Million Dollar Date

by Susan Hatler

  “Might be easier to read facing the right side up.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered, my cheeks heating. What was wrong with me? The guy was scrambling my brain.

  “Might I ask what time you’d be free to go on a date with me?” he asked, lowering his head so I could no longer avoid his gaze.

  “Yes, clock,” I said, my finger pointing to it in victory. “I don’t get off until seven and I would never expect you to wait around. Sorry, can’t go because it’s not seven yet and I’m not off until seven,” I said, chastising myself internally for not keeping it cool. “So, yeah, I can’t.”

  “I’ll cover for you,” Krista hollered from across the aisle.

  I sent her a look and she winked. I’d never regretted hiring my friend to work here until now. “No, I need to shut down and lock up.”

  She grinned. “I can close up shop, no problem.”

  “You’re not on duty today,” I said, shaking my head. “This is my shift and I’m supposed to be here until seven and, well, I just can’t. Sorry. Because it’s not seven,” I said, pointing at the wall clock behind me that had paw print hands.

  Cooper glanced at the clock and straightened. “It’s 6:53.”

  “Not seven,” I said, cringing at the 7-minute hole in my argument.

  “So let me get this straight,” he said, speaking slowly. “You can’t go on a date with me because you’re following a rule?”

  A hint of a smile played at his lips despite how hard I could see him trying to hold it back. I bit my lip and fidgeted with the hem of my shirt.

  His eyes narrowed. “You, Abigail Apple, are following a rule?”

  I raised a shoulder. “Um, yes?”

  “Sweetie, we need a discussion,” Hannah said, coming up behind me. She slipped her arm through mine, gave Cooper a nose wrinkle, and held a finger up. Then she swung me around to do an about face and dragged me away. “She’ll be right back.”

  She tugged me into my office at the back of the store and Krista followed in after, closing the door behind her.

  Hannah crossed her arms. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “What? I’m at work.”

  “I’ve covered for you plenty of times,” Krista said, rolling her eyes. “I even closed up for you that time you ditched out early because Shapely Shoes in the Gold Rush Center was having that buy one get one half off sale.”

  Hannah nodded. “Need we go on?”

  “I’m not really into him,” I said, throwing my hands up in the air. “I mean, he and I argued through our first date and it was awful. I only went on a second date with him because he is heading the committee that is allotting a substantial donation to a local charity and I want him to vote for Reagan’s Rescue at the Barn so she doesn’t have to shut down.”

  Hannah and Krista turned to face one another and then burst out laughing. Okay. . . Not the reaction I’d expected.

  I crossed my arms. “What’s so funny?”

  Krista wiped a tear from her cheek. “Abigail, honey, it is so obvious that you like him, like really, really like him,” she said, while she continued laughing so severely she started hiccupping. “But you’re obviously in denial about that little fact.”

  “I am not,” I protested.

  “Yeah, you’re completely gaga for him,” Hannah added. “You should’ve seen your face when he walked into the store. Your eyes went wider than when you saw that kitten wearing a tutu at lunch last week.”

  Krista gulped in a giant breath and nodded. “When you two were talking together your cheeks turned red and you kept staring at your shoes. You only get nervous like that when you really like someone.”

  Hannah reached over and squeezed my elbow. “You also said his name in your sleep after he dropped you off. Several times.”

  My eyes bulged. “What?”

  Hannah laughed. “Okay, I just threw that last part in for fun. Totally kidding,” she said, stifling another giggle. “But, seriously, stop being lame. You like him. We all know it, so you may as well admit it to yourself. Now, Krista has things under control here. Get lost.”

  I thrust my hands to my hips. “You’re forcing me to leave?”

  “Think of it as a friendly nudge.” She shooed me out the office door and back into the store, even as I tried to protest.

  “Abigail’s ready now,” Hannah announced, pushing me toward the counter as I tried to sneak around her to duck back inside my office. “Aren’t you, sweetie?”

