Class Clown (The Thornback Society #4)

17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Ruby’s Truth: If you have the knowledge, you have to share it.

Nico had said the hike would take about forty-five minutes at ‘your pace’. I hadn’t been too insulted considering I was a semi-active, sort of plus-sized, thirty-something and he’d been in the Marine Corps until a few months ago. But here we were, a half hour in, and I was feeling a little sheepish about my ability to keep up.

It didn’t help that I kept stopping to point out pretty things. Mostly this was an attempt to keep from huffing so loud that he felt a duty to perform life-saving measures. Also, the further we got away from camp and up into the forested areas, the prettier I found it all.

“It’s like I’m sniffing one of those tree air fresheners,” I commented as I rubbed a hand up and down one of the ponderosa pines. “Don’t you love the way the needles crunch under our boots?” Nico handed me a canteen and I took a sip of gloriously cool water. “I wonder if the smaller forest creatures ever get pine needles stuck in the pads of their feet and have to pull them out with their teeth and then end up with a limp for a few days.”

He took the canteen back and screwed the top on. “It’s possible.”

We started walking again. “Do you think owls ever swoop down to catch a rabbit, or mouse, or whatever and get a mouth-full of pine needles?”

“It’s possible.”

“Is it possible that the Marine’s don’t chat while hiking?” I teased.

He looked over his shoulder at me, his ball cap shading his eyes, and quirked a lopsided smile. “It’s possible. ”

I scooped up a handful of pine needles and threw them at his back. They harmlessly fell before touching him. “Just so you know, I attempted to attack you with pine needles, but they weren’t effective.”

“Consider me wounded.”

“What was your favorite part of hiking with your fellow Marines?”

His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Getting there.”

I laughed. “I refuse to ask if we’re almost there.”

He glanced around and then down at some compass or something he had. I wasn’t really paying attention. “Yes, we’re almost there.”

“Do you regret taking me on this hike?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“How else was I supposed to learn that trees never die of old age, or that there’s the possibility of mice getting wounded by pine needles as they go about their lives?”

“Don’t forget about those poor owls.”

“Of course, the owls. I’ve been enlightened.”

I giggled and then stumbled as I toed a rock and ended up catching myself by slamming my face into the pack on Nico’s back.

“Ouch,” I muttered, righting myself.

He turned to face me and put his hands on his hips. “Did you just ram me?”

I rubbed at my sore nose. “I did.” I wrinkled it and wiggled it to make sure it wasn’t cracked or something. “I hope you learned your lesson.”

He leaned closer and used a fingertip to tilt my chin up to get a better look at my face. “It looks okay. A little red, but I always thought Rudoph was the best reindeer.” He ran that same fingertip lightly along my chin and dropped his hand.

I fisted my hands to keep from throwing myself at him, and started walking again. He caught up and passed me, once again leading the way, and I definitely did not rub at the place on my face where it still tingled from his touch. I hated people touching my chin area. There were hairs there that I pretended did not exist and now he’d felt them all prickly up against his hand. Still, it had been .

“Are you still upset about Quinn?” he asked once we were marching along again, me mostly distracted by watching birds soaring over the tall trees .

“It’s hard to say goodbye to the only guy I’ve ever been chased by,” I replied. “Quinn also might be a girl, but the principle remains. I usually do the chasing.”

“And then you feel like you get in trouble for it?”

“Yep.”

“Based on what?”

“Oh, you know, like twenty years of my life story,” I responded, kicking at a rock. “When I get old, I’m going to write a memoir and it will be titled Ruby’s Life: A Warning .” His chuckled floated over his shoulders back to me and I smiled.

“Tell me about it.”

“About my past love affairs?” I gasped. “Are you wanting to do girl chat with me?”

He looked over his shoulder. “Isn’t it a little sexist to think a guy wouldn’t be curious?”

I cracked a smile. “My apologies for my old-fashioned attitudes. Alright. Well, I’ve only had one actual boyfriend, and that was in college, and lasted six or seven months.”

“Why did it end?”

“He thought as much about himself as I thought about him, which was a lot. Trust me, I’ve been known to lose myself in a guy. But I realized that when both of you were focused on one person, it was lopsided and I was a second-class citizen. Not ideal for long-term happiness.” He made a noise of agreement, and I continued. “Other than him, it’s been one ridiculous thing after another. See a cute guy, chase the cute guy, start naming your babies in your head, force cute guy into your friend group for a few weeks, pretend to love all the same things he loves, find out cute guy doesn’t even have your number saved in his phone, take your heart back and scold it to be better.”

“Repeat for twenty years?”

I sighed loudly. “Sadly, yes. Something about learning from your mistakes seems to have passed me over.” We both chuckled. “What about you?”

“Oh, no, I’m not like your porcupine friend at all.”

“So, you don’t chase women?”

He shook his head. “No. I mostly observe and go over the logistics in my head before deciding it wouldn’t work out long term. ”

“Ah, the classic over-analytical wallflower maneuver. Respect.”

