Page 3

S o, I was mostly right.

The day went as well as it could.

The only thing that could have gone better the first half of our morning was if the out-of-town crowd, our temporary neighbors, hadn’t asked to follow along. Despite my best-laid plans to avoid scrutiny, it seemed the group would be stuck with us for the long haul.

It was daunting to learn everything before their numerous eyes, but it came with the territory of having a well-recognized father. At least if I embarrassed myself in front of them, they’d be gone from my life after this weekend.

With shaky legs, I parked and dismounted the four-wheeler in the shade of a towering oak so the midday sun wouldn’t bake the black leather seat while we ate. The instant after that, I stripped off the riding gear. The foggy helmet was the first to go. It was abnormally hot, even for June, but Dad still made me wear the riding pants with built-in pads, a long-sleeved shirt, mid-calf boots, gloves, chest plate, and helmet.

I discovered a newfound appreciation for football players who donned all this and more before physically exerting themselves on top of that for each game. Sweat soaked my moisture wicking shirt, and I only had to sit on my happy butt and work the throttle.

Once I’d disrobed to my wine purple tank top, I tied my flannel button-up around my waist. It wouldn’t be long before the gentle breeze dried my skin, and then I’d be shivering.

“What’s for lunch?” Nick badgered Dad.

“Burgers. I brought the grill.”

“But that’ll take ages. ”

Dad grinned and ruffled Nick’s hair. “No, it won’t. They are already seasoned and shaped into patties. Give me ten minutes, tops.”

Did I mention Dad could cook?

His inner chef came about through his need to bribe me into manning the camera for him. Dad was handsome, possessed what the Irish fondly called the gift of gab, and had the magnetic charisma to be in front of a camera, so we’d researched ways to polish that by studying other channels, especially when he realized the potential to earn more by doing things we loved.

That hadn’t been without cost though. My seven-year-old currency was lemon blueberry cookies, the kind Mom used to make before she started working so many hours.

After some spectacularly pitiful burned attempts, in which he’d been forced to assure the local fire department that everything was fine when concerned neighbors reported suspicious smoke, Dad discovered the reason recipes were written a certain way. Once that concept clicked, he nailed the bribery cookies and kept going, taking over the kitchen duties in the house to ease some of Mom’s burden, even after he could easily afford a production team and, therefore, a chef.

I still filmed for him and captured decent photos for his website because I enjoyed photography, but only occasionally when the crew wasn’t around to handle it themselves. Mostly these days, I photographed shots of nature.

“Hamburgers.” Nick sighed the same way a lovesick girl would while discussing the latest heartthrob boy band.

Dad and Nick manned the grill while I greedily gulped down water like a parched sponge.

“You okay, Willy?” Dad asked.

I went to respond, but a startled voice interrupted.

“Oh, you’re a girl!”

The original three speakers, the leaders of the pack, approached, albeit dustier and muddier than before.

I glanced down at myself. “Huh, would you look at that? I am.”

Had they not seen me getting geared up earlier?

The shock on their faces said, no, they’d been too busy fanboying over Dad with moonstruck heart eyes.

One man snickered and elbowed the person who’d blurted his shock.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just, your gear hid…” His ears burned bright red. “You know what? I’m going to stop.”

The eldest of the trio smiled at the stuttering man. “That’s probably a good idea, Brandon. It won’t be very pleasant prying your size thirteens out of your mouth if you keep shoving your foot further in.”

Stutterer glanced at my dad. “I’m not a pervert. I promise.”

Dad waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. I know what you meant. She even impressed me.”

I frowned. And just what did that mean? After all that big talk of confidence with Mom, had he assumed I’d fail? Before I asked the barbed question aloud, Dad waylaid my query, shifting his attention to me.

“In fact, if you’re up for it, do you want to try out the more advanced trails?” His inquiry drew every eye in the vicinity my way.

How could I refuse? He’d divulged my life story before we left this morning to warn them why we’d be running the easier routes—probably calling me Willy in his narration, hence their confusion.

If I chickened out now, would the mildly sexist stutterer continue being shocked by competent female drivers?

Decisions, decisions.

“Uh, sure.”

“Good for you, girlie. We’ll leave in about half an hour,” the eldest said. “Does that sound okay with you? We’d love to tag along again if you don’t mind. The map the rangers provided is severely outdated.”

“Absolutely,” Dad agreed, showing off his spatula skills by flipping a burger in the air. “The more the merrier. We should be ready by then.”

The man nodded before he turned and addressed me. “Despite my friend’s blunt surprise, I wanted to compliment you. You’re doing a fantastic job out there for a girl. You must get it from your daddy.”

