Chapter Eleven
Bailey stepped inside the gates of Cedar Point, a bounce in her step. “I want to go on Gemini first.”
He fell in step beside her. “You always want to go on Gemini first.”
“It’s my favorite.”
“I know. You made me go on it with you the first time we came here.”
“Aw, you remembered. That’s so sweet.”
“A guy doesn’t forget the first time he projectile vomits on thirty strangers.”
She snorted out a laugh and snagged his hand to give it a swing. “You can just watch this time.”
“Thank you so much. You liked the museum.”
She glanced up at him as they made their way down the fairway. He’d slid on a pair of sunglasses in the car, mirrored lenses that reflected her own face back at her. “I said I did.”
“No, I mean you really liked it. You didn’t go to the gift shop until the end.”
“To buy your souvenir,” she reminded him. “Which is adorable, by the way.”
“Forget it, it’s mine.”
“I bought it,” she corrected.
“For me, because that was the deal.” He looked down at her. “You could’ve bought yourself one.”
“I was going to, but you got the last one.” She aimed a pout. “What are you going to do with it?”
“It’s a Christmas ornament. I’m going to put it on my Christmas tree.” He tugged her hand to pull her out of the path of a mass of giggling, chattering teenagers. “Why, what were you going to do with it?”
“Hang it from my rear-view mirror.”
He laughed.
“It’s too pretty to only put up at Christmas.
” They skirted around a mom trying to soothe a crying toddler.
Bailey imagined the ice cream cone currently melting on the ground at the toddler’s feet was the cause of the distress.
“How about you let me hang it from my mirror until December, then you can have it for the tree.”
“Get your own,” he repeated.
“Friends share, Nash,” she pointed out.
“Blah, blah, blah.” He drew to a halt and looked up at the twin curls of steel track above them that was the Gemini. “We’re here.”
“Oh good, the line’s short. Sure you don’t want to come with me?” she asked, giving his hand a playful tug. “It’s been what, ten years since you’ve ridden a coaster? Maybe you’ve gotten over the puking thing.”
“If I haven’t, I’ll be puking on you,” he pointed out.
“On second thought.” She dropped his hand. “See you after.”
“I’ll be here.”
But when she got off the coaster, flushed and happy, he wasn’t.
She looked around, shading her eyes—she needed to find a shop that sold sunglasses—and spotted him crossing the blacktop, dodging people, with an ice cream cone in each hand.
“That was fast,” he said when he reached her.
“Short line. What’s this?”
He held out a cone. “Moose Tracks.”
“Yum.” She took the cone and gave the dripping treat a lick. “What’d you get?”
“Superman.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Ew.”
“Judge not lest ye be judged, she who puts pineapple on pizza and eats oysters.”
Bailey choked back a laugh. “Where to next?”
“It’s your rodeo,” he reminded her. “I’m just here for the ice cream.”
“Iron Dragon.” She turned in a circle. “I think it’s that way.”
“Lead on, MacDuff.”
She started walking. “The quote is ‘lay on, MacDuff’.”
He fell into step beside her. “Then lay on, MacDuff.”
“And it doesn’t mean ‘lead the way’ it means ‘let’s fight’. Macbeth said it to MacDuff during their duel.”
“I’ll fight you after I finish my ice cream.”
They found the Iron Dragon, and Nash held Bailey’s ice cream for safekeeping while she rode it. They worked their way through the park, Bailey riding the coasters and Nash holding her food, and the ever-growing pile of stuff she just had to buy.
“Why did you need a giant stuffed elephant again?” he asked, stopping to hitch it more securely under his arm.
“It’s cute.” She reached up to drape the trunk around Nash’s neck. “There, now so are you.”
She couldn’t see his eyes behind the sunglasses, but his exasperation was clear. “Then you carry it.”
“I can’t, I’ll get cheese all over it.”
He looked at the giant container of nachos in her hand. “Give me one of those.”
“Of course, Nash.” She smiled sweetly and scooped up a chip, dripping with cheese sauce and loaded with jalapenos. “I’m willing to share.”
He ignored the jab and opened his mouth. She slipped the chip in, and he crunched with obvious delight. “Mmm. More.”
“Okay, but let’s sit.” She looked around, and spotting an empty bench, pointed. “There.”
They trooped over, Nash almost dropping the elephant twice, and sat. Nash piled his loot—technically, her loot—on the bench beside him, then reached for the nachos. He lifted a chip, dripping with cheese, and crammed it into his mouth. “God, these are disgusting.”
“I know.” She snagged one for herself, savoring the creamy cheese sauce and the bite of the jalapenos. “But so good.”
He grunted in agreement and continued to eat. “We need a drink.”
There was a lemonade stand directly across from them. “I’ll be right back.”
