Chapter 6
Nate switched his playlist from classical to a mix from the sixties. It would be his luck to pull over and try relieving his headache at a quiet spot a loopy lady would wander upon.
He should’ve kept driving. Except twice he’d almost nodded off. And that was before the headache hit. But what did he expect after not sleeping well these past few weeks, then dealing with all the emotions of the funeral service today?
Nate leaned forward, elbows digging into the rotting rail of the bridge. He still couldn’t believe it. His mentor, gone. A man who’d been more of a father figure to him than his own father had ever been.
He started to reach for his pocket, then remembered the letter was inside his carry-on. He’d read it later. He didn’t have the emotional stamina right now to read the final words he’d ever receive from the greatest man he’d ever known.
Especially since Nate already knew what those final words would say. You need to forgive your dad.
No, thanks. Let his dad keep reaching out, Nate wanted no part of the man. What he wanted was his mentor back.
Nate slid his fingers beneath his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose to barricade any more tears, then breathed out a quiet laugh. Guess that was one thing he could say about Miss Crazy Pants. She had a way of distracting a man from his grief, didn’t she?
Under different circumstances he might not have found her so crazy. He might’ve found her . . . intriguing? The woman certainly loved her sister, no doubt about that.
Plus, not all that often he met a woman who matched his height.
Looking her straight in the eyes had been kind of nice.
Had he ever seen such a striking shade of blue before?
Almost turquoise. Reminded him of the ocean.
Not necessarily a peaceful one. More like an unhinged-category-five-hurricane-waves sort of ocean.
Come to think of it, unhinged may be the perfect description for her hair too.
Sounds to me like you want to get her number.
Nate shrugged off the thought that sounded suspiciously like his mentor’s teasing voice and whispered, “I came to Nebraska for you, old friend. Not silly bench-stealing beauties.”
Ah. So you admit she’s a beauty.
Nate smiled, knowing this was the exact type of conversation they’d be having if his mentor was still around. The memory of laughter echoed inside Nate’s head, filling his heart with an ache he imagined wouldn’t go away anytime soon. Man, he was going to miss the sound of that laugh.
Nate rotated his neck. Headache was better. The little nap on the bench helped. Should probably get back on the road. His mom would kill him if he missed his flight tonight. Not that he could blame her.
He hadn’t made a trip down to her B&B in Bugle, Tennessee, for far too long. Hopefully this little visit would win him back inside her good graces. Hopefully offer a quiet place to recharge after an especially busy school year, too.
He pushed off the rail of the bridge and started to turn when a body plowed into his. “Wha—?”
Crazy Pants covered his mouth with her palm. He still had his earbuds in, so while her lips moved in a frantic frenzy all he could hear was Simon and Garfunkel singing about a bridge over troubled water. Rather appropriate.
He pulled her fingers away from his mouth with one hand and paused his music playing on his phone with the other. “What is your problem now?”
“Shh. My sister and her boyfriend are coming.” Her words were muted, but he got the gist.
“Wonderful. I’m leaving. The bench, the bridge, the river—it’s all yours.”
“Stop shouting.” She popped out his earbuds. The sounds of the lapping river and the wind weaving throughout tree branches were amplified for a second until his ears adjusted. He forgot his earbuds had been on noise cancellation mode, so maybe he had been talking a little loud.
He took the earbuds from her, as well as his notebook, and dropped them into his messenger bag. “Thanks. See ya.”
The bridge creaked as he shifted to step around her.
“What are you doing?” Crazy Pants grabbed him by the shirt and spun them both around so that he was facing the opposite side of the river now. “You can’t leave. Not now. We’re in this together, baby.”
“You and I are in nothing together.” Though he couldn’t deny that hearing a woman, even an unhinged one, call him baby stirred up a warm little ripple in his gut.
Which must be why his feet remained planted even though his brain screamed go, go, go.
“Can you go easy on the shirt? It means a lot to me. I got it for completing a triathlon for charity.”
Why did he say that? He wasn’t trying to impress her, was he?
“Sorry.” She smoothed the fabric with her fingers, then immediately clutched it again and crouched. “Can you stand a little taller? I don’t want them seeing my face.”
“I’m six two. Maybe you should stand a little shorter.”
“I stand any shorter, I’ll be the Hunchback of Notre Dame.” She spun them in another half circle. “There. I’m on the downward angle of the bridge. Now I’m shorter than you.”
“Is this height thing an issue for you?”
