Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
“ W ell, howdy ho,” Stella said to her reflection in the vanity mirror and then cringed. She sounded like that Christmas poop that showed up in the South Park holiday episodes Lucy made them watch every year.
She fastened the final elastic in her braided pigtail, turning her head from side to side to make sure it matched the other. Though she was going for a scarecrow look, it read more cowgirl…minus the hat. But the addition of straw sticking out of the sleeves of her flannel shirt would surely get the point across.
Her eyes drifted to the closed bathroom door, where Nate had disappeared to not long after they got back from grabbing a quick bite at the restaurant down the hall from their room. He’d told her the first day here that he hadn’t brought a costume, so she couldn’t imagine what was keeping him.
Tonight, the group was working at Boo at the Zoo, a favorite activity among the children of the community. When Lucy realized they’d be at the Oglebay while it was happening, she reached out to her friend Josie, an event planner for the resort, to see if they needed any volunteers. Turned out, they were happy to welcome the crew to hand out treats at various stations set up throughout the zoo.
She sat back from the vanity, pumping a couple of spritzes of hairspray to tame a few flyaways. “That ought to do.” She gave her reflection a satisfied nod before she put on her hat. It was pointed and brown, and the patches of fabric on it were a nearly perfect match to the flannel plaid she wore, which was a small miracle since she hadn’t bought the pieces together. The bill of the hat swooped, the felt material stiff enough to have much structure. But the way it allowed one eye to peep out made her feel a little…sexy?
And speaking of sexy…what was taking him so long? Whoa, where did that come from? She’d always thought of him as good looking. But sexy? She hadn’t given that much thought, unless you counted the number of times she replayed him making short work of the aerial course. In that case, she’d given it a lot of thought.
Stop it, Stella.
Had it only taken him showing a glimpse of his softer side to make her this unhinged?
You know it wasn’t just that. Think of how he held you close, how he made you feel safe, how he said you made a good team.
How he supported you.
She leaned toward the mirror, her elbow on the vanity to steady her hand as she drew a few freckles on her cheeks with her eyeliner pencil.
“This isn’t what I’d imagined.” Nate’s voice sounded above the squeak of the bathroom door, and her pencil fell on the table. She heard it roll until it plopped softly on the carpet, not knowing where it had gone. But something told her she needed to find it because her eye makeup was about to be ruined.
“What—?” Her breath caught as she viewed him in the mirror as he stood several feet behind her. She swallowed hard, closing her eyes tightly to keep any moisture at bay. But as she caught one last glimpse of herself in the mirror, the red rims around her eyes were undeniable. But could anyone blame her?
She turned in her chair with the speed of a snail because—come on—this was a dream, right? If she moved too fast, poof! Nate would disappear and, along with him, the worn jeans, straw-stuffed flannel, and floppy hat he wore.
“Howdy, ma’am,” he said with a tip of his hat as he took two steps toward her.
“You’re a scarecrow,” she responded because every ounce of energy she had was fighting like heck to keep her from crying, and there weren’t enough brain cells in reserve to do anything more than state the obvious.
“But I’m reading more cowboy, right?” He glanced down at his costume and then back up at her as a blush streaked his cheeks. Cheeks he’d reddened with face paint and sprinkled with darkened freckles that matched hers. He didn’t look like a cowboy. He looked like someone she wanted to hug.
“Nah,” she said with a sniffle because she was obviously allergic to the fake straw. Not because she was getting overly emotional at the sight of a man in a scarecrow costume. “I think you look perfect. But how? You said you didn’t have a costume for tonight.”
The side of his mouth kicked up, causing his cheek to follow, and the faint creases by his eye only made him more endearing to her. “I went into town and did a little shopping this morning.”
Ah. He hadn’t been in the room when she’d woken up. She figured he’d slipped out of the room to get a coffee or early breakfast. She never imagined he’d gone costume shopping.
“I just thought…” His eyes drifted to his hands as his fingers toyed with the straw he’d attached to the sleeves. “I wanted to show up for you.”
His face rose to meet hers, a nervous smile playing on his lips like he was waiting for her to respond, waiting for her to confirm that this was a good idea.
