Page 3

Chapter 3

Moxie

T he combined voices of the crowd blend with the thumping and clanging of rides and the ringing of prize buzzers as I weave my way through the town’s summer fair. Childhood memories climb to the surface as I slip between tents towards the building where they’re housing the business expo. I’ll stroll up to his booth and express a little interest. If I get bad vibes, I walk away. It’s no different than saying hey to a guy at the bar, and yet my anxious belly seems to be convinced that it is.

Six-foot tables line both sides of three aisles. A few people mill about near the entrance to the exhibit hall, but none of them are Hannah. I hang my thumbs on my belt loops awkwardly while I wait. Since I’m one of the millions of cyborgs who can’t seem to pass a silent moment without a screen, I whip out my phone to check my notifications. Still no Hannah. I glance at the phone’s clock before shoving it in my back pocket with a sigh. It’s five minutes after one o’clock. She’s late, which seems very unlike her. Or maybe I’ve misjudged her. It never really surprises me when people let me down. It’s the whole reason I try not to depend on anyone. If you don’t expect anything from them, they can’t disappoint you.

Another scan of the room, and three booths up the aisle, right in my eye-line, a frog is staring me down. Not an actual slimy creature but a bright green costumed one, with eyes more disturbing than friendly. Odds of any child catching sight of that thing and wanting to come within ten feet of it are slim. I shudder and resume my search. After scanning all the rows, my eyes swing the other direction, and I jump back a step in shock. The frog is still zeroed in on me from the vicinity of the insurance booth for which it appears to be the mascot. I swear it looks closer than it was before.

I narrow my eyes at the frog. I can’t say what’s going on inside the massive head, but the costume eyes remain fixed, never moving. What the hell is up with this theme park reject? Finally, it glances from side to side, then discreetly—or as discreetly as a six-foot, lime green, fur covered amphibian can—beckons me.

I laugh as it hits. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter. “This is your plan? I don’t know if I can take you seriously in that.”

“One, I tried to send you the plan, but your email wouldn’t accept the attachment. It said the file was too large.” Hannah's voice is muffled by the thick mask. I’d tell her to take it off so I could talk to her but I’m honestly not sure which would be more scarring to children: the actual mask or seeing the fake frog decapitate itself.

“How large a file could you have possibly created for a meet cute?” I ask, incredulous.

The massive head tilts and I can picture Hannah’s nose crinkling in confusion. “Well, I had photos, a bio on Wyatt, and a PowerPoint with an embedded role-playing video to demonstrate recommended conversation starters. There was a minute-by-minute Excel schedule—which we’re behind on, by the way—and a map of directions from the bar since I didn’t know where you live, as well as of the parking lot and fairgrounds.”

My jaw hangs slack as I gape at her. “You made a role-playing video? You’re going to have to find a way to get me that file. I don’t care if it's no longer relevant.”

“I like to be prepared,” she grumbles.

“What was point two?”

“I couldn’t have him recognize me. You wanted to meet him with no pressure.”

“Yeah, yeah. What’s the plan?”

“He’s at the next booth, so I can try to listen in and signal if you go off track.” Hannah points her green finger at a brightly colored booth full of snowboards, kayaks, and a mannequin decked out in snow gear. The sign reads, “Shred and Tread.” Maybe Hannah found someone for me who won’t be boring.

“Think of me as your Cyrano; instead of a silver-tongued wordsmith, I’m an amphibian with hand signals. I researched earpieces, but your hair is too short to hide them.”

“Earpieces might have been extreme. You ready?”

“Ready Freddy.” She hands out a few flyers to passersby.

How the heck did she manage to become the insurance company’s mascot on short notice? A mystery for another time.

I walk around her, and there he is.

The lone guy in the booth wraps up a conversation with some other expo attendees, then bends over the table, his casual blond curls falling in his eyes. He looked good in his picture, but it didn’t do him justice. Hannah didn’t mention the pure ease with which he carries himself, nor how badly I would want to run my fingers through his gorgeous wavy hair. And that body, naturally toned and tanned, tickles my insides. I can picture his strong arms pulling himself up the cliff walls. I make a mental note to thank Hannah later.

I slow my steps, forcing my eyes away from Wyatt and studying the gear behind him, while my heart rate returns to normal. I show enough interest for any expo booth shark to latch on to a potential customer, and Wyatt bites.

“Do you kayak?” he asks.

“I’ve been once before. Does that count?”

He flashes me a wide grin, and oh god. I’m such a sucker for dimples, and he’s got them. “What I’m hearing is, you’re practically a pro?”

I laugh. “Something like that.”

“Here, take a look at this. We have two-person kayaks for our river tours, and if you want an exciting group experience, you should check out our white-water rafting.”

“These pictures look awesome!” Hannah was setting me up for a date, but it looks like I’m going to have fun even if the romance doesn’t work out. My eyes linger on his mouth, and I imagine… Oh shit, he’s watching me. I’m probably drooling. Get it together.

“Which one sounds more your speed?” He opens a book with pictures and descriptions of various options. He got a laugh out of me right away, he doesn’t give off creep vibes, and he’s even more attractive than I'd expected from his picture. I should probably pay attention so I can make a decision, because while I may still have reservations about dating long term, I’m fully on board for a night with this guy. His warm smile keeps pulling my eyes back up to that handsome face.

“Rafting sounds fun.”

“It’s rad. We’ve got beginner rides that stay on Class II or III rapids, or we have expert runs that hit Class V and VI.” Wyatt’s face lights up as he goes through the details. Flipping through pictures of past trips, I can see his taut biceps working the oar through the water. They are the same muscles currently testing the seams on his Henley. In the photos, the sun glistens off the water spray sprinkled through his hair. Yep, I’m sold.

