“Some people don’t get it, sweetheart. But he’ll come around.”
Bobby makes one last check on the stairs to be sure they’re solid and stable while I text Doc to let him know we got busted and that stitches were required.
Doc: Tannen? Or you?
I laugh, amused that Doc assumes Unc did something to us.
Me: Unc. Sliced his hand on a screwdriver.
Doc: He went for stitches? Didn’t glue it up?
What is it with these guys? Glue is not an appropriate treatment for gashes and never has been. A second later, another text pops up . . .
Doc: On it. You tried.
I did. I tried so hard to do something nice, and Unc yelled and stomped and cussed his way around like a drunk, wayward sailor who got off at the wrong shore for leave.
But I’m nervous about his being at the hospital alone. Maybe I should go over there too? Sit with Doc and make sure that Unc gets home okay and eats some dinner? He said he came home and took a nap. Was it because they left early to catch the prime fishing hours or because he overdid it today?
My brain whirls and swirls. It’s not until Bobby puts his hands on my shoulders and bends down nose to nose with me that it stops. My brain quiets and I stare into his eyes. Deep, dark onyx unblinkingly stares back at me, steady and supportive.
“I know what you need. Get in the truck. I’m taking this date over.”
“Because I messed up so royally?” I say softly.
“No, because Katelyn was wrong. You need to relax and have some fun, and while I might not be able to get us in at the resort with zero notice, I do know a spot that’s perfect. Leave it to me, sweetheart.”
I do, because as much as I hate to admit it, it’s nice to have someone take care of me for a change. It’s a relief to simply sit back in the cushioned seat of Bobby’s truck and see where he takes me.
“Keep ’em closed.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting the desire to open them. We’ve been going for what seems like forever, first stopping by my place where Bobby quickly ran inside by himself to emerge with my camera bag before heading here. Wherever here is. The truck bumps along, and without knowing when to brace, my butt flies out of the seat a bit. “Whoo!” I scream, a little scared but a little . . . exhilarated?
Is that what this feeling is? And is it because of the wild ride across the field or because of the man at my side?
Both. Definitely both.
We come to a stop, and Bobby says, “Okay, you can open now.”
I open my eyes and look around to find a pond sunk into a low point in the rolling green pasture. On the far side, a few cows laze about on the bank, drinking and lying down in the surprisingly not-brown water. It’s not Caribbean blue or anything, but it does look fresher than I’d expect for what’s likely rain runoff and collection.
“A pond?” I ask, not sure why we’re here, though the scenery is pretty and my finger does itch to take a few pictures of those cows who are now mooing at the interruption of their afternoon dip.
“A spring-fed pond,” Bobby corrects, emphasizing the spring-fed part. “That means it’s clean enough to swim in.” He smiles and reaches into the back seat, pulling up my camera bag and handing it to me carefully. “I grabbed you a suit, and yes, that means I went through your dresser drawers. If you’re mad, get over it now or I’ll have to start calling you Hank.”
The message is loud and clear. He’s doing something nice for me, offering a distraction from the disaster today has been, and I shouldn’t argue about it like my stubborn uncle.
When Bobby had stopped at my little cabin and told me to stay put while he grabbed something, I’d given in easily. He’d come out with my camera bag, and I’d figured we were doing the wildflower pictures at the cemetery today.
But this might be better. It might be a lot better. Even if the worry about Unc is still sharp in my belly.
I mime zipping my lip.
“Good girl. I’ll step out so you can change, and I’ll meet you over there.” He points to a spot on the bank by a big flat rock.
He opens his door and grabs a moving blanket out of the back, shaking it out as he goes. I’m dumbstruck as I watch him stride toward the water and spread the blanket out. He glances back at me, and though the sun glints off the windshield, I feel like he knows I’m watching him.
He reaches behind his neck, pulling his T-shirt over his head in one swoop.