“You remembered,” she whispered.
“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked with a shrug.
Why wouldn’t he?
She knew herself enough to know that sometimes her zany ideas were a bit much for some people. She was a bit on the eccentric side, choosing to embrace every season of the year with the unbridled joy of a child. And why not? Why did becoming an adult mean you had to let the whimsy of the seasons dissolve? Why did the magic have to end?
Her throat clogged when she looked at this man she thought she knew so well. His stiff demeanor may have fooled everyone else, but she knew there was something underneath him that was as warm and gooey as a marshmallow over a campfire. And yet, she’d never imagined he’d go to these lengths just to make her smile. She knew for a fact he hated Halloween—he’d said as much last year while they decorated the salon. And he’d worn his usual dark tee and jeans to hand out candy.
The thought that he’d only done it to make them look like they were a real couple floated through her mind. It was certainly possible. But he’d remembered the story about her ex, repeating verbatim what she’d told him. Maybe he’d only gotten a costume to sell the act, but he could have picked any costume. The fact that he was standing here dressed like a scarecrow felt like it meant something.
She closed the gap between them, wrapping her arms around him as tightly as he’d held her on the aerial course. Back when he’d been her teammate, supporting her and cheering her on. And now here he was, literally suiting up and joining her, even though she knew he probably would have preferred his standard hoodie and jeans for the occasion.
“You have no idea what this means to me,” she said, still not able to bring herself to look at him. And also because his flannel-clad chest was as cozy as a warm blanket on a chilly afternoon.
“It really was nothing. I just wanted to make you happy.”
“Well, see…that’s where you’re wrong.” Stepping back, though not far enough to escape his hold, she peered into his dark eyes. “This isn’t nothing .” In that moment, it seemed like it was everything. “This is…”
Her breath caught as his teeth raked over his bottom lip, and his dark eyes that had sparkled in the light of the room now looked at her from under hooded lids. She followed the bob of his throat as he swallowed, and she wondered what the skin would feel like if she pressed her lips to it. Or better yet, what his lips, now slick from his tongue running over them, would taste like.
His hands around her waist tensed the slightest bit, applying enough pressure to invite her back into his space. An invitation she was more than willing to accept. The corners of his lips pulled from both sides, the biggest smile she’d ever seen from him. And as she leaned closer to his waiting mouth, she couldn’t help the smile that she flashed as well.
Until something jabbed her in the nose.
Achoo!
Thankfully, she’d turned away before she sneezed right in his face—especially since they’d been just inches apart.
“What the—” She turned back to the space she’d occupied a second ago, noticing for the first time the straw that stuck out from his chest. The straw that had ruined the most romantic moment she’d had in…well, ever.
“I’m so sorry,” he babbled as he pulled a box of tissues from the nightstand and handed them to her with a shaky hand. “I feel terrible.”
“That’s okay…it was just unexpected.”
His face fell. Wait…did he think she was talking about the near-kiss—or whatever that was? “I meant the straw. I hadn’t expected to be nasally assaulted by your tufts-of-straw chest hair.” She hadn’t expected almost kissing him either, but she certainly didn’t want him to think she was against the idea. Did she?
A laugh escaped his lips as he shook his head. “I guess it is a bit wild and unruly.”
She looked at the V of his shirt, the straw spilling out like he’d stuffed an entire cornstalk in there. “It’s certainly lush. Maybe if we—” Grabbing a few pieces from the center, she stuffed them a little farther into the shirt. “There. Now you’re ready.”
Giving him a once-over from a step away meant she was still close enough to touch him. Still close enough to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him back into the position they’d been in before his straw went up her nose. It must have gone far enough up there to scramble her brain, because she shouldn’t have wanted to get closer.
She should have wanted to thank him for going out of his way to dress up with her, grabbed her things, and headed for the zoo. He was her employee. He was off-limits. He was…her fake boyfriend. Of course that was why he’d done all this.
Whatever that moment was that they’d shared? She’d probably just misread it. Imagined it. Because she couldn’t get involved with Nate Myers.
