Page 60 of Seven Rules for Breaking Hearts

“Somehow, I don’t believe you.”

“I literally work for NASA.”

“Yeah. You’re their math boy.”

“Oh, that’s an official job title, is it? Math boy?”

“It is now.”

He extended a hand. “Lug wrench.” I searched the toolbox and passed it to him. I knelt beside him until he finished swapping the blown-out tire for the spare, smacking the thick black rubber as though to test it. “Should be good to go now,” he said to the others as he got back to his feet. He accepted the toolbox from me and went to stow it in the back.

“That’ll get us down the hill, maybe,” said the man with the armpit stains, eyeing the fresh tire with a generous dose of skepticism. “But there’s no way we can make it out to the buffalo on a spare like that.”

“On behalf of the company, let me just apologize,” said the driver hurriedly. “I can provide you all with vouchers to take one of tomorrow’s tours.”

While the driver did her best to sweet-talk the irritated passengers back into the vehicle, Declan walked back over to me. He folded his arms and leaned his back against the hood. Already the back of his neck and his forearms were looking a little sunburned, and the rest of him was soon to follow.

“Well, this isn’t exactly the date I had in mind,” I said apologetically, as though I could somehow have prevented this from happening. Maybe I really was cursed—it felt like the universe was conspiring against me, determined that any attempts at getting to know Declan should run aground. Which would probably be a fitting punishment for all the years I’d spent bashing commitment and doling out questionable advice.

He turned to our driver, who had successfully herded all but one of the women back into the vehicle. The last woman—the one shielding the top of her head with a magazine—was demanding compensation for heat exhaustion. “How much farther to the bison?” Declan called.

“Last we checked, they were maybe a mile, two miles that way,” the driver said, with a vague wave over the grassy hills. She looked happy for the momentary diversion, though the magazine woman was tapping an impatient foot. “But he’s right. There’s no way we’ll make it on a spare. We have to turn around, to ensure we can get all the passengers safely back into town.”

Now Declan turned back to me. “What’s that in hiking terms?” he asked in a low voice.

“Two-mile hike is maybe …” I shrugged. “An hour or so, if you’re making decent time.”

“Cool. We’ll hike it, then,” he said, loud enough for the driver to hear. “Thanks.”

With that, he started marching off in the direction of the bison.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t wait here to give you a ride back,” the driver shouted. “I have to get the other passengers back.”

“It’s fine,” I called over my shoulder as I hurried to catch up. “Don’t worry about us.” The Hummer hadn’t made it all that far, and it sounded like the herd was a little closer to Avalon today. As soon as we were out of earshot, I bumped arms with Declan. “You do realize we’re not even a little bit prepared for a hike, right? I mean, look at our shoes.”

We both glanced down. I was wearing sandals—my feet were already covered in dust and dirt, just from helping change the tire—and he was wearing a very run-down-looking pair of Vans. They might’ve been the same pair he’d worn in high school. I made a mental note to buy him a new pair of shoes, ASAP.

“Ah, we’ll live,” he said dismissively. “What are you worried about? A few callouses on your perfectly manicured feet?”

“It’s called a pedicure when it’s your feet, you absolute caveman. And getting a pedicure is very relaxing, by the way. You should try it sometime.”

He shook his head, laughing. “So, are we doing this, or what?”

I knew he was referring to the hike, but I couldn’t help my thoughts drifting, wondering what this was between us. I’d signed on for two weeks without the rules, but it was starting to look like things might extend beyond that. We’d talked last night at dinner about me visiting him at his apartment. Of all the realizations I’d come to this week, perhaps the most liberating was that I liked not worrying about the rules, or our listeners, or how this fit into our brand. And I liked spending time with Declan.

I just worried that there was a chance it would blow up in my face the moment I stepped off the ferry next week and went back to life on the mainland—back to reality.

He was still waiting for me to answer about the hike, his gait slowing. “There’s a very good chance I’m going to regret this,” I said, already imagining the long walk back. “But yeah. Let’s do it.”

CHAPTER22

We were sweaty and sunburned by the time we crested the final hill, where the herd of bison came into view. They were little more than fat brownish dots in the distance, grazing lazily in the late afternoon sun, but we didn’t dare move any closer. The sea of grass rippled in a light breeze, creating the illusion of greenish-gold waves separating us from the herd. Beyond, the cliffs of Catalina zigzagged against blue water.

“Wow,” Declan said, slightly winded from the climb. “Quite the view.”

I whipped my phone out of my pocket. “Here, get in a picture with me.”

He tilted his head toward mine to get in the frame. We wore matching cheesy grins, both looking sweaty and dirty and a little too proud of ourselves for finishing the hike. “Ew, that one is bad,” I said.