Page 22 of Forest Proximity
“I might be able to do better.” I hold up a hand before Marlow gets too excited. “But you have to do better than Chuck.”
“He seemed nice.” She shrugs.
“Marlow.” I purse my lips. “You’ve met my dad and my brothers. Ike and August. That’s the bar.” I frown. “And that’s why I must reiterate that I’m going to win this bethandily.”
Marlow presses her lips together, unconvinced.
I gave up hope of finding a Good Enough man long ago. If one does exist, he’ll have to stumble into my life like Bigfoot. It’s the only possible way. Because unlike Bigfoot, I’m not looking for him. I’m content, teaching my choir students during the school year and spending time in the woods during the summer. It’s a happy life.
With that in mind, I grab my purse and shimmy out of the booth. I have an early morning that I’m looking forward to. “I’m going to head out. Thanks for dinner.”
I turn toward the door and jolt when a dark figure stands from the booth directly behind mine. I throw my hand over my chest, sucking in a deep breath. Adam, of Shirtless renown, is inches away.
“Have you been there the whole time?” The question shoots out of me. I’m still a little startled. I mean, the guy is humongous.
Marlow stands beside us, and I sense her observing my behavior like I’m a rat in a lab.
Adam shrugs, a man of few words. No wonder I didn’t know he was behind me for that entire, disastrous date.
I haven’t heard from him since our phone call the other night when he told me not to go into the woods alone. He might’ve also called me Carrot Cake, but the more time passes, the more I’m sure I misheard him.
And at this moment I don’t know how to act or talk to him. Are we friends now? I stopped Butterballsy from attacking him. That’s something. I suppose he also took me home when I couldn’t drive and carried-slash-abducted me when I was knocked out. All signs point to budding friendship.
I twist my mouth to the side, peering up at him. “Are we friends, or ...”
Marlow drags her hand down her face. “I can’t watch this,” she mumbles. Then she turns to Adam with a bright smile. “Good to see you again. Thanks for coming in. I’m just going to—” She hitches her thumb in the direction of the kitchen and leaves, shaking her head.
“Bye, Marlow.” I clear my throat, hitching my purse higher on my shoulder. “So? Friends?”
“Uh, I think so.” Adam's neck is red now.
“Okay.” I turn toward the glass doors, and he follows me.
When we pass the register and my display of T-shirts, I grab Adam’s arm.
“Hang on.” I duck behind the counter and snag a shirt in what I hope is his size. I hand it to him. “On the house.”Because you obviously don’t own enough shirts, I don’t add.
Plus, the man is captivating in a T-shirt. He’s wearing one right now. It’s gray heather and accentuates his shoulders and chest like he’s a perfectly carved statue of a Roman warrior. On second thought, maybe he should take that thing off. It’s indecent.
My cheeks feel hot all of a sudden.
Meanwhile, Adam unfolds the shirt, holding it up to look at the design. It’s a simple white cotton—they were the cheapest,giving me the highest return on my investment—with my sharpest Bigfoot photo screenprinted in black and white. The words “I saw Bigfoot in Cape Georgeana, Maine” are printed in big block letters over the image.
“Oh.” Adam coughs. “Wow. Uh ...Thanks.” His eyebrows draw together in obvious concern.
“I know, I know. You don’t want me to encourage people to go into the woods.”
He can’t seem to pull his eyes away from the T-shirt. “It’s not that—”
“You don’t have to wear it or anything.” I move toward the door. “It’s just for fun.” I can’t leave fast enough now.
What was I thinking? Adam isn’t exactly supportive of my little bet with my friends, and I just threw away some of my profits. This whole night has been one mistake after another. I need to go home, respond to my brothers’ messages, and get in bed early.
I dig my phone out of my purse while I walk, swiping the screen. There’s nothing from my brothers, though. They’re only texts from a clothing website I subscribed to for ten percent off. I keep forgetting to unsubscribe, and now they’re like salt in the wound my brothers’ busyness left behind. I shove through the glass door onto the sidewalk in front of the diner.
“I’m sorry.” Adam follows me outside.
A golf cart whizzes past. Adam pulls me out of its path just before I become roadkill. He drops his hand like I scorched him. “You okay?”