“It wouldn’t be if you were taller. Give me your hat.” Before he could respond, she swiped it off his head.
“Careful. That hat means a lot to me, too. I got it after I completed my first Ironman competition.” Okay, yeah. He was definitely trying to impress her.
“Good grief. Do you have a sentimental attachment to your socks as well?” So much for trying to impress her.
She plopped the cap on her head and tried shoving her flaming curls beneath it, which only caused the hat to spin like a figure skater on top of her head. “What’s happening? Do you see them? Have they made it to the bench yet?”
He tore his gaze from her long enough to spy a couple walking toward the bench. “Maybe. How do I know if that’s them?”
“Is the guy the size of a moose and the girl the size of a chipmunk?”
Nate nodded. “Pretty much.”
“That’s them,” she said, finally giving up and letting the hat sit backwards with all her hair spilling out. “What’s happening now? Does it look like they’re engaged?”
“The chipmunk is waving her arms. Now the moose is waving his arms. So . . . maybe?”
“Does it look like a celebratory, yay-we’re-engaged sort of wave?”
“More like a darn-mosquitoes-are-everywhere sort of wave. Uh-oh.”
“Uh-oh? What uh-oh? Why are you uh-oh-ing?”
“They just glanced our way.”
She fisted the sides of his T-shirt and tugged him closer. “They can’t know it’s me.”
“Well, hate to tell you, but I left my trench coat and fake mustache in my other pants pocket, so not really sure what you want me to do here.”
“Pocket.”
Nate swiveled his gaze from the moose and chipmunk, who were still waving their arms and shooting glances toward the bridge, to the hyperventilating squirrel standing right in front of him. “Was that some sort of code word? Because now I’m even less sure what you want me to do here.”
“I still have the ring in my pocket.”
“Okay?”
“It can’t be in my pocket when it’s supposed to be on the bench. It’s not supposed to be on me at all.”
“Okay?”
“Take it.”
“The ring? No way.”
“Pretend that it’s yours.”
“Are you trying to kiss me?”
“What? Why would you even think that?”
“Because you made out with my armpit earlier, your nose is currently one millimeter away from my nose, and now you’re trying to get into my pants.”
“Okay, sir, calm down. I’m simply hiding a ring in your pocket. No need to make a scene.”
“You’re the one putting on an entire production,” he said, shoving the small ring with the giant diamond back into her hands. “That ring looks expensive. I don’t want anything to do with it.”
“Fine. But for the record—”
“Oh, good. Hate to not have all this down on the record.”
“None of this would be happening right now if you’d just given up the bench like I kindly asked you to.”
“Uh-huh, and remind me again which was the kind part? Was it when you sprayed me in the face with Windex or . . . ?”
“Let’s just focus on the task at hand. Are they engaged yet?”
Nate leaned a few inches to the side. “Nobody’s hugging, crying, or screaming, so I’m going to say no. Honest question, how long do you think you can keep them from noticing you? You are a distinctively tall woman.”
“Would you knock it off about my height?”
“So it is a sore topic for you.”
“Are you trying to start another fight?”
Maybe. It was the most fun he’d had with a woman in months. Who was he kidding? Years. Could he even remember the last woman he’d had fun with? And after a day like today, Nate could use a little fun. “I’m just trying to keep you from kissing me. You seem rather determined.”
She leaned in so close he could see flecks of pale green woven within the bright blue of her eyes. “I assure you, the last thing I want to do right now is kiss you.” She punctuated the last word with a little thrust of her chin—and a definite purse in her lips.
“Really? Because something just touched my lips. And I’m pretty sure it was your lips.”
And she knew it too, based on the rosy flush in her freckle-spattered cheeks. “I didn’t mean to get that close.”
“Has this whole thing been a ploy just so that you could kiss me?”
“It was an accidental lip bump.”
“Do you even know that moose and chipmunk over there?”
“Can you just pretend that you like me for thirty seconds without being weird about it?”
Maybe it was his nonexistent dating life since college.
Maybe it was the loss of his mentor. Maybe it was the ongoing texts from his dad he was finding harder to ignore.
Nate didn’t know. But pretending to be someone he wasn’t, such as a flirty guy with a gorgeous girlfriend for thirty seconds, felt a lot better than being himself—a lonely poetry-loving teacher with a gaping wound in his heart and daddy issues.
Which must be why he dropped his mouth next to her ear. “Like this?”
Her shoulders hunched. “But without all the breathiness, please.”
“So like this?” He straightened like a guard at Buckingham Palace.