Chapter 17

Megs stared as Gideon approached the tractor now stopped on the shoulder, still blocking over half the road. She could’ve sworn the asphalt was shuddering along with the growls of the engine. Since she couldn’t hear a word they were saying, she waited awkwardly until Gideon waved for her to come over.

“He’ll take us into town!” Gideon shouted over the guttural roar.

“I don’t see any seats!”

“What?” Gideon leaned closer.

“I don’t see any—” Megs waved her comment off when Gideon still wasn’t getting it. He reached out for her hand and helped her clamber up into the cab. She didn’t see any seats because there weren’t any. Not enough for both of them, anyway.

“Hop on in!” The farmer was in overalls and a worn baseball cap. He motioned to a single seat directly next to him but lower to the cab's floor. It looked like a sidekick car attached to Batman’s motorcycle.

Before Megs could protest, Gideon pressed up against her back.

“I’ll get in first! You can sit on my lap!”

Megs sputtered something, but it was lost in the thunder growl. Gideon sat and held out his arms like she was a kindergartner getting ready to sit on Santa’s lap. Except this Santa was extremely attractive with or without glasses.

Megs started to sweat as she took off her backpack and dropped into his lap. His breath whispered against her neck, which was not helping her current hot flash. He reached around and took her pack, setting it next to his on the floor at their feet. Now she didn’t know what to do with her hands.

The tractor groaned beneath them, and as they lurched forward, she grabbed onto the armrests only to find them warm and softer than she imagined. She was holding onto Gideon’s forearms.

Megs sucked a breath and let go, then jostled and grabbed back on so she wouldn’t tip.

“Here!” Gideon shouted. He pulled her hands down to hold onto the edges of the seat, then wrapped his arms around her waist.

Megs immediately felt grounded. Solid. She drew a deep breath and tried to force herself to relax. She was sitting on Gideon’s lap. His arms were around her, and her back was pressed up against his chest.

And that chest was inviting. He was warm and strong. Solid. Was she too heavy? She pushed up on the floor with her feet to try and take some of the pressure off his thighs.

“Stop. You’re not going to hurt me.” Gideon called, his lips inches from her left ear.

Megs nodded and sank back into him. The tractor cab smelled of hay and turned earth, but she still caught a whiff of whatever it was that Gideon wore. Lotion? Cologne? She still couldn’t decide, but it was subtle and almost smoky. Woodsy and sweet. Like the cigars Frank smoked sometimes.

She felt lightheaded. Drunk on this feeling of him wrapped around her from shoulders to calves. It took everything in her power not to lean into him and drag her hands over his thighs. Megs clenched her jaw and forced herself to look at the dashboard. Out the window. Anything that distracted her from her insides liquifying with each breath Gideon took.

Their driver wore muffs over his ears, and yet still insisted on turning and trying to talk to them. Megs felt responsible for carrying on this one-sided conversation since Gideon’s face was smushed up against her back.

The man’s bushy gray mustache bounced, and his arms gesticulated as they lumbered down the road toward town. Megs caught the words “chickens” and “fox” at one point, and her mind ran wild with how they could be related to each other. Every possibility didn’t end well for the chickens. She focused so hard on reading his lips that she could almost convince herself that that wasn’t Gideon’s breath against her neck.

Then Gideon shifted his hands, and his arms brushed against her ribs. Megs’ heart lurched in her chest, and she prayed Gideon couldn’t feel it. He turned his head and brushed against her hair, then moved his leg and she slipped a bit deeper into his lap.

Gooseflesh prickled her skin. This was torture. She knew what those hands felt like on her body as more than a seatbelt, and all she’d have to do was lean back and—

Megs clung to the seat for dear life and focused wholly on the farmer. His eyebrows looked like they hadn’t been plucked in a decade. His jowls jumped in perfect unison with the engine rumble. She still couldn’t make sense of what he was saying, but she gritted her teeth and concentrated on the stitching of his overalls.

It wasn’t until they stopped and the tractor sat idling that the man turned and yelled, “Convenient that they lay eggs and poop out of the same hole! Gotta love the cloaca!”

Megs plastered a grin on her face and nodded emphatically, pretending she’d been thrilled by his speech over the past ten minutes and not imagining stripping Gideon’s shirt off and running her fingers over every contour of the chest pressing against her back.

"Learn something new every day," Megs yelled back as she launched herself out of Gideon’s lap so fast, she almost hit her head on the ceiling of the cab. She reached for her bag, but Gideon stopped her.

