Page 27 of Time For Us

Daphne’s face brightens. “Can I go, Dad?”

Ethan, totally oblivious to what his daughter just revealed, gives her a squeeze. “Have fun, squirt.”

Daphne skitters away. Zoey and I watch her go, then make eye contact. We start giggling.

Ethan frowns at us. “What did I miss?”

Zoey leans up and kisses his cheek. “Nothing.”

A cheer goes up nearby as some poor soul hits the water in the dunk tank.

“Has she tried to get you into the tank?” I ask Ethan.

He grins. “Every year, but it’s never gonna happen. You native Idahoans are nuts. It’s like none of you realize it’s barely sixty degrees.”

Zoey laughs and snatches my popcorn. “Come on, the next sucker is climbing up. Let’s go watch.”

We make it to the back of the crowd in time to see a man climbing onto the metal seat. He’s wearing board shorts and a T-shirt and is currently smiling down at someone below him.

“Isn’t that…?” Zoey glances at me.

I nod, sucking in air that doesn’t seem to reach my lungs. “Yeah.”

The volunteer running the booth lifts a megaphone to his lips. “This is a good one, folks. Former varsity swim captain who brought home three state championships—Sun River’s very own Lucas Adler! You may have read about him recently…” There are good-natured boos from the crowd. “Now, now, none of that! Instead, let’s give him the welcome home he deserves!”

The boos shift to claps and cheers. Lucas takes it all in stride, shouting out challenges to those in line. The first three contenders are students and fail to hit the bull’s-eye with enough force. The fourth is a burly giant of a man wearing motorcycle leathers.

“Oh, he’s going down,” murmurs Zoey.

He does. Spectacularly. I laugh at the flash of shock on Lucas’s face right before the seat disappears under him. He comes up sputtering and grinning.

“You should get in line,” Zoey says, bumping my shoulder. “Weren’t you varsity softball?”

Lucas hops back onto the seat, laughing, and pulls off his sodden T-shirt. Goose bumps pebble his skin. There are more than a few catcalls and whistles from the crowd. From his ridged stomach to the flexing muscles of his chest, broad shoulders, and arms, Lucas shirtless is a visual feast.

My mouth dry, I look away.

“Quit drooling,” Ethan tells his wife, teasingly tapping her chin.

Zoey, ignoring him, gives me a wide-eyed look. I know exactly where her head is going, what advice she wants to give me.

Jumping into bed with Ethan worked out in the long run for her. Jumping into bed with Lucas? Despite the perking up of my libido, I can’t see any outcome but disaster. The all-encompassing kind.

“Cel-este! Cel-este!”

I look around in confusion as my name spreads in a chant through the crowd. A quick glance at Lucas gives me the source. He’s pointing at me, a wicked grin on his face, water still dripping from his chin. His finger turns and crooks, beckoning me.

“Don’t be a coward, Peapod!” he hollers.

Among the crowd are many familiar faces—including a fair number of our former classmates, who either settled here with their families or never left.

“Get him, Miller!” shouts a former quarterback.

“Dunk him!” shouts his wife, once the editor of our school paper, now the editor of our weekly town magazine.

“Want me to create a distraction?” murmurs Zoey out of the side of her mouth.

I sigh and shake my head, then walk forward to the cheers of the crowd. The line of people waiting for a chance to dunk Lucas applauds as I walk past them. At the front, Miranda Keller, the school principal, hands me three softballs.

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