Page 57 of The Disasters of Dating
I put my hand on top of his, which is gripping the edge of the seat. I’m rewarded for my action with little sparks of anticipation. “I promise. You’ll enjoy this hike.” I smile. “But if you’re really scared, you can hold my hand.”
His brows slowly rise. “Only if I’mreallyscared?”
I smile. “Maybe if you’re only alittlescared, too.”
He nods. “Noted.” Pushing open his door, he hurries around the car and opens mine. “Shall we, Miss Ashcombe?”
“We shall, Mr.—” I pause.
“Barrington,” he says, flashing me a grin.
“We shall, Mr. Barrington.” I scoot out of the car and grab my backpack from the back seat. It has sandwiches, chips, drinks, and cookies for dessert. After the Googles and I had our heart-to-heart, I had enough time to make the cookies from scratch. Some might argue that I didnothave time, as I still have not cleaned my bathroom or my closet. But neither of them are going back to New Hampshire in a few days.
Slinging my pack onto my shoulder, I motion to the small building ahead of us. “Do you want to stop in at the visitors’ center or start the hike?”
“Do we need to grab a map?” he asks, lowering his sunglasses onto the edge of his nose. While I love looking at his brown eyes, I have to admit that he looks very good in sunglasses. Maybe it’s the whole package of shorts, a t-shirt (my imagination was not far off on that one), and his sturdy tennis shoes. He looks like a model for the REI catalog. No one should look this good without airbrushing or computerized fixing.
“I think there are maps in that box right there. So we can head to the trail or go into the visitor center first.”
“Whatever you want to do,” he shrugs.
“Hey, man, I live here.” I put both hands on my hips. “You’re the visitor. So we do what you want to do.”
He squints at me. “I think I kind of live here, too. I’d consider me a citizen.”
“Ehhh,” I make the sound of a buzzer. “Nope. If you’re living in a hotel, you’re still technically a visitor. I’m sorry. But those are the rules.” I give my best game show host impersonation.
He raises a brow at me. “According to who?”
I scoff. “Uh, everybody.”
“Not according to me. Are you saying I’m a nobody?” He gives me a fake hurt look.
I shake my head. “No. Weren’t you listening? I said you’re a vis.it.or.” I say the last word long and slow, like I’m talking to someone who doesn’t understand English.
His lips purse like he’s mad, and I start to laugh.
“Fine.” I say, snatching a map out of the small wooden box fastened to the front door. “I’ll decide, but I don’t want any complaints out of you. You had your chance, and you gave it away.” I fling my arm to the side in a flourish.
“No complaints. Check.” He says. We head out onto the boardwalk that surrounds Silver Lake. It is the first part of our hike. I’m not sure you can technically call the boardwalk a hike. It’s flat and, well, a boardwalk.It’s spelled out in the name. It’s a walk. Even I, with my non-hiking knowledge, know that much.
The fields surrounding us are full of wildflowers and a mixture of green and tan grasses. Near the edge, on the other side of the lake, a moose walks slowly into the water. The boardwalk on that side is understandably empty.
“Oh my goodness, is that a moose?” Keaton looks out in wonder.
I put my hand on his arm as he walks to the edge of the boardwalk. “Yes, and we should stay far away from him. Moose are mean. Especially if they feel threatened.” The moose would have to swim across the lake to reach us, but I take the ‘I’d rather be far away than sorry’ attitude. “And they move much faster than you’d think by looking at their size.”
“Yeah, I know.” His eyes are fastened on the large, brown animal with a rack to match. “We have moose in New Hampshire. But it feels different here. I’ve only seen them walking on the side of the road. This is like we’re present in a nature picture.” He stands there a moment longer, watching the animal as it dips its head beneath the water and then jerks it up with a splash.
He turns and looks at me. “I once saw a moose kick a car.” He grimaces.
“A car?” I ask in surprise.
“Yeah, it honked at the car in front of it to get it moving. The moose didn’t appreciate the noise.”
I laugh. “Apparently, not.”
“Okay, this is an easy hike.” He frowns. “Which kind of disappoints me. I was rather looking forward to being scared.” He looks at my hand and wiggles his eyebrows several times. He’s a real Casanova.