My knee-jerk response was a sarcastic, “For a girl? Gee, thanks.”

However, I strongly suspected Dad would scold me if I wasn’t polite, so instead, I smiled and, in the most neutral voice possible, replied, “Thank you.”

The man nodded and walked off, unaware of his own slight. He must not have any daughters.

Dad certainly noticed. “Hey, kiddo, I think you’re doing well, full stop. None of that ‘for a girl’ stuff.”

That dragged a tired grin from me. “Love you too, Dad.”

Feeling less like a scorched, shriveled plant after I’d chugged a second bottle of water, I remained at the picnic table while the burgers cooked. The bench sat in the shade, so I enjoyed the delicious scent of well-seasoned meat sizzling on a grill as well as the cool breeze trickling in from the forest.

“What do you think so far?” Dad asked as I turned away from the woods to people watch the other campers.

The group from out of state pulled out premade bologna sandwiches and perched on their trucks’ tailgates or the decks of the car trailers. There were quite a few people here despite being a random June weekend.

I vaguely recognized some locals, though we hadn’t ridden with them before. One of them drove an obnoxiously loud, heavily modified rock crawler that would be sort of hard to forget, so it was probably a new purchase.

If that engine wasn’t pushing at least six hundred horses, I’d eat my sweaty helmet.

There was also a gray Jeep at the far end of the campground that seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place where I’d seen it before. The guys who milled around their campsite near it were too far away for me to recognize their faces.

“It’s fun but exhausting,” I answered, “and hot. I’m burning up in that riding gear.”

“Yeah, I noticed. Why don’t you ride with your face shield up?”

That drew my focus from creeping on the campers and vehicles. Dad’s expression was innocent, except he was anything but. He whistled and flipped a patty.

“It was dusty,” I replied, taking a smaller sip of water. “I didn’t want it getting in my eyes.”

“Hmm. Dust,” was his ambivalent response.

Nick snorted. “You sure it wasn’t because of the big butt spider that landed on your face?”

Great, the one time I’d gotten brave and weaved around Dad to take the lead, I plowed right into the huge cobweb of some overachieving arachnid. Since there’d been enough room to pass a full-sized Jeep, the web had to have been at least fifteen feet wide. The worst of it was I’d seen the thing coming and lowered the retractable plastic. Unfortunately, I’d miscalculated my travel speed and ended up shutting the helmet a fraction too late, so the hairy spider got trapped inside with my vulnerable face. With the thick gloves on, I couldn’t find the microscopic tab thing to push the shield up fast enough.

I groaned and plopped my head on the table. The rough texture of the wood didn’t deter me from the cool temperature of it. “Saw that, did you?”

“How could anyone miss it? You nearly drove off into the brush!” Nick guffawed, a grin undoubtedly splitting his cheeks.

I huffed, trying to mask the pink tinge of embarrassment.

“It’s exhausting navigating those hills. I need a nap,” I grumbled. That wasn’t an accurate statement. I didn’t take naps. Even sleeping for ten minutes could subject me to nightmares and leave me feeling odd for hours afterward. The risks weren’t worth the reward, but it felt good to express how draining it was to ride in full gear with adrenaline pumping nonstop.

The trembles in my muscles still hadn’t subsided, and the nausea hadn’t either, but I’d eat. The females from Mom’s side of the family, including yours truly, had some strange form of diabetes. Thankfully, they’d figured out some pointers for dealing with it, because the doctors still hemmed and hawed over a diagnosis.

Any skipped meals, and my blood sugar levels dropped dangerously. My mom guided me through most of the worst-case scenarios, explaining symptoms and warning signs. The watch helped too, programmed to send alerts if my body temperature changed drastically.

Eating and eating often, however, staved off the worst of the symptoms, even if I didn’t feel hungry.

Coming down with the stomach flu was always good times.

“Eat up, kiddos,” Dad chirped. He had already plated my food and sat it in front of me—two hamburgers, extra pickles, a carton of blueberries, and a family-sized bag of chips all for little ole me.

I raised an eyebrow at the last item, but once I started eating and realized how hungry I was, I ended up polishing off the bag.

Gluttony, thy name is Willa.

“I don’t understand where you and your mom put all that food,” Dad commented with a shake of his head. “You’re both so tiny.” He gestured at my brother. “Nick’s a growing boy, but you two just don’t get very tall, do you?” he asked, ruffling my disastrous updo.

The blonde curls had stretched, crimped, and frizzed out in a mess between the heat, dust, and the helmet’s tight fit.

