Page 42 of Meeting Mr. Adorkable
“Just keep going.”
“But—”
“There’re no buts. Do you want me to have to bail you out of jail? Calling out somebody’s mutt, and mocking the sacred image of the big man, will either get you thrown in the slammer or run out of town.”
With the plaster Jakes marking the highlight of the parade, and its finale, the crowds were shifting and thinning out as people headed toward the park to picnic with family and friends, or visit the food trucks that always set up for Jake’s Day.
“The Jake Collier Memorial Park,” Lucian said as the park gates came into view. “This is where the Jake Collier Museum is, isn’t it? I visited, soon after I got here. They have a pair of his boots on display. Did you know that? Honestly, I’m surprised they don’t have the man himself stuffed and mounted on the wall.”
Arlo looked down into eyes shining with mischief. He dipped his head, so his lips were just a kiss away from Lucian’s ear.
“Don’t let anybody hear you say that, not if you want to get out of here alive.”
Lucian chuckled. “Will I be sacrificed on a stone altar, or hit by a righteous thunderbolt?”
“Man, you’re going to get yourself in trouble one of these days.”
“Oh, I think I already am,” Lucian said, smiling, as he eased his way through the crowds.
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
“Hey, you two, come join us — Francie and her mom have cooked enough to feed the entire state.”
Arlo swung around as a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. Hank held up a chicken drumstick with the other. “But we’ve got some cheese,” he added, looking at Lucian.
Arlo waved at the Mason family gathering, a few yards away. But he didn’t move.
“Hey, Hank, that’s good of you, but I told Francine we wouldn’t be joining you. This is Lucian’s first Jake’s Day, so I’m introducing him to the town’s best tradition.”
Hank smiled but said nothing as his eyes narrowed, and his chin lifted. It was so slight, few would notice, but Arlo did; his stomach tightened. Hank might as well have shouted out bullshit. It was the same look he always got every time he said something Hank didn’t believe. His friend had done it since they were kids, and he was still doing it.
“Sure you are,” Hank said with a smile, before he switched his attention to Lucian, who hovered at Arlo’s side. “You’re in good hands with Arlo. Safe hands.”
“Safe?” Lucian’s head twisted from side to side as he scanned the laughing, good natured scene spread out around them. “It doesn’t look dangerous — although some of the picnic foods I can see look scary— Oh, I’m sorry, it’s my mum,” he said as his cell rang. “I have to answer otherwise she’ll send a search party out from the UK. Nice to meet you again, Hank.” Lucian stepped away.
“What’s going on?” Hank kept his voice low. “Francine told me you’d turned down the invite to spend the day with us.” He glanced toward Lucian, a few steps away and concentrating on his call.
“Nothing’s going on.” Hank narrowed his eyes again, and Arlo let go of an exasperated sign. “Look, we’re just friends, Okay?”
Hank answered with a quiet laugh.
“Whatever you say, Arlo, whatever you say.”
“It is what I say, so don’t—”
“Sorry about that,” Lucian said, rejoining them, smiling as he looked from Arlo to Hank, and back again.
“I’ll be in touch, Arlo.” Hank waved his goodbye as he left.
“Oh, look, they’re beckoning us over. Including that, um, man with the pudding bowl haircut and wearing… a poncho? I think Francine’s arm will come off if she waves any harder. Maybe we should—”
“No. let’s go.”
“But—”
Away from the main group of picnickers, the crowds were less dense. Lucian trailed silently behind him.
“I’m sorry about that.” Arlo golf balled his cheeks. “I probably seemed like a jerk, but we’d have been trapped with them for the rest of the day.”
