Page 49 of Indigo Off the Grid
“Because it’s you!”
“What about me?”
“Stop fishing. You know I don’t want to say no to you. I know I’m supposed to, because we’re ‘just friends’ or whatever, but I don’twantto.” I snuggle into his off-limits side, proving my point. “But I can’t say no when Iwantto say no. That’s the problem.”
He’s quiet for a minute, still casually running his thumb up and down my arm like he’s not trying to drive me out of my mind. “Hmm," he says as he deliberates, and the deep sound sends a happy vibration through me. "It’s getting late and you have to be up early. I should take you home.”
I want to whimper and complain, but he’s right. That would be the responsible thing to do. Tonight was a mess and it will show all over my face tomorrow if I don’t get enough sleep. But I want to stay here by this campfire until it burns down to embers, and Joe declares his love for me and his willingness to change both of our lives around to be together. No big deal.
Well, he nailed it. I don’t want to go home, but I don’t want to say no. I end up making a sound like, “Nehhhhh…” while Joe chuckles beside me.
“I should take you home,” he emphasizes, then whispers, “You’ve got this, Fox. Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee,” like I’m in a boxing ring and he’s in my corner.
“N-no?”
“Louder, and like you mean it. You do not want to leave this very relaxing campfire, or me.” He’s an excellent coach, if a tad arrogant.
“No!” I shout with a laugh. This is so ridiculous.
“Atta girl.” He cuffs my chin with his knuckles. “That was… sexy, somehow.”
Hello, Coach Pratt.I’m plenty warm now. My toes are toasting by the fire, Joe feels like a heater against my side, and now I’m blushing. And of course I can say no in a hypothetical situation involving a guy who is kind and level headed and probably rescues kittens in his spare time. But saying no to my mother? The thought makes me want to find another state to hide in.
“I’m going to need you to act more like my mother,” I tell him.
“Pass.”
“But you’re not as scary as my mom.”
He has that crease between his eyebrows when he says, “You shouldn’t be afraid of your mother.”
“Easy for you to say. Your mom is an angel, but you’ve met my mother. Half of California is afraid of her.”
He exhales and I think he’s deciding whether he should push this. He surprises me by batting his eyelashes and saying, “Indigo, I dislike that pink outfit. Go change into the black” — he gestures to my legs — “thingies.”
His impersonation is spot on and I can’t stop my laugh. That makes it easy to say, “No, Mom. I prefer the pinkthingies.”
I swear I hear him mutter “me too” under his breath before he jumps right into another scenario: “I’ll have the salad with oil and vinegar on the side. Same for my daughter, but without oil.” Now my “mother” sounds vaguely Irish. “A moment on the lips, lass.”
Oh, no she didn’t.“No oil or vinegar!” I proclaim loudly. I stand and announce, “I’ll have the ranch dressing!” like it’s the main platform of my presidential campaign. I should have it embroidered on hats. Ranch dressing makes me feel patriotic. “...on the side,” I say under my breath as I sit back down, like he won’t catch it.
“Oh, so close!” He laughs and pulls me into him. “Better luck next time, Fox.”
We go on like that until the fire burns down and we’re both hiding yawns. When we load everything into the Bronco aroundmidnight I feel more prepared than ever to face Kara Fox, and more sure than I’ve ever been that I want to leave that whole life behind.
Chapter 16
My mother is leaning against The Hulk, arms folded, in the dark parking lot of Nizhóní like she’s been waiting since I left. “Where have you been?”
“How long have you been here?” My hackles are up. I feel like I got caught sneaking into the house after curfew. Joe circles around the back of his Bronco to stand next to me, and I appreciate the mountain of his presence by my side.
“Long enough.” She pivots her ire in Joe’s direction, “You think you can just take off with my daughter?”
Joe crosses his arms and stands firm. “She’s an adult. She doesn’t need your permission, and neither do I,” he says calmly. “But I’d like an answer to Indie’s question. How long have you been sitting out here? This is kind of weird.”
I am in awe of this man.How does he do that so easily? How does he pull off charming and cheeky and still stand up for himself?He’s poking the mama bear with a sharp stick. I’m torn between running away and standing between my mother and Joe to save him.
My mother’s nostrils flare. She deflects the question again with, “I’m sorry, who are you?” and I hate the tone she’s taking. She’s talking to him the same way she talks to the crew who takes care ofher pool. She doesn’t talk to them often, but I’ve heard it before and it was embarrassing.
