Dates And Other Nuts

by Lori Copeland

  “Don’t you just love it?” she’d enthused.

  Actually, he didn’t. He didn’t even like it. He’d never been a park kind of guy. Baseball, football, okay. But more as a spectator than a participant. He supposed he’d spent too much time in the cockpit of a plane to enjoy strolling in the park.

  But Celia was obviously an outdoors fiend. Flinging her arms wide, she drew a deep, cleansing breath, expanding her 34A to a 38C. An impressive feat.

  “Wouldn’t you rather take a drive?” he suggested.

  “No. Come on, spoilsport. I’ll bet you can use the exercise. Nothing like fresh air to make a body feel good.”

  Well, she was a fine example of a good body.

  Celia helped him get the blades on and hauled him to his feet. He was wobbly, but she was encouraging.

  “Careful—”

  His feet shot out from under him, arms flailing, and he slammed head-on into a tree trunk.

  Celia burst into laughter, then belatedly covered her mouth with both hands.

  His ears were ringing and he shook his head to clear it, peering up at her through a fog.

  “Come on, now,” she said. “Concentrate, Craigee. You can do it.”

  Getting back on his feet, he managed to remain upright all of thirty seconds before his feet went into a frenzied scissors kick and he was down again.

  “If you can walk, you can in-line-skate,” Celia said.

  At this point, he wasn’t sure he could even walk.

  Grasping his arm, she hauled him up again. By this time, they’d attracted a crowd, though people were being circumspect and watching from a distance.

  “Come on,” she encouraged. “Hang on to me.”

  Practically crawling up her leg, Craig tried to steady himself. It was a matter of pride now.

  Holding on to Celia, he managed to move both feet ahead about six inches before they started leaving him. Arms frantically whipping the air, he went down again; this time taking her with him.

  She laughed and together they crawled upright again. Before he knew it, he was hurtling downhill, forty, then fifty miles an hour and picking up speed. Wind stung his eyes and he wondered which was worse—blading this fast anticipating the fall, or the fall itself, for sure as hell he was going down again.

  “Yes!” Celia cried out. “That’s it! Now you’re getting the hang of it!”

  He was! And it actually felt good!

  Oh, God. He was going too fast. His feet were getting ahead of him—

  The next thing he knew, he’d bulldozed two mature trees with his face.

  When he’d opened his eyes this time, he was strapped to a gurney in the hospital emergency room. It felt as if every bone in his body was shattered.

  “Lie still, Mr. Stevens,” the doctor ordered.

  He groaned. “How many broken ribs?” He’d be off work for weeks.

  “You were lucky. A few bruises and abrasions. That eye’s going to be a shiner by morning,” she told him.

  “Thanks.” He closed his eyes.

  “I’ll write you a prescription for painkillers and you can go home.”

  Wishing he was already home so he didn’t have to move, Craig made a vow. No more wheels.

  “I decided,” he ended his story, “that if God wanted wheels on my feet, he’d have put them there personally.”

  “Tough break.” Scotty chuckled.

  Wiping off the counter, Ginny suddenly stopped and waved at someone behind them. “Temple’s here.”

  “I can see that,” Craig mumbled.

  “She hates exercise.”

  Craig stared at his soda broodingly. It was now close to a week since Temple had spoken to him in anything other than monosyllables, and then only when she brought coffee to the cockpit. He knew why she was avoiding him. She thought she had violated some sacred code that night in Houston. Hell, she hadn’t even acknowledged that the incident had happened. But she couldn’t avoid him forever. Eventually, they’d have to talk about it.

  CRAIG AND SCOTTY were going through the preflight checklist when Temple brought their coffee. She was wearing her hair in a French roll, her cap tilted pertly over her right eyebrow, and she smelled of vanilla. She looked rested, prettier than ever, or was he was just looking closer than usual?

  “Hi, guys,” she said cheerfully.

  “Hello.” Scotty reached for his flight bag. “Got a little something for you. From me and the captain.”

