3. Nolani #3
One gallon slipped toward my fingertips. I shifted the books higher beneath my arm as my pendant caught briefly against the strap of my purse. My fingers went to it automatically while I stepped backward to keep Nana’s print from sliding.
A man’s voice sounded behind me.
“Careful.”
My shoulder met a solid chest before I could turn.
Peach tea launched from my cup. The lid went airborne, and a cold amber sheet splashed across a white T-shirt while something wrapped in brown paper slipped from the man’s hand and landed beside my sandal.
For one stunned second, neither of us moved.
Then I looked down.
A half-unwrapped Hershey bar with almonds lay beside my empty cup.
The man looked at the tea spreading across his shirt, then at the ruined chocolate.
When his eyes lifted to mine, recognition arrived first.
The stranger from the fishing table.
Up close, the rest of him became considerably harder to dismiss as casual observation.
Sunlight deepened the warm brown of his skin, and a neatly shaped beard framed features already carrying amusement.
His locs were neatly swept into a ponytail.
The peach tea had soaked through his shirt thoroughly enough to provide information I had neither requested nor managed to ignore.
My eyes betrayed me.
Briefly.
Unfortunately, he caught that too.
“Well, you managed to ruin my shirt and my chocolate in one move. That’s impressive.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do either one.”
“I figured. Most women introduce themselves before committing beverage-related violence.”
“I backed into you. That hardly qualifies as violence.”
“That sounded suspiciously close to a confession.”
“It was an explanation.”
“Mmm-hmm. And I respect how fast the defense got organized.”
My laugh escaped me.
His expression said he’d been hoping for exactly that.
My fingers found the pendant again.
His attention dropped toward my hand.
“You good, Hershey?”
I stared at him. “What’d you call me?”
“Hershey.”
“That is not my name.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know my name.”
He nodded once. “Valid point.”
“Then why are you naming me?”
He glanced toward the ruined chocolate beside my sandal. “Context clues.”
I almost laughed again. “It should’ve stayed in your head.”
“Probably.”
“Probably?”
He bent to retrieve the candy, and damp cotton stretched across his shoulders.
My books suddenly required inspection.
“My judgment compromised right now,” he said as he straightened. “I’m grieving.”
“It was one chocolate bar.”
“With almonds.”
“My condolences.”
“Thank you. Means a lot during this difficult time.”
A smile betrayed me.
His eyes dropped toward the hand still resting near my throat. “You always grab that necklace when you get flustered?”
“I’m not flustered.”
“No?”
“No.”
He nodded toward my fingers. “Then that pendant must’ve said something out of pocket.”
I released it immediately. “I’m carrying too much. That’s all.”
“That part, I believe.”
“You pay entirely too much attention.”
“I coach football. Patterns matter.”
“Studying strange women behind restaurants is part of the job description?”
“Only when said strange woman dumps peach tea on me and then starts arguing with visible evidence.”
“I am not arguing.”
“You definitely arguing.”
“I’m explaining.”
“With impressive commitment.” I opened my mouth, realized he was enjoying every second of this, and closed it again. His grin widened. “See? Growth already.”
“You are aggravating.”
“We’ve known each other four minutes.”
“Long enough.” One of the gallon jugs shifted against my fingers. He reached toward it, then stopped short of touching the handle. “May I?”
I looked at his hand, then at him. “You’re asking?”
“My mama raised me.”
“I was beginning to wonder.”
His laugh came low and easy.
I surrendered the gallon. “Only until we reach the parking lot. And don’t mistake this for proof I needed help.”
“I wouldn’t disrespect your preferred narrative like that.”
“You’re enjoying this entirely too much.”
“I am.”
At least he was honest.
He adjusted the gallon in one hand, the ruined chocolate in the other, and looked at everything still balanced against me. “You got a book bag, tea for a church picnic, artwork, lunch, and somehow still committed to proving you had it handled.”
“I did have it handled before I backed into you.”
“You were lost.”
“I took a wrong turn.”
“Behind a restaurant.”
“Because of the festival sign.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “So we blaming infrastructure.”
“I’m not blaming anything.”
“Hershey, you got a very generous relationship with accountability.”
I stared at him. “You’re wearing my tea.”
“Exactly. I’m invested now.”
Another laugh got away from me.
He noticed that too.
Of course he did.
“You always this pleased with yourself?”
“Nah. Sometimes I exceed expectations.”
“That was awful.”
“You laughed.”
“I did not.”
“You definitely did.”
I pressed my lips together.
His eyes dropped there for half a beat before returning to mine, and something about the shift changed the temperature between us without changing the weather.
“Stop studying me.”
“Can’t promise that.”
“That doesn’t sound very gentlemanly.”
His amusement eased without disappearing. “A gentleman can notice a beautiful woman and still respect her boundaries. Those things ain’t enemies.”
That one caught me differently.
My fingers loosened away from the pendant.
“You rehearse these answers?”
“Nah. Rehearsed game falls apart the minute somebody asks a follow-up question.”
“So this is game?”
He looked at me for a second, and the playfulness in his face settled into something more direct.
“This is me talking to a woman I’m interested in talking to. You being beautiful ain’t exactly hurting my attention span.”
The compliment reached me before I could prepare for it.
Heat spread beneath my skin.
His eyes registered the reaction, but he didn’t tease me about it. Instead, he bent, picked up my empty cup, and dropped it into a nearby trash bin.
“Come on, Hershey. Let’s find your car before something else becomes a casualty.”
“You are way too comfortable with that nickname.”
“I’ve had it almost five minutes.”
“That isn’t how ownership works.”