She had to wait in line, so by the time she got back with two giant cups of lemonade, there were only a few nachos left in the bowl.
Nash traded them for one of the drinks. “Saved the last ones for you.”
“You’re too generous.” She sat down, and with the lemonade on the ground between her feet, polished them off.
“I have a question about the group project.”
She glanced at Nash. “Okay.”
“Where do you want to have it?”
“You mean like, what location?” She sucked cheese sauce off her thumb. “I hadn’t really thought about it. What are my options?”
“At home, or an in-call space of one of his friends.”
She frowned. “Not a hotel?”
He shook his head. “Sawyer nixed that. Too risky.”
“Oh.” She couldn’t think why a hotel would be risky, but he was the professional. “Why don’t you choose?”
“Me?”
“Sure. I trust you,” she said, then jerked when the phone in her pocket buzzed. She pulled it out, then stilled when she read the text from Chloe in the group chat.
On my way to tell them. Wish me luck.
“Shit.”
“Problem?” Nash asked.
Bailey looked up, then back at her phone. “Maybe,” she said, thumbs flying as she texted back.
Do you need us?
Depends how this goes, came the reply.
Gwen replied before Bailey could. On standby. Keep us posted.
Will do, Chloe replied. Love you guys.
Bailey sent back her customary heart emoji, then looked up. “I need to go home.”
If Nash was caught off guard, he didn’t show it. He stood, carried the empty nacho bowl to the trash can a few feet away, then came back and picked up the elephant. “Okay, let’s go.”
Bailey got to her feet, nearly upending the forgotten lemonade. She picked it up and tossed it in the trash, then reached for the elephant. “I can carry that.”
“I’ve got it. You get the bag.”
She scooped up the bag that held the T-shirt, keychain, souvenir mug and the caricature she’d made Nash sit for. “Thanks, Nash.”
“No problem.” He shifted the elephant, stuffing it under one arm, then snagged her hand.
He was moving quickly, dodging and weaving through the throngs of people like a Heisman candidate, and she had to scramble to keep up. “Slow down.”
“Sorry.” His pace immediately eased. “I figured it was an emergency.”
“Not exactly,” she hedged.
“So, I don’t need to risk an arrest for reckless driving on the way home?”
They were almost at the exit. “Maybe just a speeding ticket.”
“Got it.”
The walk across the packed parking lot seemed interminable, but within ten minutes she was buckling her seatbelt and pulling out her phone again.
She started to text Gwen, then decided to call instead.
“Hey,” Gwen answered.
“You at work?”
“I did the lunch shift, just got off. Where are you?”
“Sandusky.”
“What the hell are you doing there?”
“It’s a long story.” Bailey braced a hand on the door as Nash took the turn out of the parking lot at speed. “I’m on my way back now.”
“It’s what, an hour and a half drive?”
Bailey glanced at the speedometer and did some quick math. “More like an hour.”
Nash hit the freeway onramp and put his foot to the floor. “I can get that down to forty-five minutes.”
“Was that Nash? You’re in Sandusky with Nash?”
“Long story,” Bailey repeated. “It’s not life or death, Nash. You can keep it under eighty.”
He eased his foot off the accelerator, then set the cruise control at seventy-eight.
“If this is about the gang bang, I don’t want to know about it,” Gwen was saying.
“Not everything is about sex, Gwen.”
Gwen snorted. “Right. Listen, I have a date tonight—”
“Speaking of sex.”
“Ha ha. I’m not meeting him until seven, but I’m going to cancel.”
Bailey glanced at the clock on the dash. It was quarter to four. “Hold off on that. If we haven’t heard back from Chloe by the time I get back into town, I’ll have Nash drop me at your place. We can figure things out from there.”
“That’ll work. Tag me when you hit town.”
“Will do. Later.” Bailey disconnected the call, checked the group chat—nothing new—then leaned back against the headrest with a sigh.
“Everything okay?”
“So far.” She opened her eyes. Ohio was flying by through the windshield, Nash’s hands firm on the wheel. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“This,” she said, gesturing. “Getting me home, not asking any questions.”
“I figured if it was my business, you’d tell me. And if it’s not?” He shrugged. “I don’t need to know. Unless whatever trouble Chloe’s in is going to come for you.”
That startled a laugh out of her. “That would be literally impossible.”
He looked at her briefly, then turned back to face the road. “Okay, then.”
For a moment, the only sound was the highway rushing by under the wheels. Then Nash said, “Can I ask you a personal question?”
Wiling to be distracted from worrying about Chloe, she glanced at his profile. “I might not answer, but you can ask.”
“Fair enough. How’d you manage the hysterectomy?”
“With excellent prescription drugs.”
He flashed a grin. “Good for you, but that’s not what I’m asking. How’d you get a doctor to finally do it?”