No matter how much it thrilled her to think about.
“ Peas-ed to see you two this evening,” Johnny quipped as Nate and Stella met them at the entrance of the zoo.
“And here I thought Hannah was the queen of puns,” Nate said with a chuckle as he looked at Johnny and Angie, their faces sticking out of their pea pod costumes.
“You’re not wrong,” Hannah said as she waddled closer in a square-shaped costume with splashed of bright colors all over it and the words Fun Dip stretched across the center.
“But Hannah would never say the same pun over and over.” Max stepped beside his wife, putting his arm around her shoulders. “My wife’s got range.”
Johnny scoffed. “I’ve got range.” He put his hands on his hips, the action ten times more ridiculous coming from a pea pod. “I can’t believe I’m taking heat from a…” He squinted as he looked at his best friend. “A tampon, is it?”
“No!” Max groaned, throwing his hands in the air. “Obviously, I’m a Fun Dip stick.”
“A fun dipstick?” Angie asked, her lips twitching as she fought to hold in a laugh. “What even is that?” Johnny flashed his wife a thumbs-up. Clearly those two were rubbing off on one another.
“Would you two—” Max stopped and shook his head. “I’m the sugar stick you use to eat Fun Dip,” he answered, gesturing to Hannah as she curtsied in her sack of a costume—or as close to a curtsey as she could with the way the costume restricted her movement. “In what world do I look like a tampon?”
“I dunno, Maxine,” Johnny began as he stroked his chin playfully. “You better just stick close to Hannah if you wanna sell this costume, because otherwise…”
Nate zoned out. All this talk of feminine hygiene products made him a tad uncomfortable. Not because the items themselves made him uncomfortable. He wasn’t embarrassed by reproductive biology. Just last week, he’d run to the convenience store on the corner when Lucy had an emergency at the salon, and neither she nor Stella had been packing , as they called it.
No, this conversation just reminded him of the night Stella had decked him—right in the nose—which naturally reminded him of when his costume had gone up her nose…right before he’d kissed her.
What was he thinking? And how many times in just the first two days of this trip had he been chest-to-chest with this woman? He didn’t want to tally that right now because the answer would not make him happy. If his mission was to keep from touching her, he’d failed. Miserably.
What had made him happy was the way he’d helped her across the aerial course, working together and watching her confidence level rise—until she nearly fell.
Always the protector, how hadn’t he anticipated the near catastrophe? Why had he been so…distracted? Was it the gleam in her eye, made more noticeable by the way it shimmered in the soft sunlight? Or the way she held her neck high, as if to say I can do this , though it only made more visible the smooth skin of her neck—a place he so badly wanted to press his lips?
All of the above.
A woman’s voice snapped him back to the present. “You two can follow me.”
“Where’d everyone else go?” Nate asked, noticing only Stella and a woman he didn’t know standing with him. She wore a Halloween version of an ugly Christmas sweater with alternating ghosts and skeletons lined across the front. Attached to the sweater was a name tag that read Josie .
“Josie gave them their assignments, and they went to their stations already. Where were you, Nater Tot?”
“I…I don’t know,” he responded with a shrug. “We don’t have our assignments yet, do we?”
Stella moved closer, and when she put a hand on his upper arm, he flinched. And so did she? Had she felt that too? Whatever it was. Every time she touched him, it sent shockwaves throughout his entire body.
“No, Josie is going to take us to our station now. I meant, where were you—just now?” They took a couple steps on the path, her hand still tucked around his arm, her eyes never looking at where they were walking. “Are you okay? It is the costume?”
“Huh? No, not at all.” He tapped the brim of her floppy hat. “I’m actually enjoying being dressed up.” And he’d meant it. Though he’d never embraced the holiday before, he was starting to see all he’d been missing. Or maybe having her look at him in costume the way she had—her cheeks full and rounded as they called attention to a smile that made his chest tingle—made him enjoy the holiday a little this year. He would have donned any costume—even Max’s tampon garb—just to have her look at him that way again.
“Yeah. I was just thinking about something. No worries.”