  I was about to make another excuse why I couldn’t go on a date with Cooper when I looked over at him and found my words entirely gone. One look into his eyes and I realized my friends were right: I did like him.

  Four words I never thought I’d think just a week earlier when he pulled me over. Or when he refused to give me a warning and gave me a ticket instead. Or when he said he liked documentaries. Or when he admitted he put the toilet paper over instead of under. Or, worst of all, when he said he was voting for the homeless shelter instead of Reagan’s Rescue at the Barn.

  But I liked him.

  I liked Officer Hill.

  I liked RoboCop.

  And I wanted to go on another date with him. A real one. Immediately, this very second if not sooner, which scared me big time.

  “Okay, I’m ready,” I said, stepping toward Cooper, even though I was in no way ready for these feelings that I couldn’t deny any longer.

  Chapter Six

  Well, my dreams of a romantic, scenic, rom-com-esque date died a quick death when Cooper parked his car in front of a chain link fence half-covered in weeds and half-covered in entangled pieces of trash. If I squinted, then the blue plastic bag flapping in the wind kind of looked like waves by a major stretch of imagination. Pretend waves could be romantic, right?

  A rust-covered lock glared at me from where it hung on a thick chain, which was looped five times over to hold the gate together—blocking off a dirt road that led to an old water tower. A “no trespassing” sign on that gate—faded from years in the sun—tilted so far I expected each gust of wind to send it crashing onto the dusty ground. The only thing missing was the eerie call of a vulture in this abandoned area of town. And perhaps a tumbleweed or two.

  Even Banana cowered from the window at the desolate sight in front of us.

  “Please tell me we’re lost.” My desperate tone became more of a squeak. “That we’re actually on our way to an intimate dinner and you got lost. That’s what’s really happened. Right?”

  He shook his head. “Nope.”

  “Maybe you took a wrong turn on our way to a llama petting zoo and got lost?” I rolled down my window and looked around hopefully. “Surely there’s a llama farm around here somewhere. Or, you put in the wrong address for a helicopter ride over Sacramento and that’s the reason we are sitting in an empty lot with a gate in front of an old water tower.”

  “Wrong again.” He smiled over at me and patted me on the shoulder.

  “I can turn on my GPS,” I offered, still holding onto the tiny bit of hope I clung to.

  “Relax, Abigail.” He laughed and turned off the ignition, got out of his car, and walked around to the passenger side door.

  “Banana, if we die today . . .” I pulled him close, feeling partially responsible for this predicament since I was the one who had feelings for Cooper and not Banana. “Please know that you were the love of my life, little friend.”

  Cooper stood outside my door.

  “And, Banana, I’ve never seen anyone wear a tie better than you,” I added quickly, giving him a kiss on the top of his head and hoping this wasn’t the last compliment I’d give my baby.

  Cooper pulled my door open and offered his hand, but I hesitated. “I promise it will be worth it,” he said. “Don’t judge a book by its cover.”

  I squinted down the dirt road past the gate. Shadows from the tall, wild grasses stretched across the path as the sun sank lower toward the horizon.

  “Is there a library down there?” I asked, f
eeling momentarily hopeful. “With a little reading area surrounded by trees and shrubs and covered in twinkling lights like some sort of secret garden where you will read me poetry and I will eat strawberries and sip champagne?”

  He stared in the direction where I was looking and then drummed his fingers along the top of the car. “I should have said don’t judge a water tower by its rusted, tetanus lock,” he said, stretching his hand closer. “Just trust me.”

  I accepted his hand and tucked Banana into my purse. Here went nothing.

  “How do you have keys to this clearly abandoned place?” I asked as we walked toward the gate together.

  I glanced over at Cooper when he didn’t answer. Maybe he hadn’t heard me.

  “Hello?” I waved a hand in front of him. “Do you know the owner of this land, or something? Is that how you came by the keys for the gate?”

  The only sound that came in response was the crunch of our shoes against the gravel. Finally, he smiled over at me sheepishly. “I don’t have the keys.”

  It took a moment for his words to sink in. “Wait, what? Then how will we . . .?”

