“Are you going to try to convince me that it’s so we can get a true feel for the theater?”
“Duh.”
“Nice try,” I said, pressing lightly against his arms to break his hold and stand. “I’m not trying to brag or anything, but I’m on to you.”
“Oh, really, smarty pants? Because here’s my whole pitch for the theater, which I wouldn’t have even thought of if this was a ninja date. We should do a morningside in here with a keynote speaker and then show a Mormon movie, a fun one, like that comedy about girl’s camp. Cool, right?”
I crossed my arms, annoyed-teacher style. “You had to bring me here to pitch me that idea? I call shenanigans. Just admit you ninja-dated me.”
He climbed to his feet, which forced me to look up at him again. “No way. This would never be the first date I took you on.”
“Good, because if someone were to do a movie first date, I would feel so bad for their date-planning skills, I might be moved to do something about it.”
His eyes were slits. “I respect that, but there might be a reason someone would do a movie for a first date. Like maybe a guy was trying to show you how normal everything could be and not scare you away with some big production. Speaking hypothetically, of course. Because it’s possible you put out a major scaredy-cat vibe.”
“Excuse me?” I said, and my right eyebrow shot up. Every time it happened in class, the kids would go, “Oooooh, you gonna get it,” to whoever had earned the eyebrow.
“I said it”—he crossed his arms to imitate me—“and I’m not taking it back.”
“Oh, it’s on, friend. We’re going on a date. Tomorrow. Be ready by eight o’clock.”
“Tomorrow is Sunday.”
“I know. It’s kind of perfect, right? Here you had a whole Saturday night and whiffed it, and I’m going to work with a Sunday morning and still put together a better first date.”
He tried to keep a straight face. “Whiffed it? Do you want to leave any of my ego intact?”
“No. You deserve it. I told you no to a date a million times, and you did it anyway, screwed it up, and now I have to fix it. If we’re going to have a first date, we’re going to do it right.”
His arms snaked out, and he looped a finger through each of my front belt loops, drawing me to him. My hands flew to his shoulders to keep my balance. “I’ll let you show me how it’s done on one condition,” he said, resting his hands on my waist. “Let’s call it what it is: a second date. Because I don’t think you’re a kiss-on-the-first-date kind of girl. And I’m most definitely going to kiss you.”
My mouth dropped, and he smiled down at me and brushed his thumb against my bottom lip. And even though he’d just caused a near-death experience, he stepped back, claimed my hand, and led me out of the theater.
Chapter 13
I picked up Max because he lived closer to our destination. While I waited in his parking lot for him to come down, I leaned against the car and tried not to fidget. I straightened when I saw him walking across the parking lot dressed in his church clothes, like we’d agreed.
He looked good. So good. Light-blue shirt, a narrow black tie, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, hair still damp. He hugged me, and I wanted to burrow against him, breathe in his fresh starch smell. His arms tightened around me for a second before he cleared his throat and stepped back. “What’s on the agenda, boss?”
“A picnic and some exploring.”
“Sounds good. I don’t want to sound sexist, but can I still open your door for you even though you’re driving? If I don’t, it’s going to feel like I’m starting off this date with only one shoe or something.”
I moved to the side, and he opened the door for me, then went around and climbed into the passenger side.
“Oh, man, it smells amazing in here.” He sniffed. “Bacon. That’s all I need to know.”
“That’s my air freshener. I only brought granola bars and some bananas because they’re easier to pack. Sorry about getting your hopes up.”
“The only thing that could improve a morning with Lila Mae and bacon is Lila Mae wisecracking about bacon.”
“I’m feeling inadequate that I’m not enough on my own.”
“Hey,” he said, reaching out to run his finger along my jawline until I smiled at him. He dropped his hand and sat back. “You are all the things, Lila Mae. All the things.”
“Thanks.” My heart did a Cajun jitterbug.
It was about fifteen minutes to the state capitol. We talked conference most of the way until we turned onto the capitol grounds and he realized where we were going. “I haven’t been here since my eighth-grade Louisiana history field trip.”
“It’s a good place for a picnic,” I said. I could have probably picked a few different parks for us to go to as well, but those would be busier with families as the morning wore on. The capitol had only two other cars in the parking lot, and the lawn stretched out empty, unbroken, and inviting.
“You know what’s funny?” he asked as we climbed out. “Since eighth grade is when you do state history in Louisiana and Pennsylvania, I actually know more about your state than mine.”
I smiled, even though, stupidly, it bothered me that he called Louisiana “my” state. It drew a line between us, a line as invisible and real as the Mason-Dixon line itself.
I opened the trunk and reached in for the picnic hamper and blanket, but Max lifted the basket out of my hands. “Let me.”
“You’re trying to get close to the bacon, aren’t you?”
“Guilty.”
We followed the sidewalk through the manicured grass lined with low green hedges to a live oak tree I liked.
“Does this look good?” I asked.
“Looks perfect.”