Her hand trailed down his arm, a line of warmth following its path. And when she intertwined her fingers with his, a ball of heat overtook his entire body, which wasn’t ideal, since he ran a bit hot anyway. But he didn’t care—unless, of course, his palm began to sweat.
With her free hand, she pulled a few Goldfish crackers from her purse and offered them to Nate with her open palm. “Are you sure? You look very worried.”
I was. I still am.
But worry felt inadequate somehow, like he needed a word more intense, more dire than that. He’d almost shifted in front of Stella on the aerial course this morning. In fact, he should have shifted. And that had him way more worried than the word conveyed.
It wasn’t like he’d had a choice. Acting quickly was the only way to save her. And yet, it was nearly his undoing, what with all the adrenaline pulsing through his veins. But he’d known better, and he should have been more careful, just like he always was—or at least how he’d been lately.
“I was just thinking about our morning together.” And how I could have killed you.
Though he had no idea how, he’d stopped before he fully shifted. Normally, he blacked out when he turned into a werewolf, not knowing what he was doing or who he might hurt. So, from the moment he sprang to rescue Stella to the time he held her in his arms, the details of the in-between were hazy at best. Though, the memory of her body melting into his was as clear as the cloudless sky above them on the perch.
But so was the look of shock when she’d seen his hands. Or at least, he thought that was what she’d seen. The fact that she hadn’t mentioned them or asked about them was a mystery he couldn’t solve—not that he really wanted to.
“Here’s your station,” Josie said as they approached a large, red barn. She walked behind a large table off to the side of the path. Covered with a black cloth, it had orange streamers and a matching flashing light strand draped in the front. Pumpkins of varying sizes and shapes, carved with unique faces, glowed on either end of the table while bins of treats lay hidden underneath. “When the children come, they’ll deposit a ticket into the bucket, and you’ll give them a treat. It’s how we keep trick-or-treaters from hitting the stations more than once.”
She nodded. “Sounds easy enough. We can work on our gingerdead houses in the meantime, right? Someone from the senior center will be by to pick them up tomorrow?”
Josie nodded. “Mr. McMannus will be here at nine. So, if you don’t have any questions, I’m off to make my rounds.” She turned to make her way down the path toward the chicken coop when she stopped. “I almost forgot. There’s a walkie-talkie in the treat bin, in case you need to get ahold of me for any reason. But it also connects with the other treat stations, so keep that in mind. There’s also a box with supplies for the ginger-dead houses. You can work on them throughout the night when you get a break and just drop them off in the conference room at the lodge when you’re ready.”
“Got it,” Stella said as she held up the walkie-talkie and placed it on the table.
“So, what do we do now?” Nate asked as he joined Stella behind the table.
She pushed the pieces of straw on her wrist to the side to check her watch. “Well, this shindig begins in twenty minutes, so I guess we can work on our ginger-dead house.” She sat in one of the two chairs behind the table and gestured for him to join her.
A cool breeze rustled the few remaining leaves on the trees around them, filling the air with the classic autumn scent he’d always loved. And mixed with the scent of gingerbread, it was his new favorite scent.
He unwrapped a giant gummy in the shape of a skull. “So, what’s the story with these houses? Lucy said this was your idea.”
“Yep. The one part of the week she let me plan.” She chuckled softly as she smeared some frosting on a black gumdrop and pushed it onto the preassembled house. “Lucy likes giving back to the community, so these will be a fun way to decorate the senior center for the holiday. Plus, I thought Lucy might enjoy something artistic, seeing as she is literally an artist.”
“Just like you.”
She quirked a brow. “Like me?”
“Of course.”
Stella pulled a Hershey’s Kiss from the bag, twisting it back and forth before grabbing a black marker. “I’m no artist, that’s for sure.” She pulled off the cap and drew tiny eyes and a mouth, somehow turning the simple candy into a ghost-like creature.
“You don’t think what you do is artistic?”
She eyed the Kiss and then looked over at him. “You think what I do is ?”
“Not that,” he said with a laugh. “But maybe that? That’s a creative take on a piece of candy.” She stuck the candy to the top of the roof, and he noticed a tiny blush staining her cheeks. “I meant at the salon. Every person who sits in your chair is a canvas waiting for your artistic touch. And you’re so good at bringing out the best in people.”