“I’ve got it!”

Megs nodded and made her way down to the ground. Gideon followed, holding both their bags. He shook the farmer’s hand as Megs worked to get her breathing under control. The man nodded, then shut the door to the cab as Gideon dropped off the steps and stood next to her.

Megs ran her hands through her hair, sweating more now than she had on their hike. Gideon started toward the gas station as the tractor continued on its way. Megs’ ears were ringing, so it took her a moment to realize Gideon was laughing next to her.

“What?”

He shook his head and rubbed his forehead. “That was . . . something else.”

Something else. That was one way to describe it. “You didn’t have to pretend to listen to that guy’s chicken stories.” Megs set her pack on the concrete and stretched out her arms to avoid undressing Gideon with her eyes. His shirt was slightly askew, and he’d rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. He looked like he was about to chop wood or offer to fix someone’s radiator.

Gideon exhaled. “Was that what he was talking about? I could see his mouth moving over your shoulder.”

Megs’ looked anywhere but directly at him. “Do you think there could’ve been a normal vehicle coming down that road? Did we have to choose the tractor?”

Gideon held up his hands. “All I’m saying is that we’re here in town and we didn’t have to walk two miles.”

“Great point.” Every moment over the past hour swirled through her head. What had he been saying on the road? He was half happy? Suddenly, she was dying to know what would fill that void. Megs looped her thumbs in her backpack straps. “Thank you, Gideon.” She caught herself, and her cheeks heated. “I mean, thank you, Professor Adams. I’m sorry, I—”

“Gideon’s fine, Megs.”

Megs nodded and pursed her lips. She looked down at her watch just as a silver Corolla pulled into the station and stopped by the pump. Almost one o’clock. “Is it my turn?”

“Your turn for what?”

Megs whirled and walked up to a middle-aged man who’d just stepped out of the car. “Hey, are you by chance heading into Sugar Creek?”

“I’m on my way to Charlotte.”

Megs grinned. “Would you be willing to give us a ride to the Sugar Creek train depot since it’s on your way? The train broke down and I have an appointment to get to.”

The man looked skeptical, so Megs pulled off her pack and dug around for her wallet. “I can give you a ten for gas?”

He drew a deep breath, then finally nodded. “Both sit in the back if that’s all right.”

Megs nodded and handed him the bill. It wasn’t until that moment that her nerves kicked in. What was she doing? Riding with two strangers in one day? Somehow, having Gideon with her made it feel less dangerous, but she logically knew that wasn’t the case. What was Gideon going to do if this guy tried anything funny? Lecture him to death? She was instantly envisioning both of their bodies lifeless, sprawled at unnatural angles in the bottom of a ditch.

Gideon walked over, and Megs motioned for him to follow her to the opposite side of the car. “Will you wait a second while I try the door?” she whispered.

Gideon’s brow furrowed, but he nodded. Megs got into the back seat and closed it, then opened it again. She motioned for Gideon to scoot in next to her.

“What was that all about?” he asked when the door was shut again.

Megs scrunched her nose at the smell of old air freshener mixed with stale cigarette smoke. “I had to make sure the child lock wasn’t on.”

“Child lock?”

“Yeah, it’s a little button you can press on the inside of the door that makes it so people can’t open the door from the inside.”

Gideon nodded slowly. “You were making sure we weren’t being kidnapped.”

“Exactly. It’s the responsible thing to do.”

“When hitchhiking with strangers.”

Megs pursed her lips. “This was your idea, if you remember?”

The driver’s door opened. “I’m Mike. Thought we ought to know each other’s names if we’re going to spend twenty minutes in the car together.”

“I’m Megs.” Should she have given a fake name? They should’ve made up characters and backstories in their thirty seconds alone in the backseat. What a missed opportunity.

“Gideon.”

They clicked in their seatbelts as Mike pulled away from the pump and turned left to Sugar Creek. This time there was a full seat between them, which made it easier to avoid thinking about Gideon’s chest . . . or hands.

Megs pulled up the map on her GPS, just in case Mike took a wrong turn, they could open the door and dive onto the shoulder of the road. Tumbling through gravel shards had to be better than ending up in some crazy person’s panic room.

Gideon nudged her thigh with his. “You okay?”

Megs leaned in a little closer and nodded.

“What kind of appointment do you have this evening?” Mike asked.

“It’s a class, actually. I’m graduating tonight.” She grinned smugly at Gideon.