  “For me? Why?”

  “Because you’re so special,” Scotty said.

  “Gee, thanks.” She laughed warily. “I didn’t know you cared.”

  Avoiding Craig’s gaze, she opened the little box Scotty handed her. It was a bar pin with the inscription O. MISS in block letters.

  “What’s this?”

  Scotty looked puzzled. “That’s your name, isn’t it? O. Miss, can you bring me more coffee? O. Miss, would you dispose of my barf bag, please?’ ”

  Temple grinned. “Why, you’re right. Thank you. I shall wear this with pride.”

  She pinned it on her breast pocket in place of her official name tag.

  Craig dropped his clipboard in a side pocket with a decided thump. “Scotty, can you find something to occupy yourself for a couple of minutes? I’d like a word with Temple.”

  “Talk away, I won’t listen.” He grinned, his eyebrows arched in an innocent look.

  “In private, Scotty.”

  “’Scuse me. Just had a nature call.”

  Temple stepped aside as Scotty squeezed past her, shutting the cockpit door behind him.

  She looked at Craig apprehensively. “What’s going on?”

  He tossed his sunglasses on the console. “That’s what I want to find out.”

  “Craig—”

  “Sit down.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to sit—”

  “Sit down, Temple.”

  The tight anger in his voice was very unusual. She sat.

  “If it’s about Nancy, I had no idea—”

  “It has nothing to do with Nancy.”

  She sat for a moment, thinking.

  “It’s about us,” he said. “You and me. We can’t avoid each other forever.”

  He was right. They couldn’t avoid each other forever, although she had been working at it. She wasn’t ready to talk about what had happened in Houston.

  When he didn’t go on, she finally looked up at him.

  His voice was firm, final. “Dinner. Tonight, seven o‘clock. O’Kief’s.”

  Well, whatever she’d expected, this wasn’t it. She hesitated, then stood.

  His gaze locked with hers. “Don’t stand me up.”

  Not trusting her voice, she nodded, then left the cockpit.

  Scotty was leaning against the bulkhead. “Everything okay?”

  “Just ducky,” she said. Throughout the flight, Temple was all thumbs. She delivered wrong beverages, stepped on an elderly woman’s foot and dropped a full pot of coffee in the galley. The flight seemed endless.

  After checking out that afternoon, she walked to her truck, stopping short when she saw Craig’s Lincoln sitting perfectly between the lines of his parking space.

  Tears smarted her eyes.

  See. Things have changed between us. The things I loved most about our relationship. The comfortableness, the trust—the lane sharking. A sob caught in her throat. You’ve done it now, Burney. It’s gone. All gone.

  O’KIEF’S WAS QUIET for a weeknight. Craig and Temple followed the waiter to a booth in the corner well away from the noisy kitchen. Tension was almost palpable as they scanned the menu and placed their orders. When the waiter left, Craig released an audible breath. Resting his forearms on the table, he leaned forward and let his gaze roam over her face. Temple studied him in return. She didn’t want to recognize how good he looked to her in the blue oxford shirt and navy blazer. She was having enough trouble thinking straight.

  “I thought you’d at least call me,” he said.

  Not
trusting her voice, Temple stared at her water glass.

  “Okay, let’s have it,” he said. “What’s bothering you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Something’s wrong,” he insisted. “I’m not blind. You’ve barely said three words to me all week that weren’t work-related.”

  “Nonsense. It’s...your imagination.”

  “Is it my imagination that you’ve stopped lane-sharking that piece of junk you drive? You’ve parked right for the past week.”

  “I haven’t!” Glancing worriedly around, she lowered her voice. “You’re the one who started parking right, not me.”

  “I’m parking right because you’re parking right!”

  “Craig, if I have been parking right, it’s certainly been unintentional.”

  “I don’t think so. I think it’s something else.”

  Had she been so preoccupied lately that she’d forgotten to torment him?

