America noticed my gesture. “Yes, actually.”
“So … are you accepting my offer?” Travis teased.
“No,” America said without hesitation.
Yes. She’s perfect.
“What about my cousin?” Travis asked, shoving me so hard that I had to sidestep.
“C’mon,” I said, almost begging. “Excuse him,” I said to America. “We don’t let him out much.”
“I can see why. Is he really your cousin?”
“I try not to tell people, but yes.”
She scanned Travis and then turned her attention back to me. “So, are you going to tell me your name?”
“Shepley. Maddox,” I added as an afterthought.
“What are you doing for dinner, Shepley?”
“What am I doing for dinner?” I asked.
Travis nudged me with his arm.
I shoved him off me. “Fuck off!”
America giggled. “Yes, you. I’m definitely not asking your cousin on a date.”
“Why not?” Travis asked, feigning insult.
“Because I don’t date toddlers.”
Darius cackled, and Travis smiled, unfazed. He was being a dick on purpose to make me look like Prince Charming. The perfect wingman.
“Do you have a car?” she asked.
“I do,” I said.
“Pick me up in front of Morgan Hall at six.”
“Yeah … yeah, I can do that. See you then,” I said.
She was already saying good-bye to Finch and walking away.
“Holy shit,” I breathed. “I think I’m in love.”
Travis sighed, and with a slap, he gripped the back of my neck. “Of course you do. Let’s go.”
America
Freshly cut grass, asphalt baking in the sun, and exhaust fumes—those were the smells that would remind me of the moment Shepley Maddox stepped out of his black vintage Charger and jogged up the steps of Morgan Hall to where I stood.
His eyes scanned over my pale blue maxi dress, and he smiled. “You look great. No, better than great. You look like I’d better bring my A game.”
“You look average,” I said, noting his polo and what were likely his dress jeans. I leaned in. “But you smell amazing.”
His cheeks flushed dark enough to show through his bronze skin, and he offered a knowing smile. “I’ve been told I look average. It won’t deter me from having dinner with you.”
“You have?”
He nodded.
“They were lying. Just like me.” I passed him, heading down the steps.
Shepley hurried past me, reaching the door handle of the passenger side before I could. He tugged on it, opening the door wide in one motion.
“Thank you,” I said, sitting in the passenger seat.
The leather felt cool against my skin. The interior had been freshly vacuumed and polished, and it smelled like generic air freshener.
When he sat in his seat and turned to me, I couldn’t help but smile. His enthusiasm was adorable. Kansas boys weren’t so … eager.
By the golden tone of his skin and his solid arm muscles that bulged every time he moved them, I decided he must have worked outside all summer—maybe baling hay or loading something heavy. His hazel-green eyes practically glowed, and his dark hair—although not as short as Travis’s—had been lightened by the sun, reminding me of Abby’s warm caramel color.
“I was going to take you to the Italian place here in town, but it’s cooled off enough outside to … I … I just wanted to hang out and get to know you instead of being interrupted by a waiter. So, I did that,” he said, nodding to the backseat. “I hope it’s okay.”
I tensed, turning slowly to see what he was talking about. In the middle of the bench seat, secured with a seat belt, was a covered woven basket sitting on a thickly folded blanket.
“A picnic?” I said, unable to hide the surprise and delight in my voice.
He breathed out, relieved. “Yeah. Is that okay?”