“Which is why we should probably call it a night,” McKenna said.
“We should definitely call it something,” Nate said.
“I’m Bobbi.” Bobbi reached out her hand, but may as well have yelled, “You shall not pass!” in her best Gandalf the wizard impersonation for the way she and Oliver continued blocking their path off the bridge.
Nate shook Bobbi’s hand as McKenna flapped her hand between everyone. “Right. Manners. Sorry. Should have introduced you. Bobbi, Nate. Nate, Bobbi. This is Oliver, our adorable British moose who I must say looks especially dapper this evening. Didn’t he clean up nice, Bobbi? I think he looks great. As do you. You two are so cute together. You really are. Which is why Nate and I need to get out of here so you two can enjoy your evening. And oh, what a lovely evening it is, too. Have you noticed how lovely it is? It’s perfect. Such a lovely, beautiful, perfect—”
McKenna’s words snapped off the same time a crack sounded and a chunk of side rail fell into the river. The chunk of side rail Oliver had unfortunately leaned against in his efforts to step aside for them. Which meant the moose was making a big splash next.
Wow. Had this day turned into a circus or what?
“Oliver,” Bobbi yelled.
“Stay calm,” McKenna yelled.
“Oliver,” Bobbi yelled again, sounding even less calm. Which, Nate figured, must be why she decided to jump in the river too?
“Why did she do that?” Nate asked.
“He can’t swim,” McKenna yelled.
“So the chipmunk thinks she’s going to save the moose?” Nate shook his head. The chipmunk wasn’t even headed toward the moose. The current was carrying her puny little five-foot-nothing body toward the opposite riverbank while the moose continued sputtering and flailing, fighting to swim upstream.
Meanwhile McKenna kept rambling something about mole removals and sutures and favorite dresses that flatter and how somebody needed to “Do something! Do something! Do something!”
Why did he get the feeling that somebody was him?
With a sigh, Nate handed McKenna his messenger bag, then shrugged out of his shirt. “For the record,” he said, looking at McKenna. “You guys are all nuts.”
Then he jumped into the river.
MCKENNA
“Okay, so maybe I did sort of kiss him that last time on the bridge. But the two times before that? Never happened. I mean, yes, technically they happened, but they didn’thappenhappen. Everybody knows accidental armpit kisses and lip bumps don’t count. So really it was just the one kiss. Not even the one kiss, since that was basically the fight-or-flight response. So when you think about it, there were zero kisses. Are you thinking about it?Zero.”
NATE
“Five times. Maybe six? Honestly, I can’t keep track of how many times that woman tried making out with me.”
McKenna didn’t know which issue to focus on more. Bobbi screaming and dog-paddling to the wrong side of the river, or Oliver panicking and fighting Nate to the point that McKenna worried they were both going to drown.
“Oliver, relax,” McKenna shouted as she rushed off the bridge. “He’s trying to help you. And Bobbi, this is a river in Nebraska. You know whatever touched your leg wasn’t a crocodile or shark. You need to come back to this side. Oliver, seriously, stop fighting.”
This was one of those instances where being the size of a moose wasn’t really working in Oliver’s favor. Or Nate’s for that matter.
“Oliver, listen to me.” McKenna stumbled toward the bank of the river. “Let him help you.”
Oliver wasn’t listening. Splashes and splutters and screams continued as they wrestled each other closer to the shoreline.
“Put your feet down,” Nate growled when they’d gotten close enough to the riverbank that Oliver could just walk if he ever calmed down enough to stop fighting Nate.
McKenna watched Nate slip and slide over the rocks as he gave Oliver a shirtless piggyback ride the last dozen feet out of the river andonto shore. “Stop strangling me,” Nate’s voice wheezed. “We’re on dry land, you moron.”
When Oliver still wouldn’t let go, Nate collapsed to his knees then rolled onto his back hard enough to knock the wind out of Oliver and stun him into releasing his choke hold.
Oliver’s arms flopped to his sides as he lay there, frozen, gasping, like a proverbial fish out of water.
“He really is a moose,” Nate muttered on his hands and knees, massaging his throat, while McKenna knelt to make sure Oliver was still breathing.