  He studied her for a long moment and she had the insane urge to cry.

  “I...I don’t know what’s wrong,” she said.

  “I don’t, either. I just know that I miss you,” be said softly.

  The knot in her stomach tightened. “I miss you, too,” she whispered.

  The silence between them held for several moments.

  “Tell me about Nancy,” he said.

  She knew this was coming, but knowing it didn’t soften the sharp feeling of jealousy and embarrassment.

  “What about her?”

  “What was she doing in town?”

  “Taking care of business, she said.”

  “She said that you two have kept in touch over the years. How come I didn’t know that?”

  “You don’t know everything,” she managed to say.

  “Don’t you think that might have been something I wanted to know?”

  With exaggerated fascination, she studied a drop of water making its way down the glass. “I...thought it would be painful for you. You never talked about her, you ended the relationship...”

  He let the silence stretch for an unreasonably long time.

  “You thought I still had feelings for her,” he said at last.

  “Yes.”

  “I’thought we trusted each other—”

  She looked up in surprise. “I do trust you!”

  “Then if you ever have a question about something that affects me, like Nancy, or anything else, talk to me about it. Understand?”

  “Okay.” She felt incredibly foolish.

  “Just to clear the record. I knew it wouldn’t work between me and Nancy. Anything more you want to ask?”

  “No.”

  “You sure? It seems there are a lot of things left unsaid between us.”

  “I’m sure.”

  Now it was his turn to find the tabletop fascinating. “I’ve thought a lot about what happened that night in Houston.” Craig drew a deep breath. “If you want my opinion, it’s been too long coming.”

  Temple weighed the mixture of feelings inside her. Then, as if Grams were speaking to her audibly, she heard the words: Take a chance, Tootie.

  “I’m scared of what happened, Craig.” She turned her water glass around, watching the rings it made on the tablecloth. “Lately...I have dreams. About you. And me.”

  He smiled, letting that dimple wink in his cheek. “So? I’ve had the same dreams.”

  She glanced up. “You have?”

  “Temple, why does what happened between us bother you so much? Wasn’t it good for you?”

  Her face warmed with embarrassment. “Of course it was. It was ... wonderful, but things changed that night.”

  “Nothing changed.”

  “I don’t want to lose what we have,” she said quietly.

  His features were solemn. “Neither do I.”

  She straightened her silverware; smoothed the napkin, making sure the hems were even.

  “Craig, let’s forget that night ever happened.” She made herself meet his gaze. Was there disappointment there? Or relief? “If we don’t let it change things, then it won’t. We can put this behind us. Forget it ever happened. Be ourselves again.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “It’s the only way to get back to normal.”

  Craig sat quietly, thinking about the proposal. She drank water she didn’t want.

  “Craig.”

  “Yes.”

  “Even if I want things to be different, you understand it just can’t be.”

  His gaze held hers, and she felt herself weakening.

  Okay, so Nancy’s out of the way, and I’m still scared.

  Picking up her glass, she worked at keeping her tone light. “To us, and to normalcy,” she toasted.

  He hesitated, but finally touched his glass to hers. “To normalcy.”

  They ate dinner and carried on a nearly regular conversation. He told her about his date with Celia, and she told him about the date with Brian and they managed to laugh together.

  “Temple,” he said a while later, “I want your promise that you won’t arrange any more dates for me. As of tonight, I’m officially off the dating circuit.”

  She frowned. “Are you sure?”

  “I’ve never been more sure of anything. Tomorrow, I’m serving notice to my friends that I’ll find my own dates from now on. If I have another date from hell it’ll be of my own choosing.”

  “Yeah...well, I guess the same goes for me. The Ricky incident capped it off for me.”

  “I should hope so.”

  “I didn’t want to go, but I let myself be persuaded. I should have paid attention to my intuition. From now on, I will.”

  Lifting his glass, he toasted her. “To no more blind dates.”

  “Hear, hear.”