“Ah, I’ve come a long way.” She pulled a pumpkin-shaped Peep from the bag and placed it near the house’s door.
“Was it what you always wanted to do?”
She twisted her lips as her shoulders fell slightly, her eyes drifting to the side like she was weighing what she wanted to say next. “Not exactly.” Her fingers toyed with the wrapper of an orange starlight mint, and he wondered if that was all he was going to get out of her. But then she continued. “I was meant to be a performer.”
The way she said it— meant to be —felt like a purposeful word choice somehow. “Like a dancer?”
A laugh erupted from her so loud it woke the tiny donkey who’d been napping next to the barn behind them. “You saw me dancing before I punched you, right?”
He had. He just didn’t know that she’d known that part. And now he was the one with red cheeks. And neck. And chest.
“Not singing, then,” he joked.
“Definitely not singing.” She put the last piece of candy corn on the roof and pushed back from the table. “I auditioned at Julliard. I was going to be an actor.”
Whoa. So, this wasn’t just a hobby. When she said she was meant to do this, she’d really meant it. “That’s impressive.”
“Yes, well…my audition was not.” She blew out a sigh. “I got up on the stage and totally spaced. I’d spent most of my life until that point on a stage and never missed a word of dialogue. But that day…I totally choked.”
“Gosh, that…sucks.” He didn’t know what to say, but most things would have been better than that. Stating the obvious was totally lame. Or so he thought…until he saw her smile.
“You’re right. It did suck. Big time.” And then her smile fell. “My ex felt the same.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to bring up?—”
“Don’t worry about it. I chopped him off like some dead ends last year.” She’d gone for levity, but the sag of her shoulders didn’t quite convey it. “Being on stage so much, I’d had an interest and talent in doing hair and makeup—a hobby, he’d called it. Still even called it that while I was in and when I graduated from cosmetology school. And while I started working at Hairy Stylez. But when I started talking about owning it…” She took a deep breath, and he could see a sheen covering her eyes. “He realized the ‘beauty parlor’ wasn’t a hobby. It was something I was passionate about. Something I enjoyed. And the more he pushed me to ‘get back on the stage,’ the more I realized my chief appeal to him was my worth as a celebrity. Not as a stylist or business owner.”
“That’s—”
“Something I should have realized sooner.”
“No.” He shook his head, willing his temper to cool down. “He should have been there for you no matter what you wanted to be.”
The corner of her mouth tipped up. “Even if I wanted to be a scarecrow?”
“Especially then.”
“You know, the last thing he said to me was that he hoped I wouldn’t choke on the salon like I’d choked at my audition.” Her eyes drifted off, which was a good thing because then she couldn’t see the way his fists balled at the confession. Though, she probably heard his knuckles crack. “I think that’s why…no, I know that’s why I haven’t been able to make the changes I’ve wanted. I mean, I went so far as to order the paint and a few other things to remodel the salon, to make it mine. But they’ve sat in the supply room for weeks. And the one thing I really wanted, that chandelier you saw a photo of in my office…well, I couldn’t even bring myself to order that.”
Ah, now the remodeling supplies in the back room of the salon made sense. “Why not?”
“Because I feel like that’ll make it…real.”
Nate nodded. He could appreciate that. “But don’t you see? You’re rocking the business. You said yourself that our profits are up. I think you’ve earned the chandelier.”
This wasn’t about a fancy light installation. He knew that.
The strands of lights in the trees above casted a glow all around her, tiny spotlights she didn’t need to be seen. Because a woman like her shone from within, bright and warm, and even more so when she smiled the way she was smiling at him now. Why was she smiling at him like that? He was just about to ask when a baby Grogu walked up to the table.
“Trick or treat,” he said as he opened his bag.
And just like that, another moment with her was over. But instead of breathing a sigh of relief, like he had all the other times, there was a ball of something heavy in his stomach. It was disappointment. And it swirled with anticipation, wishing for the next time she’d let him in again.
Only next time, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop.