp so hard I’m sure they can hear it from Timbuktu. Does she really think that or is she just trying to make me feel better? I wasn’t being pushy with her at the fair. And based on what Chris said about Riley’s love life, perhaps she’s had far more disrespectful encounters.
But whether Riley recognized it or not, I know myself.
And I sure as day was flirting with her.
However, Riley has forgiven me and I don’t see the point of dissecting my infraction. That would be like telling my grandmother’s neighbor how much I enjoyed eating the apple I stole.
She stabs at an oil puddle on the floor. “Where is this stupid oil coming from? I thought we threw away the barrel.”
“Let me.” I take two giant steps toward Riley and grab the broom from behind.
Her fingers tighten around it. “It’s fine. I got it.”
This is also new. I can’t remember a time in the past when Riley would insist on doing chores.
“I might as well make up for my wrong-doing,” I protest as I jerk the handle slightly toward myself.
“It wasn’t that big of a deal.” She has her back to me so, when she pulls the broom in the other direction, the bristles slide between my legs.
“Riley, don’t be so stubborn. Let me…” The rest of my words trail off as Riley twists her head to look at me.
We’re standing close.
Too close.
I can see that her face is now porcelain smooth and her eyes are two, crystal clear pools of sparkling chocolate.
This isn’t fair.
I don’t want to notice how pretty she is but how can I not? Unless I pluck out my eyes. Or pluck out hers.
Don’t go all serial killer, Nathan.
Riley’s breathing changes and a slight pink stain rises in her cheeks.
The air between us hums with something it definitely shouldn’t.
“Hey-o, boss!”
I release the broom and Riley does the same, jumping away as if it scalded her. The stick of the broom lands on the floor with a loud twat and the other end see-saws upward, making a beeline for my future children.
Thank the good Lord for athlete’s instincts.
I pounce high and back before the broom can mess with my family tree. It barely brushes my jeans before slamming back down to the ground.
“Jimmy!” Riley shrieks.
“Oh! We got a customer!”
I turn around.
An old man who looks frailer than the broom on the floor makes a dramatic gasp. “Nathan Campbell?” Jimmy covers his mouth, eyes growing bigger by the second. “Man, I’ve been seeing you around town, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to talk or not. I’m a big fan.”
“Hey, man.”
Jimmy shuffles forward. “How you doing? How’s your leg?”
“Fine, thanks,” I say awkwardly. It’s the number one question people ask me when they recognize me and I’ve started to wonder if I should wear a shirt that says ‘before you ask, my leg is fine’.
“Good, good.” Jimmy glances through the large doors to the parking lot. “Where’s your car? Need me to drive it in for yah?”
“I’m not here for car repair,” I tell him, picking up the fallen broom.
His gaze darts between me and Riley. “Are you two—”
“No!” Riley yells.
Jimmy scratches his head. “Then why are you here so early just to see the boss?”
“Because I’m her brother.” The words feel right and I smile.
Moving forward, I’m going to remove all untoward thoughts about my best friend’s little sister. I’ll be as good of a brother to Riley as that boy at the fair who gave his crying sibling the stuffed bear.
Unfortunately, Riley doesn’t seem thrilled. She shoots me a knife-like stare that has me ducking for cover.
“Really?” Jimmy tilts his head. “But your last name is Campbell and hers is Carter.”
“Not siblings by blood, but we grew up together. Her brother and I are best friends and—”
I stumble forward when the broom I was grabbing is abruptly wrenched from my fingers.
“Thanks for stopping by, Nathan.” The way Riley says ‘Nathan’ reminds me of my second grade teacher who constantly called me up to the front for being ‘too much of a class clown’.
It’s weird. Riley is younger than me, but she keeps reminding me of my past female authority figures.
“Don’t you have practice?” she asks pointedly.
“It’s training, but yes, I do.” I check my watch. “What time do you close today?”
Riley’s mouth remains pinned shut.
“At five,” Jimmy offers helpfully.
I give him a nod of thanks and then tell Riley, “I’m not sure how long training will go, but I’ll try to make it back around then.”
“Why?” It sounds more like an accusation than a question.
“We have more to discuss.”
“Really, Nathan,” she says tersely, “we don’t need to talk about this anymore. Consider the air cleared. Consider the hatchet buried.” She makes a downward slashing motion and I get the sense that the hatchet is being buried alright… in my skull. “Go live in peace.”
I make my way to the door. Not because I want to but because the only thing left for Riley to do is take the broom and yell ‘shoo, shoo!’
“See you at five,” I say, stopping at the door with a backward wave. “Shrimp.”
I hear a clattering sound.
It’s the broom slamming into the wall near my head.
Laughter bubbles in my chest as I step into the sunshine.
Riley Carter’s big brother.
Yeah, I think I’ll be good at that.