Page 70 of Here & There

“Oh, really?” Worry ripples over me for a moment as I wonder if it’s really about impressing someone. What if it’s about Nate not wanting to be the skinny kid who gets bullied on the school bus? I remember trying everything under the sun to get kids to leave me alone rather than dealing with confronting them. I consider telling Mac about the boy on the bus, but Nate might not want me to share that info with his father. I could see a protective Mac wanting to handle things for his son, too, which might destroy the fragile bond growing between the two of them.

I decide to leave it for now, unless it makes sense to tell him, or if I get new information. Besides, maybe thereissomeone Nate wants to impress. I stretch out on the lounge chair, handing Mac the bucket of screws as he needs it, mostly convinced as Mac tells me about what a good mood Nate was in this morning.

I don’t think I’m actually helping him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. I tell him about the one time I got a gym membership and on my first day accidentally snapped a resistance band across the weight room straight into a guy’s face. “It smacked him in the forehead,” I say. “But he was kind of a dudebro who’d been stealing people’s weights anyway. Two separate people high-fived me after.”

I get a self-satisfied grin when Mac’s shoulders silently shake as he screws in the next piece of grating.

After lunch, Mac leaves for the Dinghy, and only ten minutes after that, the courier arrives with Nate’s game.

He actually jumps up and down when he opens it, though he winces slightly at the movement. “You wanna play with me?” he asks.

It doesn’t seem like a pity invite. Even if it is, I’m so honored, I accept. I don’t know the first thing about video games, but we bring the player out to the living room so we can play on the big TV.

Turns out that in this game, I get to be this badass warrior woman with magical powers.

“This is a-MA-zing!” I exclaim after chopping off this weird slime monster’s head with a spinning triple-blade axe thing I bartered my pants for.

Nate looks impressed. “You never played with Avery when you were working with him?” he asks.

I shake my head. “My team did. I just did boring business stuff.”

“You missed out.”

“That’s what they said then. I didn’t believe them.” I do now. Just one more fun thing I missed while drowning in financial statements and employment records.

Nate and I waste the rest of the day glued to the screen, but I love every minute of it. By the time Mac comes home that evening, we’re in the middle of another chaotic scene: Nate and I in a sea of snack bowls all over the room, the two of us sweating and hooting as we conquer…I check the menu…damn, only the first level.

I swear I see Mac’s lips curl up at the corner as he kicks off his boots. He makes us mac ’n’ cheese so we can eat quickly and get back to it.

On Sunday morning, I have big plans to go on a hike with Chris and Lana, but Lana’s daughter has a fever, and Chris says she doesn’t trust herself not to get us lost. So we raincheck, and I spend the day with the MacGregor boys instead.

Honestly, I’m not the least bit upset. I just wanted to get out of their hair for a day.

Instead, after breakfast, the three of us head to the beach, Mac hauling his tub of scuba gear. Tink immediately lets loose, racing around trying and failing to catch crabs and seagulls. Nate’s too sore from yesterday’s gym trip to do much except moan every time he has to move, which suits me just fine. I set our folding chairs in the sand and hand my e-reader to Nate so he can read graphic novels and move as little as possible.

I always bring a backup book in case something’s wrong with the e-reader, but today, my paperback just isn’t holding my attention. I tell myself it’s because it’s such a beautiful day, but the truth is, the view over the top of my book is much more scintillating thanThe Duke’s Dungarees.My own personal duke has just stripped off his own pair of dungarees and now stands in the sand in his swim trunks. The sight should make me cold, seeing as it’s still only early May—Nate and I are in sweaters to protect against the cool sea breeze. Instead, I feel myself heating up as I watch Mac pull his T-shirt off with one hand. The man is magnificent with so few clothes on, especially as he bends over to pull his gear out of the tub. His legs are long and thick with muscle as he steps into his wetsuit. As he pulls it up over his narrow hips and wrestles his big arms into the sleeves, I bite my lip. He angles his arm backward to get the second sleeve on, giving me a view of his wide chest dusted with soft, dark hair, narrowing into a stomach that doesn’t have the kind of cut abs crafted with athletic diligence but is more of a solid wall of slightly padded muscle.

But once he has the suit on, he looks so ridiculous—especially as he starts flapping to the water with big, exaggerated steps in his flippers—that both Nate and I break out laughing.

We can’t see his glare through all the gear, but I sense it.

I asked him on the way down what he likes about scuba diving. He said “the silence,” which only makes me laugh harder now.

“Have you ever thought about going with him?” I ask Nate, who’s lowered the e-reader to his lap.

“Maybe,” Nate says, wincing as he shifts in his seat. “It seems kinda cool. What about you?”

“I dunno. I watched a documentary about this crew of divers who caught decompression sickness. They all died horrific deaths, and the one who lived couldn’t pee properly afterward.”

At Nate’s horrified expression, I reassure him it’s not deep enough here for that to happen to his dad. “I can’t account for how he pees, though,” I joke.

Nate blinks.

I clear my throat. “But I could be up for trying it sometime, if you are!” I’ve really sold it.

Nate mumbles an unconvincing “maybe” and returns to his book.

“Don’t forget the crab for dinner!” I holler as Mac sinks into the water.

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