say it in the presence of, well, someone’s grandma. “It doesn’t mean what you think it means.”
“What does it mean?”
“I’m not comfortable saying.”
“Are you a prude, Chloe Madison?”
“No. Just respectful.”
Daisy sighed. “I’d hoped for fun.”
“I can be fun.”
“Prove it.”
“How?”
“Let’s go tubing.”
“What?”
“Inner tubing. Perfect day for it.”
Chloe turned a wary eye to the rippling water. “Isn’t that more of a summer sport?”
“It’s not officially fall.”
“But—”
“Think outside of the seasonal box, kitten.” She sprang up and corked her wine bottle. “Bert Hawkins owns a year-round recreation shop ten minutes from here. We can rent a couple of tubes and float down the river. Oh, don’t look so panicked. Sugar Creek’s not that deep or wide and you said you can swim. Not that you’ll have to. Just keep your butt in the hole, dangle your legs over the side, and let the current do the work.”
Chloe scrambled to her bare feet when Daisy tugged at the blanket. Her heart pounded as a dozen awful scenarios exploded in her brain. “I really don’t think … We just ate. You’re supposed to wait an hour—”
“Old wives’ tale. And besides, we’re not going for a swim. We’re going for a float.” Picnic basket over one arm, the blanket over the other, Daisy hotfooted it toward the Caddy.
Chloe pulled on her shoes and hurried to catch up. “You’ve been drinking,” she blurted.
“What are you? My FB or my mother?”
“I’m your companion and I’m concerned. What if you fall off?”
“Then I’ll climb back on or grab hold and scissor kick my way to shore.”
“Tube a lot, do you?”
“Used to. When I was a kid.”
Great. “Once we float downriver, how will we get back to the car?”
“I’ll tell Bert to have someone pick us up.”
Chloe felt like she was talking to a stone wall. Talk about stubborn. She took the basket and blanket from Daisy and placed them in the backseat. “We don’t have bathing suits.”
“We’ll improvise.”
Chloe racked her brain for another argument, something other than, I’m afraid you’ll fall in and drown. “Only if you wear a life jacket.”
“Only kids and old people wear life jackets.” Daisy braced her hands on her bony hips and raised those penciled brows. “Scaredy-cat.”
The taunt sizzled and burned. Did everyone have an opinion on her character? She was either too reckless or too cautious. Didn’t anyone think she was just right? Unreasonably ticked, Chloe wrenched open the heavy-ass driver’s door. “Get in and buckle up.”
SEVEN
Devlin stood in the middle of his grandmother’s living room cursing himself for not acquiring Chloe’s cell number. Prodded by his sister, he’d come to smooth things over. Only Chloe wasn’t here and neither was Gram. The Caddy was also missing. He glanced at the blue Samsonite sitting next to the front door. Assumedly Chloe’s. What had been so urgent that Gram hadn’t even allowed her new companion to unpack?
His phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number. “Devlin Monroe.”
“Hey, Dev. It’s Bert Hawkins. Sorry to bother. Called J.T.’s and was told to call you at this number, seeing this is about your grandma.”
“Go on.”
“I tried talking her out of tubing, but she was adamant.”
“Tubing? As in tubing down the river ?” He flashed on the days when he and Luke would tether their inner tubes to a small watercraft, usually piloted by one of their uncles or sometimes one of Bert’s summer crew. They’d shared many a wild ride, bouncing in the wake of the boat, sometimes going airborne. Sometimes wiping out. Heart pounding, Devlin blew out of the house. “What the hell, Bert? Don’t you have restrictions?”
“Sure. Age six and up and must weigh at least fifty pounds. I had no legal ground to refuse her, but Daisy’s had a lot of mishaps lately and, frankly, I’m not comfortable with this
“What does it mean?”
“I’m not comfortable saying.”
“Are you a prude, Chloe Madison?”
“No. Just respectful.”
Daisy sighed. “I’d hoped for fun.”
“I can be fun.”
“Prove it.”
“How?”
“Let’s go tubing.”
“What?”
“Inner tubing. Perfect day for it.”
Chloe turned a wary eye to the rippling water. “Isn’t that more of a summer sport?”
“It’s not officially fall.”
“But—”
“Think outside of the seasonal box, kitten.” She sprang up and corked her wine bottle. “Bert Hawkins owns a year-round recreation shop ten minutes from here. We can rent a couple of tubes and float down the river. Oh, don’t look so panicked. Sugar Creek’s not that deep or wide and you said you can swim. Not that you’ll have to. Just keep your butt in the hole, dangle your legs over the side, and let the current do the work.”
Chloe scrambled to her bare feet when Daisy tugged at the blanket. Her heart pounded as a dozen awful scenarios exploded in her brain. “I really don’t think … We just ate. You’re supposed to wait an hour—”
“Old wives’ tale. And besides, we’re not going for a swim. We’re going for a float.” Picnic basket over one arm, the blanket over the other, Daisy hotfooted it toward the Caddy.
Chloe pulled on her shoes and hurried to catch up. “You’ve been drinking,” she blurted.
“What are you? My FB or my mother?”
“I’m your companion and I’m concerned. What if you fall off?”
“Then I’ll climb back on or grab hold and scissor kick my way to shore.”
“Tube a lot, do you?”
“Used to. When I was a kid.”
Great. “Once we float downriver, how will we get back to the car?”
“I’ll tell Bert to have someone pick us up.”
Chloe felt like she was talking to a stone wall. Talk about stubborn. She took the basket and blanket from Daisy and placed them in the backseat. “We don’t have bathing suits.”
“We’ll improvise.”
Chloe racked her brain for another argument, something other than, I’m afraid you’ll fall in and drown. “Only if you wear a life jacket.”
“Only kids and old people wear life jackets.” Daisy braced her hands on her bony hips and raised those penciled brows. “Scaredy-cat.”
The taunt sizzled and burned. Did everyone have an opinion on her character? She was either too reckless or too cautious. Didn’t anyone think she was just right? Unreasonably ticked, Chloe wrenched open the heavy-ass driver’s door. “Get in and buckle up.”
SEVEN
Devlin stood in the middle of his grandmother’s living room cursing himself for not acquiring Chloe’s cell number. Prodded by his sister, he’d come to smooth things over. Only Chloe wasn’t here and neither was Gram. The Caddy was also missing. He glanced at the blue Samsonite sitting next to the front door. Assumedly Chloe’s. What had been so urgent that Gram hadn’t even allowed her new companion to unpack?
His phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number. “Devlin Monroe.”
“Hey, Dev. It’s Bert Hawkins. Sorry to bother. Called J.T.’s and was told to call you at this number, seeing this is about your grandma.”
“Go on.”
“I tried talking her out of tubing, but she was adamant.”
“Tubing? As in tubing down the river ?” He flashed on the days when he and Luke would tether their inner tubes to a small watercraft, usually piloted by one of their uncles or sometimes one of Bert’s summer crew. They’d shared many a wild ride, bouncing in the wake of the boat, sometimes going airborne. Sometimes wiping out. Heart pounding, Devlin blew out of the house. “What the hell, Bert? Don’t you have restrictions?”
“Sure. Age six and up and must weigh at least fifty pounds. I had no legal ground to refuse her, but Daisy’s had a lot of mishaps lately and, frankly, I’m not comfortable with this
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