  “I have to admit you’re a big improvement over my recent dates,” Craig said as he walked her to her truck later.

  “Yeah. I’m glad we’re back to normal.”

  “So am I.” He leaned down and briefly touched his lips to hers.

  “I’m glad we got this settled.”

  “So am I.” Standing on tiptoe, she returned his kiss. Their lips touched once, twice, then came back together hungrily.

  For a moment, the world faded as his lips explored hers. Murmuring his name incoherently, she pressed closer and closer, realizing this was hardly a friendly peck between friends.

  His hands dropped to her hips and pulled her flush against him. She felt the devastating effect she was having on him. He was having the same effect on her, and she knew it had to stop now or there wouldn’t be any stopping. She would drag him home to her bed like a cavewoman and he wouldn’t see daylight for days.

  “I have to go,” she whispered, breaking away abruptly.

  He drew a deep breath and released it slowly, running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. Me, too.”

  As she drove away, Temple knew nothing was back to normal. It never would be again.

  13

  THE SILVERADO SAT in its usual place every day the next week. Squarely on the line between the two parking places. Craig had to squeeze the Lincoln into his spot as best he could. At least that much was normal.

  On Thursday, when they still hadn’t had their usual race for the space, he squeezed out of his car. As he passed Temple’s truck, he laid a hand on the hood. Cool. She’d been in for at least an hour. The truce they’d agreed to hadn’t made any difference. She was still avoiding him.

  Giving Flo the high sign as he passed the car rental booth, Craig strode quickly to the staff lounge. Scotty was already there, a cup of coffee, a checkbook and a pile of envelopes in front of him. Pouring himself some coffee, Craig observed dryly in his best “Twilight Zone” imitation, “For your consideration, Jim Scott, pilot. Checkbook. Pile of envelopes. Frown. It is... the first of the month.”

  “Forget the ‘Twilight Zone.’ This is more a David Copperfield thing,” Scotty retorted. “The trick is seeing how far the ole paycheck will stretch. This month, I don’t think
it’s going to stretch far enough.”

  Craig took a chair across from his copilot. “A wife, three kids, a mortgage, car payments. How do you do it?”

  Scotty closed the checkbook and stuffed the envelopes into his jacket pocket. “It’s not easy, but Steph and I think she needs to be home with the kids right now.”

  Looking away, Craig’s features clouded.

  “Something bothering you?” Scotty asked.

  “Not really.” He took a sip of his coffee.

  “Temple?”

  Shrugging, Craig stared at the cup as if analyzing it.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “No, not yet.”

  Scotty briefly rested a hand on Craig’s shoulder as he got up. “You know where I am. Shoulder’s free.”

  Scotty went to mail his monthly payments. Craig was staring at his cooling coffee and brooding when Temple walked in a few moments later.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Hi.”

  “Any plans for tonight?”

  Surprised, he glanced up. “Tentative. You?”

  “I’m filling in for Janeanne on a Chicago flight. Did Susan call you?”

  The muscle in Craig’s jaw thightened. “No more dates, Temple. That’s gospel.”

  “I know we agreed, but I’m in a bind,” she told him. “Susan cornered me yesterday. We’d talked some time ago about, well, setting up something with you. She kind of pinned me down for tonight.”

  “No.”

  Temple poured a half cup of coffee and sipped it hesitantly. “Is that a flat no, or a semi-flat no?”

  Hell. What’s the use, he thought. Obviously she wasn’t really ready to let this thing between them, whatever it was, develop into anything.

  “What’s she look like?”

  The question obviously took Temple by surprise. Apparently, she was expecting him to hold out, plead burnout, tell her to lay off.

  That’s the problem, he thought. We’ve always had this “best buddy” thing working, use each other for an excuse to get out of a date or to come to the rescue—like the Ricky Lawrence incident—and now she’s taking me for granted. I’m always around when she needs me. I’m too available. As for the other night, who the hell knew what she was thinking.