“I’ve got sign-up sheets with me if you’re interested, or I can give you one of our brochures that talks about our other options. We’re adding a new climbing tour soon, too.” His eyes dart away as if catching himself on something.

“Can I see the times available?”

“Sure.” He guides me around the table, and as I lean over the clipboard with the sign-up sheets, I stand close enough to brush against him in a way that I hope sparks his attention without being obvious.

His forearm visibly tenses as he explains the sheets to me. I inhale and get a whiff of pine tree and moss, and I tamp down the moan of pleasure that wants to escape. I half-listen as he explains the sheets, distracted by his mouth and the way his frequent grin stretches kissable lips, bringing out dimples that make me weak. If he always smiles this much and this isn’t just win-a-client mode, I'm a goner.

My pen hovers over the sign-up sheet, wavering between intensity levels. On the one hand, I don’t want to look like a wimp. On the other hand, I’ve never been rafting before.

“I think I’ll sign up for the intermediate level,” I say, louder than necessary. I sneak a quick glance at Hannah, who has frozen in place. It’s hard to get any advice from a giant, unmoving frog. She probably had a whole alphabet’s worth of signals in her failed email. I’m going to have to go with it. I lower my pen to the page, when suddenly, there’s a loud crash.

Without warning, Hannah has gotten into her role of frog mascot, and while crouched down, hopping back and forth, she’s knocked over a table full of materials.

“The mascot’s gone berserk!” the guy running the booth shouts, scrambling to pick up the puddle of brochures. Wyatt moves to help them, but Hannah stops jumping and tries to lend a webbed hand to the cleanup effort. The costume hands can’t grip anything, so she’s basically pawing at the ground, but Wyatt would just get in the way now and turns back.

“That was weird,” he says. I can only assume that was Hannah’s absurd attempt to tell me I shouldn’t take the intermediate level course. She said her exes thought she was too predictable and not adventurous enough. Is she telling me I’d better go for the expert if I want to impress him? Does she know I’ve never been rafting before? It’s the only explanation that I can think of, so that’s what I’m rolling with.

“On second thought, I think I’ll try the expert class,” I flip to that sheet, and write my name on the form.

“Moxie?” he asks, reading over my shoulder. “That’s a unique name.” He’s so sexy, I’m tempted to scoot back the mere inch or so between us and lean against him. That’d be a little much for an introduction, though. Especially since he doesn’t know we’re dating yet.

“It is.” I cap my pen and spin to face him. I rest against the table, and we are right in each other’s personal bubbles.

He raises an eyebrow at me, and I huff. “It’s a nickname, but we do not speak of my given name.”

“Why not?”

I smirk. “Funny, that sounds like speaking about it.”

“Does it?” He holds up his hands in a show of innocence. “Surely there’s a loophole in there somewhere.”

I tap my chin, then lean in to whisper, “If there is, I'm not going to help you find it.”

“I’m good at finding things.” His own whisper is minty fresh, but not overpoweringly so. My eyes flick to his lips, which he absolutely notices, and the grin is back.

“Is that so?” I ask.

He straightens and runs a hand through his curls. “Yeah, but you could help me out.”

“Alright. It’s not that deep. It doesn’t fit. I despise it, and I’m pretty sure anytime someone calls me by it an angel dies or something.”

He laughs a deep belly laugh that’s like a warm hug. “So dramatic. What is it?”

“A closely guarded secret.” I fold my arms, and if they nudge my breasts up the teensiest bit, it’s purely coincidence.

“I’m good at keeping secrets too.”

“Sounds like you’re good at a lot of things. I’m still not telling you my legal name.”

He pouts. “I’ll get it out of you eventually.”

There’s a brief pause in the conversation, and I realize I’m not supposed to already know his name. “We’ll see. And you are?”

His eyes widen and he inches back to increase the space between us.

“Right, sorry. I’m Wyatt.” He offers me his hand, switching right out of flirtation and into professional mode. I’ll have to fix that.

I grasp it firmly, holding on longer than a handshake would require, and I meet his eyes. I pitch my voice lower in a way I hope sounds seductive. “Nice to meet you… Wyatt.”

I’m pretty good at reading expressions, but if we were at a poker table right now, everyone would know he has a royal flush. His face reddens, and those killer dimples reappear. “The pleasure is all mine.”

“I’ll see you Thursday.” I walk away with my head held up confidently, and a smidge of extra sway in my stride.

“I’m going to find out that name!” he shouts up the aisle.

I shake my head. “Good luck.”

“How’d I do?” I ask Hannah in our planned restroom meetup.

She removes her costume head and gulps fresh air. “Oh, he’s hooked. You should have seen the way he stared after you. He leaned so far, he nearly fell over the table.”

“That picture was criminally misleading.” I fan my face as if that could cool the heat in my belly.

“I thought you liked his picture.”

“I did, but it was underwhelming compared to seeing him in person.”

“Yeah, he’s a cutie. A charmer too.” Hannah shimmies, struggling to free herself from the costume.

“Definitely. Thanks.” I’m genuinely impressed at the lengths she’s gone to for this hair-brained scheme.

She pauses in her shuffling and her muffled voice comes from somewhere in the vicinity of the costume’s neck. “Which course did you end up signing up for? Did you get my signal?”

“Your extremely subtle signal not to take the intermediate? Yeah, you were hard to miss. I went with expert,” I say.

Her face, sprouting from the unmasked furry green body of her frog suit, falls. Her smile is replaced with wide eyed horror.

“Oh no.”