Nate picked me up in the same car I rear-ended in September. He walked up to my house and rang my doorbell and met Baxter, who liked him instantly. A good sign. The fifteen-minute drive had me hyperaware. Of my body, of his body, the closeness of our arms as they rested on the console. And holy cow, he smelled good. We agreed to meet William and Bridget at seven in front of the barn entrance, where the Sawyers sold their tickets—for the petting zoo, hayrack rides, a barnyard haunted house, and of course, the corn maze.
Gravel crunched beneath Nate’s tires as he parked in the makeshift lot. Nate told me to sit tight and came around to open my door. The night was chillier than normal for mid-October. Enough that I’d worn my winter coat and a scarf. Nate had on a corduroy jacket that fit him well. Even though my hands were freezing, I kept them out of my pockets. We walked toward the big red barn, puffs of frozen breath escaping into the dark, our knuckles every bit as close as our arms had been on the console.
I spotted William and Bridget first. They waved hello as we approached. I had called my brother earlier and given the two of them strict orders not to ask how Nate and I met, that it was too embarrassing to bring up. I blew heat into my palms and rubbed my hands together as the four of us stepped inside the barn. There wasn’t a very long line. The cold had chased a lot of people away. I reached inside my coat pocket to remove the twenty-dollar bill I’d stuffed inside, but Nate removed his billfold and asked for two tickets to the corn maze. I protested. “You’re my guest. That means I should pay.”
“But I invited myself, remember? And there’s no use arguing. My last name is Gallagher. We Irish are stubborn folk.”
I peered up at him. “You don’t look Irish.”
“That’s because I take after my mom, who is Italian. I’m afraid Italians are every bit as stubborn as the Irish, which means I have a double dose of it running through my veins.” He winked. “Another one of my faults.”
Once the tickets were purchased, the four of us strolled to the maze entrance. Stadium-type lights had been set up around the periphery, casting enough glow down onto the cornfield that we could see. The girl who took our tickets asked if we wanted maps. Nate declined, insisting it would be cheating. As soon as we stepped inside, we were faced with one of two choices—left or right.
“I have an idea,” William said. “Bridget and I go left. You two go right. Whoever comes out last buys the other couple hamburgers at Patty’s afterward.”
Nate looked down at me, that irresistible twinkle in his eyes, as if to say it was my call.
“You have yourself a deal,” I said.
William grabbed Bridget by the waist and hurried left. They disappeared to the sound of her giggling.
Nate and I were officially alone. Surrounded by giant stalks of corn.
We started off, this time with my hands in my pockets. Even if the air between us did spark with heat, it was too cold to leave them out. Off in the distance, some teenagers shrieked.
“Number of gum sticks you’ve stuffed into your mouth at one time.”
Nate’s brow furrowed. “What?”
“Twenty-four.”
He laughed. “Do I have a big mouth or something?”
The darkness had me feeling bold. “You have a nice mouth.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
We reached another fork in the path. Nate let me pick. I chose left.
“Number of Audrey Hepburn movies you own?”
He laughed again. “I don’t think she’s in that many movies, is she?”
“I don’t know. You’re the classic movie expert.”
“You’re not an amateur yourself.”
The wind rustled the corn. Crickets chirped a slow melody. The cold had slowed down their leg-rubbing.
“What got you interested in them?” I asked.
“My college roommate freshman year. He was a film student and absolutely obsessed with Judy Garland. I’m not kidding. He covered his entire side of the room with posters of her. It was weird. He was always watching the old black-and-whites.” We came to another fork. Nate chose right. I don’t think either of us was in a hurry to get to the end. “I started watching them with him and discovered they were pretty great. The interest stuck.” Nate picked up a stick and dragged the tip along the stalks. “What about you?”
“My dad was a big fan. We used to curl up on the couch together and watch them. One time, when I was in fourth grade, I was sick with the stomach flu for an entire week. He stayed home with me and we had a movie marathon. Started with musicals—Singing in the Rain, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. Then we moved on to some others. He was a quiet man—my dad. But a big romantic at heart.”
Nate raised his eyebrow. “Like his daughter.”