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“Not as much bouncing.” Nigel’s answer came too quickly.
Anything that kept us talking. “This from the guy who likes to watch. I should’ve guessed.”
Megan’s sigh said she was accepting the conversation path, but not happy about it. “Even though there’s bouncing, there’s also punching. Hence theboxingpart of things.”
“Nude kickboxing classes?” Nigel asked.
That did sound less painful than actually punching people.
“Male? Female?” Megan was playing along now.
Nigel gave a quick nod. “Co-ed.”
Megan wrinkled her nose. “Now I can’t get that image out of my head.”
“You’re welcome.” Nigel sounded smug.
This was so much better than moping about whose lives I would or wouldn’t be part of long term. The conversation was ridiculous and I liked it. “Whenever you picture it, think of me.” It didn’t matter that the original idea was Nigel’s. I’d helped cement it in her thoughts.
“I have no idea how to take that,” Megan said.
I shrugged. “There’s no wrong way to take it.”
“I disagree.” Nigel put us in the carpool lane, and we had a clear path ahead of us as far as the eye could see. “When bouncy, dangly bits are getting punched, that’s wrong.”
“Or is it oh so right?” Megan leaned forward between the two front seats. “That’s not rhetorical. Please, tell me, because I have no idea what the goal is of nude boxing.”
“It’s wrong. It’sverywrong.” Nigel seemed to have done a 180 on the topic.
I laughed at the entire thing. “You were the one who suggested a sport that involved punching and exposed testicles.”
“And I take it back.” Nigel raised his hands in surrender. “Even someone as perfect as me makes the occasional mistake.”
When we stopped for gas in the middle of the state, we agreed it was warm enough to put the top down. The open-air car on the freeway made conversation impossible, but Megan’s giddy smile while she drove, the wind in our hair, and the cold air blasting away the warm sun made the drive perfect.
We reached the strip about four hours later, and parked in one of the dozens of lots.
“I want to shop,” Megan announced as we were climbing out of the car. “You guys get a room squared away, and we’ll meet up in a few hours?”
“You’re going to shop alone?” I felt like I was missing something. Did women shop alone? Or did she meanshopthe way I would, as inI’m here to buy that specific pair of pants and then I’m done. She distinctly saida few hours, and we’d come to another state on a whim, so I didn’t think this was thejust a pair of pantsoption.
Megan pulled her ponytail loose, and raked her fingers through windblown hair. It fell around her shoulders in messy, irresistible waves, and I had no idea how Nigel was keeping his hands off her.
Or how I was.
Pink dotted her cheeks, from both sun and excitement. “We disagreed over whether or not I could buy you a bagel. I’m not taking you shopping with me.”
“You did?” Nigel asked in disbelief.
I’d really rather forget that entire conversation. “Long story.”
“Finished story. It’s done and in the past.” Megan shouldered her purse. “I was going to take at least a day on my honeymoon to go buy cute clothes, by myself. I’m going to do that here, instead. I’ll text you when I’m done, and we’ll meet up and have dinner.”
That sounded easy enough.
Megan went in one direction, Nigel and I grabbed the bags, and went in another.
“Thanks for the save earlier,” I said as Nigel and I walked into The STRAT lobby. “With the…” Why was I bringing this up again?