I spread the blanket out and positioned us so we could see the statue of Huey P. Long and the capitol building behind him. Max sank down beside me and eyed the basket. I laughed and produced a foil-covered casserole dish. I handed it to him to open while I removed the plates and cutlery strapped to the hamper’s top. “Don’t get too excited about that,” I said as I handed Max a plate. “It’s a hash-brown, egg, bacon thing I used to make for my brothers, so it’s nothing fancy, but it travels well.”
He took a bite. “Between you and your mom, I have to run a bunch of extra miles to keep from blowing up like a puffer fish.”
“Glad you like it, but save some room. I have orange rolls. Homemade. They’re kind of my specialty.”
“You haven’t made anything that wasn’t awesome yet, so it must all be your specialty.”
“Keep talking. You’re doing good.”
“No talking. Eating.”
We spent the next fifteen minutes joking as we finished off the food. “I have to admit that your first date is better,” he said as he slid his empty plate into the plastic grocery sack I’d brought for trash.
“We’re not even done yet. I thought we could go for a walk.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He helped me to my feet and insisted on carrying everything back to the car himself. When it was safely stowed, he took my hand. “Where to?”
“You okay with wandering?”
“That works.”
We started at the statute. “If we came here in two more weeks, this whole place would be full of azaleas.”
“It’s pretty cool as it is.” He read the statue’s plaque. “Louisiana has some interesting history.”
“Most interesting in the whole United States.”
“Way to show your pride, but don’t forget Philadelphia kinda had a lot going on there.”
Good point, dang it. “But is it as colorful as our history?” I pointed at Huey P. Long. “You remember that he was called the dictator of Louisiana, right? It doesn’t get much more colorful than him.”
“We have a statue of Rocky. Also, remember that we had Ben Franklin? I can go toe-to-toe with you on colorful historical figures.”
“Does your state capitol or mine win?”
>
“Uh . . . mine is a national historic landmark, and it’s based on the design of St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome. So mine does.”
I scowled at him. “Ours is an Art Deco masterpiece. And it’s the tallest capitol in the US. And if the azaleas were blooming, mine would definitely win.”
“I remember the azaleas. You’re right. If they were blooming, you’d win.”
“You’re just saying that to be nice.”
“Yes.”
“Fine. But our food is still better.”
He opened his mouth and snapped it shut. “I feel guilty that I can’t argue with that.”
“I should have brought you to the Old State Capitol. A bunch of movies have been filmed there. Oooh, we should look at it as our next venue. Now that’s a marquee-event kind of place.”
“I don’t want to talk about the conference or why you’re having a competition about Baton Rouge versus Philly.”
“Then what are we supposed to talk about?”
“Nothing. I don’t want to talk.” Instead he cupped the back of my neck and let his thumb dance over my wild pulse. He bent and kissed me, and every sound stopped except for his soft exhale as he lifted his head. He watched me, gauging to see if I was okay with it. His hand stayed where it was, and since my hammering pulse was telling him everything I might want to deny, I didn’t bother to try. I rested my hands on his chest, glad to feel his heart pounding as hard as mine, and tilted my head in an invitation. He leaned down for another kiss, longer this time, and impossibly, it was even better.
He straightened and laced his fingers through mine, guiding us back on the path to wander again.
When my pulse had calmed down, I heard a chorus of birds perched in the live oaks. “Want to hear a nerd confession?”
“Hit me,” he said.
“I think bird watching would be cool.”
He shook his head. “It will never be cool. But it might be fun. Making a mental note for our third date.”
Third date. I didn’t have the faintest desire to resist. “We’re only an hour into this one, with four to go until church. I might have been ambitious. I’m not sure what else to do.”
He grinned down at me, and I pinched him for the look in his eyes. “What was that for?” he asked.
“You know.” I used my disapproving teacher voice.
“No, Teach. Spell it out for me.”
“Y-o-u-b-e-h-a-v-e-y-o-u-r-s-e-l-f.”
“Yes, ma’am. But to tell you the truth, I could do this all morning,” he said, squeezing my hand.
“We’ll probably do about seven hundred laps of the grounds. It’s not that big.”
“How do you feel about a Sunday drive?”
“Where?”
“Hey, I’m not in charge of this date.”
“Then let’s follow the river two hours one way and see where we end up before we have to turn back around.”
“On one condition. Does your teaching credential certify you to tell me facts about the Mississippi River that I didn’t get in eighth-grade history?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m in.”
“What if I don’t want to teach you about the Mississippi?”
“I was bluffing. I’ll sit in your car for no reason at all.”
I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and grabbed hold of his collar to pull him down to kiss him. “You are unfairly good at this,” I said when I let him go.
He stole a kiss back. “It’s because I’m playing to win,” he whispered against my lips.
Oh, man.
Chapter 14
“Where are we again?” Max asked.
“Natchez, Mississippi.”
“I can’t believe you took me across state lines.”
“I regret nothing. Want to climb the levee?”
“As much as Cajuns want crawfish.”
There was no fence separating the road from the upward slope of the levee, and it was an easy walk to the top.