I swatted his hand, feigning irritation over the ruined state of my already disheveled hair. “Daaa-ad.” I smoothed my locks into place. “I’m basically an adult. Can you stop patting my head like I’m a little kid?”

He gave me a noogie in response. “You just turned seventeen. I still have a year left. Don’t rush me.”

The out-of-staters had grown more confident after riding with the famous Offroad Joe, and as they finished, they wandered over to our camp, trading stories and listening to Dad like he’d singlehandedly penned the bible on all things off-roading.

They unintentionally crowded me out of the picnic table, being too close for comfort when I was sweaty and probably smelly.

“Don’t wander far, Willy,” Dad called when he noticed my exit. “We’re heading out in ten.”

I waved him off, unwilling to verify how many people had missed his earlier storytelling and had just learned the hated nickname. Five minutes later, I swiped my camera from the safety of Dad’s glove box and began snapping pictures.

When I grew bored with the worm’s eye view perspective of Dad’s Jeep, I moved onto the sunlight filtering through the green canopy of trees. The small, pixelated screen made it difficult to determine if the stills would turn out, so I erred on the side of caution and captured extras. Usually, there’d be one decent photo in the batch when I reviewed them later on a laptop.

I roamed the campground with my camera. Most people were happy to pose for a picture, proud of their setup. Locals realized the shots would end up on my dad’s website, so they jumped on the chance to showcase the fruits of their labor, including the guy with the obnoxiously loud crawler.

When I reached the middle where the shower block resided, I figured it was time to head back, though I did cast one more look at the familiar gray Jeep, which was still so far away. For some reason, I was dead convinced I’d run into it somewhere.

Maybe I hadn’t seen it here , and the odd context was tripping me up mentally.

After a quick pit stop, since I’d drank two bottles of water and peeing in the middle of the woods wasn’t easy for a girl layered with enough riding gear to make an onion jealous, I was drying my hands on my leggings when I nearly smacked into a massive guy on his way to the boys’ side.

I windmilled my arms, fighting not to spill backwards, and calloused hands wrapped around my bare biceps.

“Oh, sorry,” I blurted, craning my neck up, and up, at my tripper and savior after he’d righted me.

“My pleasure,” he rumbled.

After spending the morning weighed down head to toe in bulky protective gear, my tank top and leggings felt inadequate beneath the intensity of his chocolate eyes.

I knew him—Ralph Buchanan, the friendly, flirty farmer’s boy in my grade. We even rode the same bus together until he got his own truck.

He had an average height for a guy, but he was stout and built like an ox—strong enough to earn the moniker Wreck-It Ralph as a middle school football player. To this day, he still had the high school coach panting after him to join the varsity team despite Ralph’s numerous reminders that his dad’s farm took priority.

Who could blame that desperate coach? Ralph Buchanan’s forearms were as thick as my thighs, and they were attached to a tree trunk torso.

Ralph’s tawny brown skin had darkened to nearly the same shade as his forehead-length dreadlocks, denoting just how many hours he’d been clocking on their farm in the three weeks since school ended. He had a round face to match his burly form and laughing dark eyes that inspired self-reflection with their endless depths.

Those deep eyes traveled up and down my figure, and I could only imagine what he saw—a short pipsqueak of a girl with crazily knotted, sweaty helmet hair on her way from the bathroom.

Beautiful, just beautiful.

Would he recognize me as that somewhat distant neighbor from his grade? Then, another thought hit. Were there others from our school here? When he wasn’t working from dusk to dawn in the fields, Ralph was an extremely social person.

The odds of him soloing out here…

“Hey,” Ralph started, tearing me from my thoughts. “Do you—”

My brain, while trying to decide if it would be better or worse for him to recognize me, short-circuited. “Oh my gosh, go!” my face blurted without permission from me.

Ralph tilted his head, his braids brushing his eyebrows from the shift, and an uncertain smile played on his full lips. I don’t think I’d ever seen him so thrown by another person before. “I’m sorry, what?”

“No, no, no, not you go. Sorry, I go. My dad’s group is waiting for me!” I explained and then wondered why it’d been necessary to mention my dad. What kind of seventeen-year-old hung out so much with her dad? Abort, Willahelm! “Right, so…”

Before he could say anything more—or worse, I could say anything more—I slipped deftly past him, one of the rare advantages of being so slight.

“Come on. They can wait a little,” Ralph cajoled, and to my horror, he was keeping pace, his long legs walking along with my slow jog. “I was just going to ask—”

“Didn’t you need the bathroom?” blurted the unstoppable train wreck masquerading as my mouth, as if it needed to remind him where he’d nearly bowled me over.

He shrugged my mortifying question off. “Nah, I’m a little preoccupied right now.”

