Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Anna

Troy's friends and their kids are gathered around the fire when Troy and I climb up the path to the fire pit. Self-consciously, I run my hand over my hair, hoping I don't look too red or obviously turned on. Even though we've been back for several minutes, after Troy helped me out of the canoe, instead of letting go of my hand, he pulled me in for another kiss, and like at the cove, we didn't limit ourselves to a quick peck. At least the tent in his shorts isn't so obvious anymore.

Just thinking about that makes me feel like blushing, so I do my best to think about anything else.

Except the only thing in my brain is the way Troy's fingers are laced with mine as we approach the fire, and I see his friends noticing that fact. The man—Nick, I'm pretty sure is his name—perches on the edge of one of the Adirondack chairs, his little boy—Noah, right?—stationed between his knees, and they're both holding Noah's stick. The little girl who I'm pretty sure they called Shelby stands next to her mom, holding her own stick, and scolding her mom when she reaches out to keep it from dipping into the coals.

"Mo-oom," Shelby groans. "Stop it! I can do it!"

"Then you need to watch what you're doing," Tina responds calmly. "When you looked at Uncle Troy, you almost plonked your hot dog in the ashes. You don't want to eat an ash covered hot dog, do you?"

Shelby makes a face. "Gross, Mom! Of course not! Why would you even ask that?"

Tina looks at us, her eyes darting between Troy, me, and our joined hands, and gives us a smile. "Hey, Troy. Where'd you guys disappear to?"

"I was showing Anna around, and she mentioned she hadn't been on a canoe since she was a kid. I decided we needed to rectify that situation, so we paddled around to the cove."

With one eye still on Shelby, Tina gives an approving nod. "That's a nice spot." To me, she says, "Sorry about the awkward welcoming party earlier."

I wave off the apology. "Don't even worry about it. Your kids are adorable."

Tina smiles, though it's almost a grimace. "When they want to be, anyway."

Shelby glares at her mom. "I'm adorable all the time."

"Uh-huh. Sure you are," Nick deadpans. "Grab a seat, guys. Troy, there are more hot dogs and the other skewers up on the deck."

He ushers me to one of the empty seats with a hand on my lower back, then leans close and whispers, "Will you be okay while I get skewers and hot dogs?"

Biting my lip, I nod.

He studies me a second longer, but when I sit down, he accepts that. "Be right back," he murmurs, taking the stairs two at a time to get to the deck.

I can't help watching him go, enjoying the easy movement of his body, the way his clothes stretch tight across the length of his back, perfectly molding to his butt as he moves. The man is a work of art, and now I perfectly understand that dorky saying, "I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave."

When he disappears at the top of the stairs, I return my attention to the people around me and find Nick and Tina exchanging smirks over their children's heads.

"Whoa!" Nick yells, throwing out a hand, though he's too far away to reach Shelby's hot dog.

But it's enough to alert Tina, and she jumps into action, grabbing the skewer and raising the hot dog once again dipping dangerously close to the cinders and ash at the base of the fire.

"Mom! No!" Shelby yells, and I have to bite back a smile at her antics.

Tina leans close and says in a calm, but firm voice. "Shelby. We have talked about the importance of holding your hot dog up. You have to pay attention to what you're doing. If you can't do that, then either we will need to finish roasting your hot dog together, or I'll do it the rest of the way without your help."

Shelby has her arms crossed, her lower lip poked out in a pout. "I wanna do it!"

"Yes. I know," Tina says in that same calm voice. "I understand you want to do it yourself. And I want you to be able to do it too. But if you don't pay attention, you're going to ruin the hot dog, and we'll have to start over with a new one. Which wastes food and also means you'll have to wait even longer before you can eat. I don't think you want to do either of those things, do you?"

Tina waits patiently while Shelby stubbornly refuses to answer. Finally, Shelby lowers her arms, sighing dramatically. "Fine."

"What does ‘fine' mean?"

"Fine, I'll pay attention." She reaches for the skewer, but Tina moves it out of reach.

"This is your last warning," she says. "If it happens again, I'm taking over." I'm impressed by Tina's mom voice. I hear lots of parents interacting with their kids at work, and the level of calm this woman displays in the face of her child's intransigence is impressive.

Another heavy sigh from Shelby. "Okay, Mom." This time when she reaches for the skewer, Tina lets her take it, her hands hovering near the child as she positions herself to finish roasting her hot dog.

"Why don't you flip it over, kiddo," Nick says lightly. "The side you're roasting is going to turn to charcoal soon if you're not careful." He screws up his face in thought. "Although, that could be a new delicacy, maybe. On second thought, never mind. Make a half charcoal hot dog. It's got a nice ring to it. We could open our own series of food trucks. Troy needs something to do now that he's retired," he adds at the sound of Troy's footsteps coming down the stairs. "Whaddaya think, Troy? You wanna invest in Shelby's new food truck venture—Half Charcoal Hot Dogs?" Keeping one hand on his son's hot dog stick, he holds the other up, coasting it through the air like the name is on a sign or marquee somewhere.

When he first suggested Shelby do anything, I could see her immediate refusal forming on her face, but Nick's quick turn has her giggling.

"Daddy!" she protests. "Half charcoal hot dogs sound terrible! Why would anyone buy that?"

