“I would tightrope across an active volcano, just to fetch you a sandwich,” he calls from his truck, inching along. Dividing his attention between me and the road.
I wind a finger in circular motions. “Keep going.”
“You make my pants tight.”
“Is that the best you can do? My while is not being worthed.”
“For you, Romina Romina,” he tells me, as someone walking in the opposite direction slows to listen, “I would move to Moonville, just so I can look out my window and pinpoint exactly where the sun rises over your house. So that you’re never farther away from me than a few minutes. So that I might run into you in the grocery store, or get a glimpse of you circling the post office on your bicycle, or see someone walking by holding your magic flowers.”
Well, damn. I climb into the truck. “Fine. I will allow you the pleasure of my company.”
He floors it. I yell, grabbing his shoulder, and he slows to normal speed, laughing gleefully again.
“You’re on my last nerve.”
“Which one?” Without taking his eyes off the road, he starts poking me—my arm, ribs, thigh, stomach. I seize his hand in both of mine, waging a thumb war that I win by cheating. We drive to a gravel parking lot by Moonville Rail-Trail, a sixteen-mile path that spans from Zaleski to Mineral.
“Aw.” I grin at him. “You’re taking me for a bike ride.”
He climbs out of the truck and gets our bikes down. “Found your bike in the garden and gave it some more air. You’ve been going around on half-flat tires!”
I shrug.
“Need to keep up on that, lady.” He cuts into a figure eight. “Miles and I love biking at Lake Hope. I’ve got a tandem attachment I bring for long rides, otherwise he wants to give up at the first half-mile marker.”
“I got chased by a wild turkey at Lake Hope. Somebody on a horse saved me.”
“Yeah, they’ve got all those bridle trails, don’t they? I’d like to learn how to ride a horse.”
“Me, too. Take me along if you try it, will you? I want to make sure I’m better at it than you are.”
“Does it have to be a competition?” But he smiles, the hypocrite.
I nudge the kickstand. Straddle my seat. “You’re lucky my dress is a skort, or I’d be flashing my underwear on this thing.”
“I don’t think you know what ‘lucky’ means.” He flies past on his mountain bike, speeding ahead.
I pedal harder to catch up. “We’ll get ticks in here.”
“I’ll check you after.”
Moonville Rail-Trail is paved in most areas close to town, but bordered with heavy foliage. Loads of trees. About ten zillion bugs. “Ticks are sneaky. They can hide anywhere.”
“Then I’ll check you anywhere. This date gets better and better.” He pivots on his seat, squinting against a pocket of sunlight. “I don’t remember this concern when we were rolling in a field, by the way.”
I decide that I am going to make him eat my dust today, and also that I will hold him to his promise (“Alex, you have to check under my bra, ticks looove bras”). “So, we’re on a date?” I ask, rolling alongside him.
“Coming on awful strong there, Tempest.”
“Says the man who thinks he needs to know what the clouds over my house look like.”
“We’ve been on tons of dates, you just didn’t know it. Like the rehearsal dinner at Our Little Secret, when you refused to sit anywhere near me. That was a long-distance date. And the wedding was a date for sure, with all the dancing. Any time I’ve had you to myself? Honey, those were all top-secret dates. We had another one yesterday, did you know?”
I can’t remember what I did yesterday. “Was it good?”
“It was fantastic. I drove past while you were collecting your mail. Drive-by date.”
My mouth lifts into a smile. “What if somebody tried to flush a bag of cookies down the toilet in my store and I asked you to come plunge it? Would that be a date? Someone has done that before, by the way.”