My cheeks heated for some inexplicable reason, and because I hadn’t already driven the topic into the ground, I tacked on, “It’s not healthy, you know, to hold it in.”

“I think I’ll risk it. So… you come here often?” He waggled his eyebrows.

Despite the cheesy line, I still felt flustered beyond belief.

To the detriment of my nerves, I realized that with my brisk pace, we’d reached my family’s campsite. Luckily, Nick spotted me instead of Dad. “Willa!”

The loud volume could use some work, but Dad would have yelled too.

“Your brother?” Ralph guessed from my side, close enough that his arm brushed mine, watching Nick run up, panting and out of breath. If Ralph noticed the brush of skin, he didn’t say, but the small contact sent goosebumps trailing up my cool, damp flesh.

What had he been asking?

A visual reminder reached us, bent with his hands braced on his knees.

Oh. Right.

Did I want to claim Nick?

Well, he had called me Willa and not Willy, so he’d earned himself some leeway. “Yeah.”

Nick straightened. “Hi,” he greeted Ralph before tugging my hand. “We’ve been waiting for ages, and you take forever to get dressed! Let’s move.”

Sure enough, in a line that was twelve strong, our enlarged group idled on the forest boundary with my dad in the lead. Their timing couldn’t have been better—mine could have. I could have avoided this embarrassing interaction with my school peer if I’d been just three minutes earlier.

With irrefutable proof of needing to rush sitting there so impeccably, they’d provided the perfect excuse to flee the awkward situation.

I turned to Ralph as I started a daring walk backwards to where I’d shucked my gear, praying I wouldn’t wipe out but accepting the risk if it took me further from my own social ineptness. “Right, like I said…”

“No worries.” Ralph waved me off, his grin growing bigger. That threw me. What was so amusing? “Maybe we’ll see you out there.”

We?

God, I hoped not. He’d pretty much guaranteed there was at least one other person from our upcoming senior class, and I had a hunch it involved that gray Jeep at the far end of the campground.

I’d probably seen it in the school parking lot as the bus drove by, where I was crammed in with all the other unfortunate plebeians lacking a car or license.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” I shrugged. “It’s a big park.”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll manage.”

His words alone threatened to trip me, so I whirled around to watch my step. I didn’t need help falling if he kept throwing out loaded statements that made my wires misfire.

Nick assisted me with my gear. Well, he held the next piece out impatiently, hoping to hurry me along. “I didn’t know Ralph Buchanan rode out here.”

Of course Nick would recognize him. I barely knew anyone in the grade below me, but Nick was a people person like our dad.

“Me either.” I pulled the helmet over my head and climbed on the four-wheeler, my hands shaking so badly that it took two attempts to start it. Once it was running, I huddled toward Nick. “Is he gone?”

Forgoing any ounce of subtlety, Nick leaned over to check. “Yeah, he left.”

If I hadn’t been wearing my headgear, I’d have smacked my forehead. Boys had no clue.

Oh well, at least Ralph was gone and hadn’t witnessed my brother’s appalling lack of covert skills.

Wanting to gauge how far he’d gotten, I turned way around. With the helmet on, I had a limited range of view, so my neck popped before I saw anything. Immediately, a dozen curse words I’d never utter out loud flashed through my brain.

Nick had lied.

Ralph Buchanan hadn’t moved a single inch from where I’d left him on the outskirts of our campsite, and he’d caught me peeping—no ifs, ands, or buts. What else could I have been looking at on the coattails of Nick’s dead giveaway performance?

Ralph winked, unashamed, and I whirled away, trying my best not to freak out, glad that the helmet hid the worst of the furious blush staining my cheeks. I shoved my brother. It implicated me further, but what’d happened was already dead obvious—especially with how intently Ralph had been staring. If I didn’t let out some of the adrenaline from being caught red-handed, I’d throw up from the roaring butterflies swarming in my tummy, and Nick made an easy target since this was at least ninety percent his fault.

My shove didn’t even faze Nick. He only grinned wider before tipping an imaginary hat my way as he darted to the safety of Dad’s Jeep.

“Come on, chickadee!” someone shouted. “You can make moon eyes at your boyfriend later.”

Another person laid on the horn, causing the rest of the hive to mimic him. Luckily, the twelve-horn symphony saved me from having to hear Ralph’s reaction to being referred to as my boyfriend.

Wanting nothing more than to outwait the persistent boy but terrified of whatever embarrassing thing our riding companions would do next, I dropped into gear and sped off, praying I didn’t do something dumb.

It was the most nerve-racking part of the entire day, and I’d started the trip fully believing I had run over a person.