He looks thoughtful and shrugs one shoulder. "You never know unless you try. You could be a trailblazer with previously-unthought-of food combinations. What do you say, Troy?"

Grinning, Troy hands me a skewer and holds up two packages, one of regular all-beef hot dogs, and one of brats. "I wasn't sure which you'd prefer," he says to me. While I select a brat and stab it with my skewer, he glances at Shelby. "Your dad's right, Short Stuff. Food trucks can be big business. You want an investor?"

"Ew! No! I'm not going to make half charcoal hot dogs!"

Troy nods at her hot dog. "Then you might want to flip that thing over or else you will."

Finally, Shelby listens to the adults and turns her skewer over so the other side of her hot dog can cook.

Any lingering worries that joining Troy and his friends would be awkward are quickly wiped away. Nick and Tina are welcoming and friendly, their children are funny and chatty, and the evening passes with stories, jokes, beer and wine for the adults, and an abundance of hot dogs and s'mores for everyone.

Nick takes over helping Shelby roast marshmallows over the fire while Tina cleans up Noah, all of them telling me stories about life with a professional hockey team.

"I can't believe you've never even watched a game," Nick says, a mixture of wonder and something almost like hurt in his voice. He's finally sitting back in his chair, sipping a beer while the kids run around, finding sticks and pine cones to toss in the fire, both of them running off their sugar high from multiple s'mores and marshmallows. Noah only had one s'more, preferring just the marshmallows. Shelby had two, which I think was more to be like the adults than anything, but then had a few more roasted marshmallows. Both kids also just ate plain marshmallows, their little fingers sneaking into the bag and popping marshmallows into their mouths, giggling with delight when a parent would say, "Hey! Another one?"

But Tina's put the marshmallows away, closing up the bags and returning them to the deck. The sun has set, the sky a little lighter in the west still, but the sparks from the fire flow up, mingling with the light of the stars and sliver of moon.

I shake my head. "Nope. My parents were sports fans, but more football and baseball." I shrug. "Hockey was never part of the rotation, sorry."

Nick gives me an appraising look. "We might just have to rectify that situation." He points at Troy. "Make this guy take you to an Emeralds game next season."

I glance at Troy in his chair next to me. He's leaning back, also sipping a beer, looking at me with an expression I can't read on his face. Or maybe it's just that the flickering firelight makes it hard to read. "I'd be open to that idea," he says quietly.

The statement makes my breath catch, my lips parting to say something, but I'm not sure what.

Tina stands, distracting everyone from that brief moment, wine glass in one hand and the bottle in the other. "Want me to top you off?" she says to me, indicating my mostly empty glass.

But I shake my head. "No, thanks. I'm good." I've only had the one that Tina got me after I finished roasting my brat, but it was plenty big and I don't want to get too sleepy from wine before I have to drive home.

She smiles. "I'm so glad you came out tonight. It was nice getting to know you. It's getting late, though, and we've gotta get the munchkins cleaned up and into bed."

"Awww! Whyyy?" comes the immediate protests from said munchkins.

Nick drains the rest of his beer and stands too, sighing. "Because if you don't go to bed, how will you have enough energy for Uncle Troy to toss you into the lake tomorrow?"

"You definitely need good sleep for that," Troy chimes in. "I'll throw you as far as I can, and then you'll have to swim all the way back. Can't do that if you're too tired."

"Will you tuck me in tonight, Uncle Troy?" Shelby asks.

But her dad scoops her up and tosses her over his shoulder, making her squeal. "It's Daddy's turn to tuck you in tonight. Let's get you a quick bath. You smell like a campfire!"

I scoot to the front of my chair, readying myself to get up, but Troy puts out a hand to stop me. "You don't have to go anywhere," he murmurs. "Unless you're ready to go?"

Checking my phone, I see that it's a little after nine thirty. But the only thing on my agenda tomorrow is crepes with Brit, so there's no reason to go home already. Besides, I'm enjoying myself too much. I'm not ready to go yet. "I can stay a little longer."

He gives me a pleased smile, resting his hand palm up on the arm of my chair. Sitting back, I place my hand on top of his.

Tina, Noah planted on her hip, glances at us with a knowing smile before chirping, "Goodnight!" and heading up the stairs.

"Goodnight, you guys," Troy answers.

"Night!" I chime in, feeling like I need to say something.

We sit in silence, holding hands while they troop up the stairs, not speaking or moving until after the door to the house closes behind them.

Leaning closer, Troy lifts my hand and brings it to his lips, kissing the backs of my fingers. "Congratulations," he says.

Giggling, I raise my eyebrows. "For?"

He's still holding my hand in front of his mouth, mostly covering his grin. "Surviving."

I laugh at that. "Was my survival in doubt?"

He shrugs, still smiling. "Well, no. I knew you'd be fine. But you seemed nervous when you got here."

Biting my lip, I dip my chin. "That's true. I was." Glancing around, I lift one shoulder in a half shrug, highly conscious of the fact that Troy's still holding my hand, his thumb making soft sweeps across the back of my hand. "This is …" I pause, tilting my head back and forth as I search for the right words. "Outside of my comfort zone," I finish at last, looking at him.

His eyebrows jump. "Which part?"

I wave my free hand around. "All of it?"

He takes that in, staring at me for a moment, but doesn't push for me to elaborate. Instead, he tugs on my hand. "C'mere," he commands softly. "You're too far away."