“Oh my word,” McKenna said with a groan. Why couldn’t she have just stumbled across a dead body on a bench? A short one. Would’ve been so much easier to deal with than this not-so-terrible-looking-slightly-taller-than-her-wacko-poet. “Are you giving me a hard time on purpose? Is this, like... I don’t know, your awkward version of flirting? Because I’m not interested if that’s what this is.”
“Says the woman who stole a kiss from my armpit.”
“I. Slipped. Stop trying to paint me as the crazy one here andgitbefore I spray your eyeglasses again,” she said, waving the Windex bottle in front of his nose. Okay, that did sound a little crazy. She tried softening her tone. “You don’t have to go away forever. Just for the next half hour or so. How about that bridge right over there?”
She aimed her thumb toward the narrow wooden bridge that she was pretty sure had been roped off with aCautionsign earlier in the spring. Issue must’ve been fixed though. No rope now. “Doesn’t that bridge look like a mighty fine place for a man to ponder as he crosses and disappears on the other side?”
“That bridge looks like it’s one small breeze from crumbling into the river. I don’t even know how it’s still standing.”
“See? That bridge already has you pondering all sorts of notebook-worthy thoughts, doesn’t it?”
He stared for a beat, then shook his head. After lifting his hat enough to clutch the front of his hair, he tried smoothing down his cowlick as he muttered something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like “bench bully,” and tromped away.
“If bybench bullyyou meanwonderful, albeit desperate woman who’s simply trying to help her baby sister have a perfect proposal experience, then yes. That’s exactly what I am. Thanks for the compliment.”
She started to pull out another paper towel when she saw his notebook on the ground. “Hey, Mr. Wet Blanket,” McKenna called after him. “You forgot your little ponder book. Wouldn’t want you leaving behind all these amazing ideas you never wrote down.”
She waited for him to turn around. He kept walking.
“Sir!” she yelled, because she still didn’t know his name and somehow they were back to the game where she yelled “Sir!” and he didn’t respond.
“Lord, help me, I don’t have time for this,” she muttered as she hurried after him, losing her sandals twice in the process. She’d just made it to the start of the bridge and spotted a rope dangling off to the side when she heard voices.
Familiar voices. Oliver and Bobbi’s voices to be exact.
No, no, no.What were they doing here already? She still needed to sprinkle rose petals around the bench and hang up lanterns in the tree, then hide before they saw her.
Shoot shoot shoot.Oliver was going to kill her. She’d promised everything would be perfect this time.
Side note—never make promises to your sister’s boyfriend either.
In McKenna’s defense, he wasn’t supposed to arrive until a little before sunset. In his defense, they probably should have nailed down what counts as “a little before sunset.”
Ahh!She needed to hide before Oliver saw her meddling. Strike that,helping.
Either way, she couldn’t let them see her. Bobbi would know right away something was up, and Oliver would probably take it as a sign this wasn’t the right time to propose.
McKenna couldn’t afford for him to wait again. Not with Bobbi leaving town tomorrow. Not with the clock ticking on a dream job in LA. An opportunity like that wasn’t going to stay available forever. This perfect proposal needed to happen. Tonight. Right now.
But where to hide?
MCKENNA
“Okay, I can possibly see how someone might interpret some of my behavior that evening as meddling. But you get where I was coming from, right? He should’ve given up the bench. Any gentleman in society would’ve given up the bench. Probably cleaned it first, too.
“You know, I can’t help but notice you’re still not writing any of this down. I’m a little concerned you’re going to be like one of those waiters who doesn’t write down my order and then ends up getting it all wrong. And this next part is super important because I need you to understand that everything that happened afterward wasn’t my fault. And Idefinitelydidn’t kiss him.”
NATE
“That woman wasn’t going to leave me alone until she kissed me. That’s all there was to it.”
Nate switched his playlist from classical to a mix from the sixties. It would be his luck to pull over and try relieving his headache at a quiet spot a loopy lady would wander upon.
He should’ve kept driving. Except twice he’d almost nodded off. And that was before the headache hit. But what did he expect after not sleeping well these past few weeks, then dealing with all the emotions of the funeral service today?
Nate leaned forward, elbows digging into the rotting rail of the bridge. He still couldn’t believe it. His mentor, gone. A man who’d been more of a father figure to him than his own father had ever been.
He started to reach for his pocket, then remembered the letter was inside his carry-on. He’d read it later. He didn’t have the emotional stamina right now to read the final words he’d ever receive from the greatest man he’d ever known.
