Page 34 of Off the Trail

I’m idling outside of cabin three. I’m supposed to be dropping Shawn off, but I don’t really want to say goodbye.

It’s been a big day, starting with pancakes and ending with chocolate cake. It was a good day. A great day, even.

I can think of only one thing that would make it better.

But Shawn Camden isn’t about to invite me in. And even if he did, I really shouldn’t say yes.

But god, I want it more than anything.

A couple of times today, I thought maybe he was looking at me a certain way. Maybe he was thinking what I was thinking—our dinner at Billie and Gail’s was kind of hilariously date-like. But I didn’t want to draw attention to it, didn’t want him to laugh it off or get uncomfortable. Instead, I let myself enjoy the fantasy that maybe this was a date to him. Even though I know it wasn’t.

I ought to find someone who’s actually available if I want a date so bad.

It’s just with Shawn here, there’s no reason to find someone else.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks.

“I’ve got chores to do in the morning, and then there’s Sunday supper at the main lodge around five. I skipped last week, so I should probably go.”

“Okay. I guess I’ll see if I can hire a car or something to take me to the woodworking class,” he says.

“Why don’t you take my truck?” I offer impulsively. “Then you can get some work gloves beforehand. Oh, you should get some protective goggles, too.”

“You don’t need your truck?”

“Nah, if I need something, I can use Brooke’s car. Then you can meet me at Sunday supper and give my keys back.”

“Wow, that’s—” He pauses and shuts his eyes for a moment. It looks a little like he’s in pain. “Uh, there’s something I need to tell you before I let you do that.”

“What’s that?” I order my racing heart to calm down. It’s not like he’s going to say something life-altering.

He opens his eyes only a crack, as if he’s afraid of witnessing my reaction to what he’s about to tell me. “So, I kind of crashed the last car I drove.”

I wait, but he says nothing else. “I’m going to need more information,” I prompt.

He opens his eyes all the way, mouth twisting ruefully. “I crashed my Lamborghini. It’s embarrassing. I wasn’t drinking,” he adds hastily, which I have to admit was my first thought, even though I’ve never seen him drink more than one beer in a sitting. “I wasn’t even speeding. I just kind of…lost control.”

“Were you okay?”

“Mild concussion. I’m fine. The car’s totaled.”

I take a second to process the various emotions pinging my heart, each one wanting to take precedence over the other, with worry finally winning out.

“So yeah, I thought you should know before you lent me your vehicle.” He looks around the cab of the truck, like him being in it taints it somehow.

“Are you a bad driver?” I ask.

His eyes widen as if he didn’t expect that to be my next question. “Doesn’t everyone think they’re a good driver? Even the bad ones?” A beat. “But yeah, I’m a good driver.”

I believe him. I don’t ask why he crashed, then. I’ve never driven something like a Lamborghini. Maybe they’re tricky to manage.

“Well, my Ford is no Lamborghini. And the worst trouble you can get into on these roads is if you come upon a deer or a moose. So keep your eyes open, especially at dusk, and you’ll be fine.”

“Really?” Again, he seems surprised. Maybe I’m a little surprised at myself, but I’m finding it hard to, well, be hard on him. Lending him my truck isn’t a big deal. Just because I’ve never lent it to anyone else before doesn’t make it a thing.

“I trust you,” I say. “I’ll come by tomorrow midday. I have some work to do around here anyway.”

“You sure? I could walk over.”