  He grinned. I grabbed his arm and held him still, staring with wider eyes than I’d ever stared with in my entire life.

  “Cooper,” I said, my voice incredulous. “Are you telling me that you’re about to . . .,” I paused and held both of my arms up for dramatic effect, “. . . break the law? Are you encouraging me to break that law as well?”

  “I wouldn’t put it that way,” he said, and turned to walk along the chain link fence past the gate with the rusted lock. I followed after him with Banana, wondering if I should pinch myself just to make sure this wasn’t a dream.

  “As a law abiding, dutiful citizen, I am going to have to report you, Officer,” I called after him, wanting to squeal with glee at the thought of someone writing him a ticket.

  Maybe Cooper had a twin brother. That was the only rational explanation. Cooper must be tied up somewhere and this must be Tucker or Sawyer or Peter Hill. He was the bad boy twin.

  “A citizen’s arrest,” I sang, stepping through the weeds and thoroughly enjoying the beginning of this date. “I will conduct a citizen’s arrest on you, Officer. Please do not resist. I’m very strong and very fast.”

  He shook his head and chuckled as he stopped and waited for me.

  “Would you mind if I borrowed your handcuffs for my citizen’s arrest?” I asked, politely. “Are they your size? A one size fits all?”

  “You are too much,” he said, lifting up a loose section of the chain link fence and gesturing for me to duck under.

  I shrugged. “Not like I have my own handcuffs. I’m a pet store manager, after all. One who sneaks off early before the end of her workday when coerced.”

  “Such a rebel,” he said, as I wiggled through the hole in the fence and then turned to wait for him.

  “I’m warning you, Officer. Run and I will sic Banana on you,” I continued, not able to stop from grinning from ear to ear. “He is a vicious attack dog, despite all appearances.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, dropping the fence back into place after he crawled through. Then he scratched behind Banana’s ear. Banana promptly licked his pinky, tail wagging merrily. “Yeah, vicious is most certainly the word I would use to describe Banana.”

  I smiled and Cooper grinned back at me. He placed his arm around my shoulder and led me toward the water tower. With his strong arm around me, the water tower suddenly didn’t look so desolate and decrepit. Being wrapped in his embrace made it look beautiful bathed in the late afternoon sun. Suddenly, I could hear birds singing out and the smell of wildflowers on the soft, silky breeze. The old paint on the water tower somehow seemed to shimmer with Cooper’s arm around me and the rust no longer looked boring.

  Okay, I definitely liked Cooper. A lot.

  “I’ll take Banana,” he said when we reached the ladder at the base of the tower.

  I stared up at the long climb. “We’re going up there?”

  “That’s the idea.”

  I gaped up at him. “Sure you don’t want to go get pizza instead? Or read police code books or something?”

  He raised a mischievous eyebrow. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you’re thinking with your head right now.”

  “Logic is definitely needed right now.” I gazed back up at how high the ledge of the water tower sat at the top of the ladder. “Maybe logic is ruling my brain because I don’t want to fall and bust my head open on our third date.”

  He laughed. “You’ll be fine.”

  In the end it only took a few girlish squeals and a couple bursts of “I’m going to die,” before I safely reached the top. Feeling steady on the ledge, I went to kiss it before realizing how dirty it must be. I settled on closing my eyes and leaning against the water tower with a contented sigh. Cooper climbed up after me and crawled my way until he was seated beside me. I felt his shoulder against mine and he set his hand on my leg.

  “Open your eyes.”

  “No way,” I said, shaking my head profusely. That was a firm no, Captain. A solid thanks, but no thanks. A not in a million years, no way José, and an over my dead body.

  “Abigail . . .” Cooper traced his thumb in small, comforting circles on my leg. “Open your eyes and take in the view.”

  Cracking just one eye open, I studied him through the narrow slit. He nodded toward the edge of the railing. Taking a deep inhale and letting a shaky exhale out, I opened both my eyes. Oh, wow.

