He laughed again. “I didn’t really expect you to, you stubborn girl. But I’m not sure why not.”
I found myself surrendering again to his good looks and charm so closed my eyes against him. “What were y’all even doin’ there in the first place? And don’t tell me out cruisin’ the drag, cause I don’t buy it.”
He sighed as if debating, eyed my determined face to determine what he could get away with leaving out—nothing.
“We had a meeting with your father earlier,” he admitted. I stiffened instantly, so he explained, “We’re ambassadors for The Academy, so we met with him to introduce ourselves and go over how the program works.”
I turned to face the empty playground. “Kate . . . ” Pete stepped behind me and began to rub little circles on my shoulders, melting my resolve to hate him. “Have you ever felt like you were meant to do something?” I shrugged. “Like you were meant to be somewhere at a specific time to do something?”
Silence was my answer, but he had my attention. As if sensing this, he turned me back around. “I think most of the time life is just a series of random occurrences. But every-once-in-a-while, I feel like there is a specific purpose to my life . . . like now,” he said, eyes blazing. “Maybe that night, on your birthday, I was meant to be in that specific spot, at that exact time, so I . . . or I guess we could follow you.” I was slightly mesmerized by his gaze and his words. “And it’s a good thing we did, or else we might not be standing here having this conversation right now . . .” And now I was on the receiving end of the kind of look that makes you gulp.
“So you’re sayin’ it was fate?” I meant to say in a cutting tone, but ended up sounding more like a squeaky toy.
“Really, Kate, is it so hard to believe?”
I nodded my head, not trusting myself to speak. Gah! He was doing it again. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, press myself into his chest so I could fully enjoy the sensation of him. It was becoming like an addiction, and like most addicts, I didn’t want to stop (even though I knew I should). Instead, I stepped out of his embrace, instantly feeling bereft but needing the distance to concentrate.
“How do you explain the peanut butter sandwiches then?”
“Did you really just throw your hands on your hips?” he neatly countered my question with a question.
“Huh?” I demanded, refusing to be thrown off the scent.
Mama always said the devil is in the details . . . It was just a little bit too perfect—right down to the carrot sticks and grapes. He remained quiet, either stalling for time or allowing me to finish my little tirade. So I continued, “I gotta tell you—cuttin’ the crust off may have been just a tad overboard, don’tja think? I mean if you didn’t want to arouse suspicion, and allowing for the fact that I at least had a marginally average IQ.”
Pete spread his palms out. “Okay, you got me.”
“Ah-ha! I knew it! You were spyin’ on me!” I crowed, wondering why my chest was in the process of deflating when I was just proven right.
“You’re right—I already knew you were a vegetarian . . . because I asked Andrew yesterday what you like to eat.”
“What?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I confess—I was pumping your little brother for the 411 on you.”
Oh. Could the obvious explanation have eluded me because I was too prejudiced against his academy to accept an innocent answer? My angry tirade from a moment ago now seemed like a psychotic episode, and my face burned a little for being so vehemently on the side of wrong.
“Really?” My chest began inflating again.
“Really.” He nodded and grabbed my hand.
My heart instantly skipped a beat, the butterflies returning with a vengeance. “Why would you do that?”
“For a couple of reasons,” he said. “One, you weren’t exactly rolling out the red carpet for me, if you know what I mean.” He dropped my hand to start packing up, and I followed suit. “I knew I needed to clear the air with you after the other night, but you just continued giving me the worst case of the cold shoulder I’ve ever had.” He stopped packing long enough to frown at me. “So I thought I would invite you to lunch to get some alone time with you.”
“Not mentioning the fact that you played on my little brothers’ sympathies to get me here.”
A sly smile slid my way. “Yeah. I admit that was a dirty trick, but I was desperate.” Pete removed the thermos from my hand and held my gaze. “Kate, I couldn’t stand the thought of you thinking I was here to hurt you or your family—that’s sincerely not my intention.”
I quietly absorbed his intentions. And even though his eyes turned from earnest to something less benign, it was hard not to buy whatever he was selling when he was looking at me like that.
I cleared my throat a little. “What was the other reason?” His forehead creased, so I prompted, “You said there were a couple of reasons you were askin’ about me . . .” I held my breath, my heart hopeful.
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Not really.”
“Because I wanted to woo you, you silly girl.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he reaffirmed, then, re-grabbing my hand, he swung the cooler up with the other. “So I better get you back to school on time, or else your father will never let me court you. My guess is—he’s a real hard ass.”
I laughed. “What makes you say that?”
“I got the chance to meet former Sergeant Connelly in the flesh, and let’s just say . . . he made quite an impression.”
“He has that effect on people.”
Pete’s eyes sparkled. “So does his daughter.”
My face flushed. Unable to meet his eye, I squinted instead at the bright sky while sallying along in the breezy afternoon next to the second brightest object on the planet. When I found my voice, it was to tease him back.
“By the way, did you just recently escape from a Renaissance Fair?” Pete tilted his head quizzically. “You just used the terms ‘woo’ and ‘court’ back to back,” I said, in way of explanation.
He threw his head back, and the sound of his laughter sent a thrill of pleasure through me. “I guess I did.” He dropped another heart-stopping smile on me. “You seem to bring it outta me.”
I laughed, feeling so lighthearted I could’ve flown back to school. “Remind me to thank Drews later for being such a sneaky accomplice.”
The smile on his face momentarily froze before he quickly reanimated it. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“Why not?”
“Well, I sort of swore him to secrecy, and I don’t want him to think I was the one to break the bro-code . . . sort of a guy thing,” he explained.
“A guy thing, huh?”
“Yeah. It’s one of the first and foremost elements of male bonding— keeping the bro-code. Right up there with catching a football and learning how to spit properly.” Back at the truck now, Pete opened the door for me.
“I’m sure Andrew’s smart enough to figure out how to face downwind all by himself,” I said, hopping in.