“It’s true that I’ve never been asked to dance at a ball and the gentlemen avoid me completely, so I guess I am a wallflower.”

I laughed out loud. Nico was funnier the more he opened up to me, and I was a sucker for a guy with a sense of humor.

“It’s all about keeping hope alive,” I said. “You have to put yourself out there and stop assuming it won’t work out. You go for what you want.”

“Like a porcupine?”

“Not exactly. You don’t want to go in armed with quills and scare people off. You want to be more of a bunny rabbit.”

“They poop when they get nervous.”

“Is that true?” I asked.

He shot me a look over his shoulder. “I had a rabbit as a kid. He pooped a lot.”

I smiled at him. “What was its name?”

He resumed walking, but our pace slowed and I found myself next to him rather than single-file.

“Lord Bunderton,” he answered under his breath.

I leaned closer, our shoulders brushing. “I’m sorry? Could you repeat that?”

“You heard me.”

“Yes, but I’d like it spelled out so I can have handkerchiefs embroidered for you.”

He looked sideways with a smile. “Don’t even think about it.”

“What did he look like?”

“Black with some white around his neck. He looked like he was wearing a little tux. So . . . Lord Bunderton. I usually called him Bunny.”

“It’s amazingly creative and truly obvious at the same time. You nailed it.”

Another tug at his lips. “Thanks.”

“Why are we talking about your pet rabbit?”

“Because I’m a wallflower?”

Amusement had me shaking my head, and then I tripped yet again, and before I could fully face plant into the forest his hand wrapped around my arm and held me up. I found my footing and blinked.

“This place is rough.”

“This place is paradise,” he replied .

I paused and looked around, happy to see the forest widening in front of us before opening up into a meadow where a few old wooden targets still stood, overgrown but visible. He didn’t try to get me moving as we soaked it all in.

“You’re right,” I sighed happily.

“I would picture places like this when I was out of the country on deployments. The peace and quiet, the cool air and green plant life. So many years were spent in the desert, and imagining places like this helped me relax.”

“Nature heals,” I agreed.

“If it wasn’t the forest, it was the ocean. I’d pretend that I was back in Galveston where the waves were warm and gentle, and the sky was sort of gray with humidity. I’d picture floating on my back and looking to the sky.”

I smiled to myself at the memories of weekend trips to the beach with friends and family. I’d always loved those days in the sun and sand, with the water lapping back and forth in its timeless rhythms. I hadn’t loved the diving pelicans as much, but you have to take the good with the bad.

“It must have helped a lot during those stressful times.”

He nodded. “It did.”

“When I’m stressed, I imagine I’m standing on a high viewpoint somewhere, overlooking a forest or city or the ocean, and I’m eating cake.”

“Cake?”

“Cake.”

“Any certain flavor?”

“I am not picky about cake,” I stated.

He smiled and reached for my hand, weaving our fingers together and giving me a gentle tug to start walking again. My heart thumped as my feet worked to keep up with my brain. His hand was warm and strong, and so easy to go along with. I felt like I was floating outside of my body, and I worked to remember all the reasons I needed to be cautious, but I couldn’t seem to dig up a single one of them.

After five minutes of walking silently together, we broke into the clearing and I looked around in awe. We’d stumbled into a private place where the stillness and warmth were so complete it felt like another world.

“Next time I need comfort, I’m picturing this place,” I said, reaching with my free hand to lightly caress the long meadow grasses with my fingertips .

“My dad took me camping a lot as a kid. He always sought out the primitive places like this. He’d love it here.”

We paused again, and I watched his profile as he took it all in too. His expression was the most relaxed I’d maybe ever seen it. His thumb ran along the underside of my wrist and I had to work not to react outwardly to the soft touch.

“It’s only you and your dad, right?” I asked.

He nodded. “My mom passed when I was a toddler. I have no memories of her, only pictures and occasionally a story. My dad is pretty quiet about it.”

“What was her name?” I asked.

“Sofia Rossi. She was Italian and met my dad when he was stationed in Europe. He said it was a whirlwind, which is hard for me to imagine because my father is very logical and orderly and slowwww.” He chuckled as he drew out the word. “But they married quickly, and had me within the year, and then she passed. He never remarried.”

“She must have been beautiful.” He glanced my way with a question in his eyes. “At least I’m assuming that’s how you were born as a beautiful human.” He flushed and looked away and I wanted to tease him out of the embarrassment. “Which means I’m assuming the terrible personality comes from your dad.”

He looked back with a smirk, and I was happy he took it for the tease it was. “Yes, we’re both wallflowers.” I laughed and he squeezed my hand.

“Are you close with him? Being just the two of you?”

His head tipped back and forth. “We get along, but we don’t dive deep. Cole calls us surface talkers, and that’s okay. Life with him was quiet, but calm.”

“So, he’s not all up in your business like my family? He doesn’t know your deepest fears and your biggest joys?”

He pulled a face. “We talk occasionally. He knows my favorite foods and keeps up with where I am and what I’m up to, which is more than a lot of people can say about their fathers.” He tugged at me again. “Come on, let’s go shoot something.”

