“Come on, Edmunds!” a loud voice boomed from the mall. “Stop scamming chicks and let’s go.”
Was he blushing? Probably. He wouldn’t want his friends thinking he was hitting on Bird Brain.
“See you tomorrow,” he called over his shoulder, practically running out the door.
“See you.” But by the time I got the words out, he was gone.
This stupid infatuation had to stop. I was Trina Clemons, future valedictorian of Sky Ridge High. I had plans.
Plans that didn’t involve any detours with slacker party boys who wore shoelaces in their hair.
Chapter Eighteen
Trina
Wednesday, June 12
Gillian’s scream almost shattered my eardrums, along with everyone else’s inside the Butterfly Pavilion. Hands flailing in her hair, she barreled down the winding path, crashing into people as she ran.
Unlike me, Slade jumped into action, shoving Max toward me then chasing after Gillian. Max tugged on my hand. Tears welled in his soft brown eyes, moistening his lashes.
“Why is Gilly screaming? Did the butterflies bite her?” His lip trembled.
I knelt down and wrapped my arms around him. “Of course not, sweetie. Butterflies don’t bite.”
He blinked away the tears. “But why did she run away?”
I sighed. I had no idea. Who was scared of butterflies, anyway?
“Let’s go find her.” A few people gave us weird looks as we hurried up the path. Guilt by association with the rampaging redhead.
Outside of the gift shop, Slade and Gillian sat on a bench together. Gillian leaned against Slade, crying her heart out. His arm wrapped around her tiny body and he bent toward her, whispering.
And here I’d been so certain that he’d be the slacker nanny and I’d be the superstar.
As Max ran toward Gilly the realization hit me that Slade was better at this than I was. He never flinched when things didn’t go according to plan, whereas I froze, or worse, flipped out.
If parents needed a sitter for a dinner date, I was perfect. But for an entire day full of unexpected detours and random freak-outs? Apparently, Slade was the go-to guy for that.
He glanced up and smiled at me. I saw a kaleidoscope of emotions when I looked in his eyes—reassurance, amusement….and something else.
My heart skipped a beat, causing me to literally stop in my tracks.
No. This could not be happening. I would not get sucked in by those unbelievable tiger eyes and that sexy mouth and that messy hair and the way he floated through life, charming everyone and—
“Trina?”
I stared at them, feeling like I’d wandered onto a movie set where I didn’t belong, waiting for a director to jump out and yell “Cut!” then usher me off the set.
“Trina, are you okay?” Slade looked concerned now, his dimple tucked safely away and a slight frown wrinkling his brow.
Gillian sniffed loudly. “Are you scared of butterflies, too?” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “I hate the way they fly in my face and hair.”
“I—um, no. I’m not scared. Just…maybe need some fresh air.”
Gillian slid off of Slade’s lap. “Me, too! Let’s go outside.” Suddenly she looked worried. “But not to the garden. No more butterflies. Let’s go to the parking lot.”
Max’s face crumpled. “I like the butterflies.”
Slade stood up. “Tell you what. Max and I will stay here and check out more butterflies. You girls go outside and inhale exhaust fumes until you feel better.” He winked at me, which did nothing to calm my nerves.
Outside, I tried to convince Gillian to check out the towering praying mantis sculpture, but she freaked out when a butterfly floated by. So we sat on the bench close to the pavement, inhaling exhaust fumes just like Slade had joked.
The drive back to Denver seemed interminable, especially once the kids fell asleep in the backseat and we didn’t have their nonstop chatter as a distraction.
Slade glanced in the rearview mirror and smiled. “Those two are a trip.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, careful not to meet his gaze when he looked at me. Maybe I could manage to survive the rest of the summer if I never made eye contact with him again.
“I never would’ve guessed Gilly would be the one to lose it today.” He laughed softly.
I shifted in my seat, trying to ignore how my stomach flipped over when he laughed. “You thought Max would lose it?”
He shrugged. “Max is a mystery man. I thought he might not like the up close and personal view, but he did.”
It was true; Max had loved the butterflies until he’d seen the exhibits of the dead ones pinned under glass. Then we’d had to deal with his tears, while Gillian declared that dead butterflies were sort of pretty, since they weren’t flying in her face.