Chapter 29
Stevie
My pulse quickens at the rumble of a diesel engine outside my house. Adam is here.
I sling my purse over my shoulder and check myself in the small mirror by my front door.
Nothing has changed since I looked forty-five seconds ago.
The humid summer air hasn’t flattened my curls yet.
I don’t have any lipstick on my teeth, and I didn’t get any toothpaste on my flouncy sundress when I panic-brushed again a few minutes ago.
I’m not worried that I’m being too obvious or trying too hard.
I want to try hard with Adam. I want to be obvious. I brushed my teeth twice for this man.
I haven’t seen Adam since our hike on Wednesday morning when we caught Greg the Poacher. Besides trading a few texts and phone calls, I’ve been on an unfortunate Adam fast. I don’t care for it.
He’s been dealing with a trail that washed out in the rain.
The stormy weather has been persistent this summer.
The woods are messy, which explains the ever-present mud on Adam’s jeans.
On top of that, he and Greg have been in hardcore cahoots.
Adam didn’t appreciate it when I said as much—serious men don’t do cahoots, I guess.
I just know that when I wandered into the preserve yesterday, the trail was newly marked with iridescent tape that flapped and flashed in the sunlight.
The stuff is meant to deter birds, but I’ll be shocked if anything less than a sasquatch could intimidate Butterballsy. That turkey needs jail time.
A soft knock on the door makes me jump.
“Adam,” I whisper to myself, swinging it open.
And there he is.
Oh. He cleans up nicely. He’s washed, shaved, ironed, broad-shouldered, and smiling in that lazy, dark-eyed way that makes my heart hammer. Something like a whimper escapes my throat.
“Are you, um—” He coughs. He visibly swallows, and I catch him eyeing my hair. “Geez, you’re beautiful. You catch me off guard every time.” He shakes his head, murmuring to himself, “You’d think I’d be used to it by now.”
With shaky hands I swat away the compliment and turn to lock my door behind me. “Did you notice if any of my neighbors are out?” I ask under my breath before we leave the covered safety of my front porch.
It’s one thing for us to get caught in the woods together—we both have Very Important Business there. It’s quite another for us to be dressed up and climbing into his truck in the late afternoon.
Instead of answering, he takes my hand, spinning me against his chest and wrapping his big arms around me. “None of your neighbors are out.” He lowers his mouth to mine, pressing a long, languid kiss there. “Thank goodness,” he says against my lips, his eyes closed.
It takes us far too long to make it off my porch.
Eventually—after an hour and a half drive and a dozen pestering questions from me—Adam parks his truck in front of what looks like a train depot in the middle of the trees.
All he told me about tonight was that he made dinner reservations far away from Cape Georgeana.
He wasn’t kidding. We’re in New Hampshire now, somewhere in the mountains.
“What are we doing?” I ask for the millionth time.
“Going to dinner.” He pulls my hand to his mouth. “Like I told you,” he growls against my skin. His hints have obviously been useless. The man is an egregious giver of clues. Lucky for him, he’s a first-class kisser of knuckles. He also seems to have figured out that I love solving a mystery.
I can’t help myself. “We’re going to dinner on a train?”
He nods. “Sit tight.” Then he’s out of his truck, dragging his hand through his hair while he circles the hood.
Dinner on a train, far away from suspicious eyes, people who bet against me, and men with charms on their Crocs? Oh, this is fun.
Adam opens my door and helps me down from his truck. Instead of peppering him with more questions, I loop my hand through his arm and tip my head against his shoulder while we walk.
“Thank you.” I sigh.
“For what?” He rests his heavy hand over mine. “We haven’t done anything yet.”
“For getting me away from everything and everyone.” I take a deep breath through my nose. The air is fresh and full of the scent of trees, sun-warmed earth, and a little bit of Adam.
His warm lips plant a kiss in my hair. “I’m finding that’s all I ever want to do.”
An hour later, I’m sitting in a dream.
