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Things were going well last night. Very well. With that song playing, I was ready to bring up how I felt about her back then. How I still feel. And how that might lead to something starting between us now. For our future.
But she’d have to stop running away in order to have that conversation.
I take a sip of coffee just as Amelia’s car pulls into my driveway. I pick up her cup and take it to her, pausing as she rolls down her window. She accepts it from me gratefully before I move to the passenger side and get in the car.
“Thanks.” She squeezes her coffee cup between her hands and takes a sip, her eyes closing with blissful appreciation. “I hadn’t gotten any yet. I was hoping to pick some up on the way. You read my mind.”
“No problem.”
She shoots me a side glance. “Sorry about running out like I did last night.”
I almost ask why she did, but I don’t want to push her for an answer she might not be ready to give. Better to pretend that I don’t care. “No worries. My mom made lasagna, so I was glad I didn’t miss it.”
She nods. “Your mom’s lasagna is great. I remember.” She looks like she wants to say something else, but I glance out the window.
“We should get going,” I say.
She bites her bottom lip, her straight teeth sinking into its softness. I remember her braces in sixth grade, and her front teeth losing their slightly beaverlike bite. Sometimes I miss it. “Yeah. Sure.”
She backs out of the driveway and drives us to the wrestling school. This time it’s open.
We enter Waylon’s office, and the man behind the desk looks up. He’s got a solid build and is definitely more muscled than the average guy, but he doesn’t look like the pro wrestlers you see on TV. A CCWE T-shirt stretches tautly over his chest. “Hey, you two. Sorry I missed you yesterday. Bud said y’all were after your next clue.”
“That’s right.” Amelia stands up straight like she’s prepared if he asks her to audition.
He nods and grabs an envelope from the shelf behind him. “Here you go.”
She sticks her hand out and takes it from him.
Waylon scratches his scruff of a beard. “Say, would you two like a wrestling entertainment lesson while you’re here? Free of charge. I’m working up these date packages now—couples can take a lesson. I’ll even have Groupon deals. It’ll be a fun date.”
“No, thanks,” Amelia says without looking at me. Her cheeks turn pink. “We’re in a hurry to get to the next clue.”
Sure, she’s in a hurry. To get far away from me. Guess we aren’t past whatever drove her off last night. It puts an ache in my gut.
Waylon nods. “I get it. Don’t have too many left now, do you?”
Amelia perks up. “Don’t we?”
Waylon chuckles uncomfortably. “Not quite sure. Best get to the next one, I suppose.” He jerks his head toward the envelope in Amelia’s hand. “Good luck with that.”
“Thanks,” Amelia and I say at the same time. We wave goodbye to Waylon, and Amelia practically skips back to the car.
“Not too much left to go, it sounds like.” She smiles.
My gut churns. Once we have the book, Amelia will no longer need my help. Then I guess it’s extreme disappointment, heartbreak, and hanging with Mom and Dad until it’s time to go back to Chicago. Maybe I can think of a way to make the hunt last longer. Or maybe I should just enjoy it while I can. At least she’s smiling now.
Amelia waits until we’re both back inside the car before opening the envelope. She holds the clue between us so I can read it along with her. I lean in close until I can smell the coconut scent of her hair. I never knew how much I loved coconut.
I’m handy, but I’m not soft.
I’m no biker, but I love a loft.
I have no idea what the clue means, but I see the wheels turning behind Amelia’s sea-green eyes.
“Okay, there aren’t too many lofts in Cherry Creek.” Her head leans side to side as if weighing the options. “There are some barns and haylofts outside of town. We don’t have a ton of loft apartments like NYC or other big cities. But there are a couple of lofts over a few of the stores on Main Street.” She stares out the window. I give her time to think.
After a minute, she hits the top of the steering wheel with the flat of her hand. “It’s Harley at Harley’s Hardware. It’s got to be. He lives in the loft above his store, and hardware isn’t soft.”