“Graduation. From College?”

Megs shook her head. “No, just a certification course.”

“Not ‘just’ a certification course.” He shot her a look.

“Well, good. Those colleges these days . . . ” Mike didn’t finish his sentence, but based on past experience with customers in Green Mountain Grinds, any conversation that followed a statement like that was either bound to be fascinating or horribly offensive.

Megs couldn’t help herself. “What about them?”

Fifteen minutes later, Gideon’s face was turned to look out the window so Mike wouldn’t see the tears streaming down his cheeks from laughter. Megs sat perched on the edge of the backseat, listening intently.

"See, what they don't want you to know is that aliens have been among us for centuries!" Mike exclaimed, eyes wide with conviction. "You ever heard of the lizard people?"

Megs slapped her hands on her thighs. “I haven’t, but it looks like we’re here.” She pointed at the square. “You can just stop here on the street and we can walk across.” That conversation had been one for the ages, and she was legitimately disappointed to have to cut it off. Mostly because watching Gideon struggle to keep his composure made her insides fizz.

Mike pulled the car over and put it in park. “Well, look it up. You’ll be shocked at what’s been shoved under the rug.”

“Mmhmm.” Megs unclicked her seat belt and slung her bag over her shoulder. “Thank you so much for the ride, and I’ll definitely check it out.”

“Good luck at graduation, Megs! Nice to meet you Greg!” Mike waved goodbye as they slid out and stepped onto the curb.

Megs snorted as soon as Mike flipped a u-turn at the light and headed back the other direction. Not getting murdered in the end made the whole ordeal hysterical.

Gideon exhaled. “How did you keep a straight face during all that?”

“It’s called acting, Greg.”

Gideon clutched his stomach. They walked past the fountain, and Gideon pointed at the workers switching out the lights. “What are they doing?”

“Switching out the fountain colors for Halloween. It’s a Sugar Creek tradition.”

“It’s not even October yet.”

“We’re ambitious.” Without thinking, she nudged him with her elbow. “You don’t live that far, and I know you said nobody comes to Sugar Creek for a reason, but did you ever think to come down here for things like that?”

“Holidays?”

“Yeah, all the cheesy traditions like the fall festival, pumpkin patch, and tree lighting. Or does Shelburne have those?”

“Some. Doesn’t have this small-town feel, though.” Gideon’s eyes narrowed. “Why don’t you go to them?”

Megs scoffed. “How do you know I don’t?”

“Do you?” He raised an eyebrow.

“No, absolutely not.” Megs laughed, and Gideon waited for her to continue. Again, she debated giving a cliche answer, but something about sitting on a man in a tractor made it impossible to raise her defenses. “I don’t go because it’s lame to do it alone. My mom always tried to guilt me into going with her until she got serious with her boyfriend. Now, miraculously, she’s off my case. Your parents don’t pull those cards with you?”

Gideon shoved his hands in his pockets as they approached the parking lot. “My parents retired in Arizona three years ago.”

Megs stopped in front of her car. “You don’t have any siblings here?”

“Younger brother is in Florida, and my younger sister is in medical school in Milwaukee.”

Megs’ eyes widened. “Medical school. Wow.”

“I know, I’m intimidated, also.”

Megs grinned and pulled her bag off her back. “Well, that was quite the day.” Her heartbeat sounded hollow against her ribs. She should thank him and get in the car, then go home and shower, find something for lunch so her stomach didn’t eat itself, then drive up to Champlain. But the words wouldn’t come.

Gideon scuffed his hiking shoes on the yellow line on the asphalt. “It’s been a long time since I laughed that hard.”

“Me, too.” Get in the car. Go home. Megs couldn’t force herself to move. She looked up, then frowned. The parking lot was mostly empty this time of day, especially since there was a large sign posted in front of the depot announcing the delay with the Rambler.

She didn’t see Gideon’s Volkswagon. “Where’s your car?” She remembered that Gideon and Alli had gotten out of the same car that morning in the middle of her question, and blushed. “Sorry, forgot you came with Alli for a second.”

Gideon ran a hand through his hair and nodded. “It’s all good, I’ll walk through the shops. Maybe get a coffee.”

“Oh, you’ll be severely disappointed after the kind of service you got last time.”

His lips twitched. “I have no doubt.”

Megs clenched her fists over the strap of her bag. There was that feeling. Like she was about to jump off the high dive. Bad idea. “You could ride back with me. If you want.”