Adam reserved a table on a dinner train that runs through the White Mountains.
There are fresh flowers and candles on the white tablecloths, Frank Sinatra’s voice is floating through the train car, and we’re surrounded by retirees.
A few of the gray-haired couples are slow dancing in the aisle now that the evening is winding down.
The five-course meal has been divine—focaccia with onion and thyme, salad, chicken saltimbocca, sorbet, and now crème br?lée.
I never want to leave this fantasy train.
No one in the history or future of the world can ever top this date.
Am I exaggerating? No. It’s just that good.
It isn’t the romantic setting, the music, the food, or even the cute elderly couples that are doing it for me. It’s Adam. I can’t stop sighing and staring at him while the lush summer scenery rolls past our window.
A truth has taken shape over the last few weeks, but I haven’t been able to acknowledge it consciously, much less say it out loud. Now that flickering candlelight is reflecting off the darkening windows of a train car, the truth is sitting in front of me, as undeniable as a mountain. Can I say it?
I’ll start with thinking it: Adam Sandoval is perfect for me. And I might . . . maybe . . . be falling for him.
I lost the bet.
I lost the bet, I repeat in my head, letting the words sink in.
The craziest part isn’t that I found someone who’s good enough for me.
It’s that I might’ve found someone who is too good for me.
No one needs to know, though. I’ll find evidence of the sasquatch—a footprint, a clump of hair, anything—and this whole thing can be done.
I’ll win, and Adam and I can stop living in hiding.
No more committees, public scrutiny, or secrets.
I have another sasquatch tour scheduled for tomorrow.
I have to find something. The more time passes, the more I wonder what I saw out in those trees that night.
I’ve rewatched the short video. I’ve revisited the location.
You’d think there would be one single footprint in the mud, but there’s nothing.
I feel crazy. The crème br?lée tumbles around in my stomach, and I drop my spoon, frowning out the window.
Adam’s warm hand finds mine, and he draws my attention back to him. “What’s on your mind?”
“Bigfoot.” I can’t even say the word without cringing.
The floor vibrates under my shoes, and Adam takes a deep breath. I’m sure he doesn’t want to talk about this, but his face gives nothing away.
Am I crazy? I don’t think so. I have plenty of evidence that I’m sane: I have a degree.
I’m a high school teacher. I have friends and family who would tell me if I’ve lost my mind—and they have, I realize with another cringe.
They’re so desperate for me to see that I’ve lost it, they’re literally betting against me.
I suspect my brothers are dodging my calls.
My dad is supportive, I remember, clinging to the thought like a life preserver. My dad doesn’t think I’m crazy.
I stifle a heavy sigh. This train of thought is awfully unpleasant for what is supposed to be a romantic train ride. I need to shake this off.
“Hmm.” Adam’s eyebrows draw together while he takes me in. Then the corner of his mouth turns up in a gentle smile. “Let’s get your mind off that guy.” He holds out a hand.
Threading my fingers through his, I ask without thinking, “Who?”
“Bigfoot?” Adam looks concerned as he pulls me to my feet.
That’s right. He doesn’t know my mind went from Bigfoot to a minor identity crisis that quickly. He leads me into the aisle where a few pairs of senior citizens are slow dancing.
“What are we doing?” I whisper in a rush.
Before he answers, he pulls my hand around his waist and settles it in place on his side.
His arm curls around me, dragging me against him.
Then he takes my other hand, using it to move us in a tight circle.
“We’re dancing,” he murmurs against my hair.
“And I’m making you think about something other than Bigfoot. Anything.”
The pleading in his voice makes me snicker. I run my fingers over the ironed fabric at his side. I love seeing Adam all cleaned up like this, but it puts a thought into my head that makes me fight another laugh. “You know, you kind of have a Bigfoot thing going on.”
He coughs, and his neck reddens against his crisp white collar. It takes a few seconds before he can respond. “What?”