  The view of Sacramento spread out before us, over the river with its golden glints shining from the last rays of sunlight. Brilliant hues of pink and orange and yellow bathed the big, wide sky that seemed to stretch on forever. And there was nobody around but us. To think I’d hoped we were going to a library. . .

  “This place is amazing.” My voice was nearly a whisper. I turned to Cooper and found him smiling in the same way I was. But Cooper wasn’t admiring the view from the water tower. He was looking at me. We stared into each other’s eyes and I, too, somehow forgot about the stunning view just a head’s turn away. “How did you find this place?”

  He turned away, leaning his head back against the water tower as he looked out over the river. “I haven’t been here in years,” he said, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. “I used to come here all of the time as a kid, though.”

  The image of Cooper as a child made me smile. “How many tickets did you give the neighborhood kids for riding their tricycles too fast? I’ll bet you were great at Simon Says.”

  Cooper laughed, but there was a weight in his laughter I couldn’t read. It wasn’t carefree and his smile didn’t reach his eyes. Then he looked down. “I don’t think you would have recognized me back when I was a kid. I was very different than I am now.”

  My eyebrows came together. “How so?”

  He opened his mouth as if about to say something, but then he hesitated and then laughed, shaking his head.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Tell me.” I elbowed him playfully in the side, jostling Banana from his nap on Cooper’s lap. “Come on,” I insisted. “I know you were going to say something, so just spit it out.”

  He stared up at the top of the water tower. “Back then . . . I was actually more like you.”

  “Me?” I pointed to my chest because I just couldn’t believe it. Cooper used to be like me?

  “I know,” he said, watching as Banana circled around to find another comfy spot. “It’s hard to believe, but it’s true. I lived life to the fullest. I was adventurous and reckless—”

  “Hey.”

  “And wild—”

  “Hey.”

  “And crazy.”

  “I’m not crazy.”

  Cooper looked me straight in the eye and raised his eyebrow. “Shall we pull up your presentation again and your title that’s a novel long?”

  Huh. He made a fair point.

  “Fi
ne,” I mumbled. “There’s nothing wrong with a little crazy.”

  “Like I said,” he continued. “I was crazy, too. But I’m, well, I’m different now.”

  Again I sensed that invisible weight that seemed to drag down his head and slump his shoulders and shadow his soul. He fidgeted with a stray thread on a button of his perfectly pressed (as always) shirt. I doubt he’d known it was there when he left his house or he would have trimmed it with his tiny scissors that were probably labeled “Thread Trimming Scissors” from his drawer labeled “Various Scissors.” Just a wild guess.

  “Abigail,” he said after a moment of silence. “I know we had a bit of a rocky start and I know how I can come across sometimes. At times, I can appear to be a little . . . ”

  “Rigid,” he said, right as I said, “robotic.”

  He smiled. “Yes, maybe a bit robotic.”

  “A bit,” I said with a smile of my own. I was afraid to admit that maybe, just maybe I had come to like everything about him including his robot side. Every bit of him was Cooper and I seemed to be growing kind of attached to him.

  He watched my reaction as he moved his hand closer to mine. Our fingers interlaced and I liked the feeling of it. I liked it very much.

  “I brought you here because I wanted you to see,” he said, pausing for a moment and I could sense him trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to say. “Because I want you to see more of me than just the robotic side.”

  I frowned, slightly confused by what he meant. “More of you?”

  He shifted uncomfortably and then squeezed my hand. “Just give me a little bit of time to explain, okay?”

  Nodding, I rested my head on his shoulder and looked back out over the scenic view that stretched out below.

  His chest rose as he sucked in a deep breath. “In high school, I had a friend who was like a brother to me, Harrison James. This was our spot, this water tower.”

  “Oh. . .” I squeezed his hand, not wanting to interrupt him.

  He shifted again and was quiet, while I tried to wait as patiently as I could. I understood that this was difficult for him, opening up. I wasn’t sure what he wanted to tell me, but I was sure I wanted to listen. Finally, after another deep breath that I felt the rise and fall of against my cheek, he continued.