We had to lift our feet high as we moved through the overgrowth, and I was grateful for his steadying hand, even though it was still making my heart beat extra hard. I realize that a lot of men think nothing of hand-holding, and Nico had been so casual about it that I could only assume he felt the same. I, however, had watched Mr. Darcy grab Elizabeths’ hand about a thousand times in the 2005 version of the Pride and Prejudice movie, and I was having to remind my head that this was not a declaration of interest on Nico’s part.

“So, did you move around a lot?” I asked him, gripping his hand tightly.

“Yeah. I was lucky that I was able to do all of high school in Texas,” he said. “Meeting Cole was a big deal. I hadn’t had many friends until him.”

“Yes, the fate of the introvert.”

“Exactly.”

“Our family must have felt really intense for you.” I laughed. “Neither of my parents have any volume control, and Cole’s pretty outgoing too.”

He shook his head. “It felt like your house was alive. I loved it.”

“Did you actually talk to my other family members? Am I the only one you were shy with?”

“I talked to Cole. I listened to your mom, and dad. I didn’t see much of Porter.”

That made sense seeing as I was mostly out of the house by then, and Porter was long gone.

We reached an area that was than the rest and stopped walking as Nico looked at the targets and seemed to be deciding where to set up shop. I wasn’t sure he remembered that he was holding my hand, but I didn’t mind. It was nice. Companionable with some sizzle.

“I never disliked you, Ruby,” he said suddenly, tearing me out of my daydreams. “And I wasn’t trying to freeze you out or something.”

I looked up at him. “Okay.”

“Okay. So can we consider that topic settled?”

I nodded and he released my hand as he shrugged out of his backpack and gave me a rundown of his plans. The next ten minutes or so were spent with him giving me basic gun handling instruction, along with safety procedures. I listened carefully, having been raised with a healthy respect for firearms. Also, as a nurse I’d seen gunshot victims during schooling and training and had no desire to see one again.

We made our way over to the targets to judge their structure and were happy to find they were still holding up. After another few minutes of tearing away at grasses that had grown around them, we worked our way back to our backpacks and then guns .

I’m not sorry at all to report that I don’t know what type of gun I used. I just knew it slammed against my shoulder harder than I expected and I took a step back. Nico was right behind me, and he placed his palms against my shoulder blades, keeping me upright as I squealed and held tight to the barrel. I totally missed the target. I put the safety on and pointed the gun to the ground before turning to Nico.

“This gun is a bully,” I complained, rubbing at my shoulder.

“It packs a punch.”

“I’m not going down without a fight. I’m going again.”

I turned back around and prepared everything. When I lifted it back to my shoulder, Nico stepped up close behind me and pressed a hand to the shoulder that would be taking the hit. He stabilized me - but kind of destabilized me at the same time, just sayin’ – and I took a deep breath before squeezing the trigger.

This time I was more prepared for the kickback and I only took a half step back, which put me right up against Nico’s chest. A sudden desire to snuggle back against him had me shifting my body until I was doing exactly that. He still had a hand on my shoulder, but his other hand gently came to my waist.

“You okay?” he asked.

His breath was warm against my cheek and I froze, taking in the sensation as his head dipped forward and his nose pressed behind my ear. The hand on my waist moved around until it was pressed against my stomach, and I let the gun fall forward until the tip of it was facing down once more as he tightened his hold.

I tipped my head back against his shoulder and closed my eyes as he pressed the lightest possible kiss to the side of my neck. My throat felt thick as his other hand moved from my shoulder, caressing down my arm before moving back up. He leaned closer, pressing a second kiss along my jawline, and I sucked in a breath, wondering what was happening and why I couldn’t think clearly.

Hadn’t I decided not to do this? Probably. That seemed familiar. But his fingers pressed into my soft stomach and I leaned heavier against him, tilting my head to the side to give him better access for another series of kisses along my neckline .

The sun was so warm on my face, and I had to think hard about holding on to the gun to keep us safe while he nuzzled up against my jaw and behind my ear, and I wanted to float away on this blissful moment.

“Ruby,” he murmured against my skin. “You’re so beautiful.”

Maybe it was the word beautiful that snapped me back. I’d had a lot of guys tell me that, and while I knew Nico meant it genuinely, and part of me was thrilled by that, some of the remembered hurts floated into the space.

I straightened, and bit my lips to keep from turning around to make this into a real kissing session. I’d learned my lesson. I was taking my time and waiting for the real thing. No more summer flings even if I was beyond attracted to this man. We didn’t live anywhere near each other.

His hands dropped from me and I fiddled with the gun, buying myself some time.

“You okay?” he asked in a husky tone.

“I’m great,” I said, carefully handling the gun before I took another distancing step and turned to face him. “What else do you have?”

His expression was confused, but he quickly wiped it clean and strode to his pack, where he pulled out another gun. I brushed off the feeling of his masculine body up against mine, his hold firm and secure, his lips soft and warm, and refocused on learning about this gun while I ruthlessly shoved down the attraction zipping between us.