I don’t know how I’ve never thought of this before. “Yeah.” I smooth my hand down his side. “Think about it. You live in the woods. You keep to yourself. Plus, you’re so . . .” How do I phrase this in a way that doesn’t make him sound like a swamp monster?
“Mysterious?” He fills in. “Please say mysterious.”
“Well, yeah.” We sway closer, and the train car feels like a bubble around us. I never want to leave this bubble. “But you’re also so . . . big and hairy.”
Adam laughs, and the rich, deep sound of it fills our bubble.
I went straight to Swamp Monster, didn’t I? “I just . . . I mean—”
“It’s okay.” He straightens, making my eyes level with his Adam’s apple. “I’m tall. I get it.”
“Don’t forget hairy,” I tease, resting my cheek against his shoulder while he leads us in a circle.
His hand moves to my back, and he rubs a slow line between my shoulder blades. “I shaved for this,” his voice rumbles beneath my cheek.
“I take it back,” I say with a drowsy laugh. Adam is so warm and cozy I could fall asleep here. I give in, lowering my eyelids while we sway. “I can admit when I’m wrong,” I lie.
His hand is still sliding up and down my back as he leads us for a few quiet minutes. Then his voice breaks into my half-dreaming thoughts. “Stevie?”
“Hmm?”
“I don’t want to hide us.”
I feel the words against my cheek as much as I hear them. “I don’t either.” I can’t wait for this stupid bet to end so I can just be with Adam. We’re so close.
“So, we can stop this?” He sighs, resting his scratchy chin in my hair.
“What?”
“We can tell people about us? Come clean?”
Oh no, he’s serious. I thought this was like one of those conversations where one person wishes it was summer and the other person says “I know, right?” and they both laugh until the snow slides off their parkas. But Adam isn’t wishing for summer in January. This feels more unrealistic, somehow.
“How?” I pull away from his warm chest, peering up at him.
His dark eyebrows pull together. “We tell people we’re together, and that you—”
“—lost the bet.” I finish his sentence with a pout. I hate losing.
He winces. “I was going to say that you have a boyfriend.”
Do I care about the bet right now? I can’t think of anything except what Adam just said. “Do I have a boyfriend?”
His incredulous look makes me laugh. He shakes his head. “Stevie.”
“What?” I’m begging him with my eyes: say it again.
“You have a boyfriend, but I want to be your very public, embarrassing, brings-flowers-to-you-at-work boyfriend.” He shakes his head again, and the heat crawling up his neck tells me this cost him a lot. “Can we come clean?”
I’m hyperventilating on the inside, and how can I say no to that face?
Adam knows exactly what he’s doing with those puppy dog eyes.
“Y-yes. Let’s do it. I’ll tell everyone I have a boyfriend.
I can admit that I lo—” My stomach flips.
“I los—” Why can’t I say the word? “I lost.” It finally comes out sounding strangled and desperate.
Do trains have airsick bags? I need one.
The corner of his mouth hitches. “You like to win, huh?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
Adam chuckles, tipping his head to the side in acknowledgment. He peers down at me with those eyes that got me into this mess. “I’m sorry I made you lose.”
“Don’t apologize.” I brush off his apology with a shaky laugh. “You didn’t do it on purpose.”
How am I supposed to fess up, though? I have a whole podcast centered around the fact that I’m determined to win this thing. My brothers will never let me hear the end of this. I can’t do it, but I can’t say no to Adam either. I like him way too much.
This is it.
We’re doing it. I don’t know how, but it’s happening.
“Okay. We can come clean.” The words fill me with dread and relief in equal measure. I need to stall him while I figure out how to do it. And if I’m honest, it’ll buy me a couple of days to search the woods. “Just give me a day or two to think about how to tell everyone, okay?”
“Of course I can wait.” He grins down at me, his eyes full of so much affection it makes me melt against his chest again. “If you’ll admit you’re using those two days to find Bigfoot.”