We sat, and Max stretched his legs in front of him, leaning back to watch the river. “I remember when the levees broke during Hurricane Katrina. It was before we moved here, and I thought a levee was much different than what it is.”
Most levees were earthen embankments built high so that it would be harder for the river to flood over them. “The ones in New Orleans are different. They’re built out of concrete.”
“We should do that for another field trip—go down there and check them out. I haven’t been to New Orleans, and it sounds like a cool town.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t do that when your dad was mission president.”
“We didn’t travel with him on Sundays much, remember? He went with his APs, and Mom would bring us to your ward.”
“Right. How could I forget that little black rain cloud in the middle of the chapel every Sunday?”
“I don’t know why you’re so mean to me.” His eyes widened. “Wait. Yes, I do. It’s because you had the biggest crush on me of all time back then.”
I clapped my hands over my face and shut him out. “Shut up. We’re never going to talk about that again.”
He laughed and peeled away enough of my fingers that he could meet my eye. “The only crush bigger than yours was the one I had on you.”
He let my fingers go and covered my face again. “You had a crush on me?”
“Going to have to look at me if you want an answer.”
I peeked out at him. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
I cleared my throat. “So?”
“I was crazy about you, but it always seemed like I only drove you crazy. Then one day it seemed like you were feeling it too.”
I let my hands drift down. “I was both. I loathed you and wanted you to like me all at the same time. It was confusing.”
“Yeah. To put it mildly.” But his smile was self-deprecating. “That’s why—” He broke off with another wince.
“Why what?”
“You said not to bring it up. I’m going to respect that. I don’t want to upset you.”
“It’s all right. Now that I teach high school, I know you were just being sixteen.”
“I wasn’t sixteen! Fifteen-and-a-half, actually. Fifteen is so much dumber than sixteen.”
“Fair point. Fifteen isn’t great for boys.” I stared out at the river and sighed. “All right, I’m Sunday mellow. Hit me with whatever you want.”
“When I asked you to dance, I never meant for it to end like it did.”
I’d been so excited about that stake dance I’d been almost nauseated. What if no one asked me to dance? What if Max didn’t? What if he did? It had been scary walking into the building, but I’d tried to remember Mom’s advice: “If you’re always dancing your heinie off during the fast numbers, everyone will assume you’re dancing the slow ones too, even if you’re not. But honestly, no one will be thinking about whether you’re dancing or not except you.”
I’d gone into that stake center prepared to dance like I was going for a gold medal in the sport of Whip Nae Nae, or whatever we were doing ten years ago. Max stayed against the wall with a couple of other boys in the teachers quorum who’d decided he wasn’t so bad. A couple of times I’d caught him glancing my way, and I’d looked away and done an extra shimmy.
When the first slow song came on, boys who had been on the sidelines the entire time trickled onto the floor to ask girls to dance, but no one asked me.
I fled to the water fountain, pretending not to notice Max hanging out about five yards from the door. I didn’t want him to see how much I wanted him to ask me to dance. I wasted more time until I was sure the slow song was over and went back into the gym, where Kate pounced on me. “Where’d you go?”
“Bathroom. No one asked me to dance.”
She looped her arm through mine and dragged me out to the dance floor, shouting, “I’m asking you now!”
We danced until the next slow song played and two short guys came up and asked us to dance. My par
tner told me he and his friend were in a competition to get girls’ phone numbers, and he wanted to get mine.
I thought I would feel flattered the first time someone asked me for my number, but being a statistic in someone’s bet with a friend didn’t sound so cool. I said, “No, thanks.”
He shut up for a painful minute and then started talking about how many he’d gotten so far and how his older brother was the most popular guy at their high school and how he was going to pass him up.
I yanked my hands out of his. “I think it’s pretty rude to ask for a number to win some dumb bet.” I walked off the floor and waited for Kate.
“Good for you,” she said when I told her what happened.
“This dance isn’t what I thought it would be. Can we go home?”
“Because Max hasn’t talked to you?”
He was talking to the guy I’d just danced with. “Max? No way. I don’t care.”
Kate told me I had to prove it and dragged me out to dance again. We got only three songs before the next slow one, and I didn’t even have time to panic when Max appeared and asked me to dance. We kind of did the deacon shuffle, and a few silent seconds went by.
“So, this is your first dance, huh?”
“Yes.”
“You like it?”
“Yeah.” He was trying to talk to me. I relaxed a little.
“What do you like the best so far?”
Dancing with you, hands down. “The cookies. What about you?” Say dancing with me.
He didn’t answer. Instead he leaned down a little. He had only about three inches on me back then. I moved a tiny bit closer to him, so tiny only I would notice I had done it, but I felt brave.
He pulled me in closer, letting go of my hand to hold my waist instead, fumbling where his hands met behind my back, like he couldn’t figure out exactly what he was supposed to do with them.
We were doing “I like you style” dancing on our very first dance together! When the song ended, he let go and stepped back. “Thanks for the dance,” he said with that smirk that used to drive me bad crazy. Suddenly it was crazy cute.
Southern Charmed Page 11
