Because that’s exactly what he was.
A fool who was going to let his heart get smashed to smithereens if he didn’t watch it.
The lights were so bright. So hot. McKenna swiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. Stole a glance at Nate. Why wasn’t he sweating?
“I’ll take Poetry Ponderers for a thousand,” Nate said to Alex Trebek.
McKenna clutched the buzzer in her sweaty palm. Why was every single category about poetry?
“Daily double,” said Alex.
Again?How many daily doubles were there? And how did Nate keep finding them?
“This poet once lamented about having too many elbows to scrub,” Alex said.
Too many elbows to scrub? McKenna pressed her buzzer. “I know this one,” she yelled, pressing her buzzer harder. Why wasn’t her buzzer working?
“Shush,” said Alex, his finger suddenly pressing against her lips.
“But I know the answer,” she murmured against his finger.
“Who is Shel Silverstein?” said Nate.
“Correct,” said Alex Trebek as he stepped back to his usual spot.
“Something’s wrong with my buzzer,” McKenna said to Alex. “I knew that one.”
“Let me see your buzzer,” Nate said. But when she handed it to him, they suddenly weren’t on the show anymore. They were standing on the broken bridge in Nebraska.
And Nate was now wearing a towel, holding the ring instead of the buzzer. “I need that back,” McKenna told him.
When Nate started to reach for her, McKenna thought he was going to shush her again. It wasn’t until his nose brushed against her nose that she realized he was aiming to kiss her.
What?McKenna’s eyes popped open.
She focused on the patch of vine-decorated wallpaper glowing in the pale moonlight sneaking in through the open curtains of her window. The shadowed bulk of the dresser. The whirring motion of the ceiling fan. The sound of the ice maker churning in the kitchen next to her room.
Why was her heart pounding?
Because she’d just been dreaming aboutJeopardy!Anybody’s heart would be pounding if they’d just been a contestant onJeopardy!, right?
Had nothing to do with the part about Nate nearly kissing her. Or seeing him in a towel again in her dreams. Nope. It was definitely theJeopardy!part that had her flustered.
Still caught up in the dream, it took a moment to realize her phone was vibrating on the nightstand. McKenna leaned up on one elbow. Who on earth would be calling her in the middle of the night? She fumbled for her phone on the nightstand and tapped the screen when she read the caller ID.
“Bobbi? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” They’d talked just a few days ago. Why would she be calling now?
“I’m fine, but why do you sound funny again?”
“I don’t sound funny.”
“You sound out of breath.”
McKenna unplugged her phone from the charger, turned on the lamp, then scooted up so she could lean against the headrest of the bed. “It’s three a.m. Everybody sounds funny and out of breath at three a.m.”
“How is it three a.m.? I thought I was seven hours ahead of you.”
“You are seven hours ahead of me.”
