This time I threw my head back and laughed with gusto and shocked delight. This was the second time he’d done this, surprised me with his audacity. On Thursday, when he’d shown up at my work with the Mustang, I figured he was just trying to get a rise out of me, but now I saw this new banter for what it was. Duane Winston was funny. And a flirt.

In all the years I’d known him, and all the arguments and shouting matches we’d had, I never would have guessed that Duane was this funny. Or a flirt.

Sly? Yes.

Smart? Certainly.

Serious and stern? Undoubtedly.

Funny and flirty? No.

He was full of surprises.

As my laughter lessened and morphed into large grin, I turned in my seat and studied him openly. I had to shake myself a little. Before last Friday, never in my wildest—or strangest—dreams could I have imagined that Duane Winston would ever be interested in me, not because there was something wrong with me, but because he always left me with the impression that I irritated the bejeebus out of him.

Just like I never thought in a million years I’d be so completely drawn to him.

But here I was…

“What? What’s wrong?” He frowned at my examination, sparing me a quick glance as he turned right onto the Parkway.

“Oh, nothing.” I kept staring at him…but not him. I was looking for the Duane I remembered, the one who barely tolerated me, picked verbal sparring matches, and put lizards down my Sunday school dress. “I guess, it’s weird. Right? I mean, you and I grew up together. We used to run around these forests with the other Green Valley kids like a pack of wild animals.”

His subtle smile was back, but this time it looked nostalgic. “So?”

“So, here we are. We’re adults. And we’re out together.”

“We went for a drive on Thursday and you didn’t seem phased by it.”

“Yeah, but this is a date. See, I know you—I could tell anyone who asked that you’re a terrible swimmer, or how you drive too fast, or how you got that scar on your right arm, or that you’re better at baseball than any of your brothers—but I don’t know you. It’s like being on a date with two different people, the boy I knew and the…the,” I stuttered, then paused, stopping myself just in time. A slight rush of embarrassment made my tongue lame because I was about to say, and the sweet, gorgeous man you’ve become.

And that would have been a bizarre thing to say at the beginning of a first date. Honest, but bizarre.

“And the what?” he prompted, sliding his eyes to mine as he came to another straight stretch on the mountain road.

I cleared my throat, my chest a sudden and odd combination of achy and fluttery. “The kid I knew, and the man you’ve become. I don’t know this new you very well. It’s a bit disconcerting to feel confident that I know all about you, but have no idea who you really are.” I glanced down and frowned at my purple nail polish, certain I was making a mess of my thoughts. “I’m not explaining this very well.”

Duane reached over and grabbed one of my hands, sending a warm jolt up my arm and to my ribs.

“You’re explaining things just fine.” He squeezed my fingers and gave me a quick, reassuring smile. “When we were at the lake last week and I told you we’re different now, both of us have changed, that’s what I meant.”

“But don’t you think it’ll be weird?”

“So what? So it’s weird. Weird can be good.”

“We grew up together. I mean, when we were kids I saw you naked like…,” I counted in my head, “three times. Maybe more.”

“Is this your way of telling me that you don’t want to see me naked for a fourth time?”

I answered emphatically and without thinking, “Oh, hell no, you should be naked all the time.”

Duane’s grin was immediate; but his laughter was stifled, like he was trying to contain it. I rolled my eyes at myself once I realized what I’d just said and let myself feel appropriately embarrassed. My head fell back on the seat and I closed my eyes.

“See now, here’s the problem. I would never say anything like that on a first date, or even a tenth date.”

“I still don’t see a problem.”

“I’m too comfortable speaking my mind around you. Speaking my mind to Duane Winston is not just my default, it’s a moral imperative.” I announced this to the windshield as I opened my eyes and stared at the fall foliage lining the narrow road. Brilliant streaks of red, dark purple, orange, and yellow—a beauty I’d taken for granted as a kid—blurred together as we sped by

“That’s just because you’re used to arguing with me.”

“Yes. Exactly. First dates are like a job interview. It’s about putting your best foot forward, not arguing and speaking your mind.”

“Well, I’ve never interviewed for a job, but I can’t think of anything better than Jessica James speaking her mind.”

I shook my head at him, narrowing my eyes suspiciously. “That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair?”

“You’re saying all the right things. Whereas I’m being completely honest.”

He challenged lightly, “What makes you think these right things I’m saying isn’t me being completely honest?”

I blinked, then stared at him, at his profile. My heart sped at his last words and my breath seemed to catch. Pinpricks of awareness covered my skin accompanied by a nervous uncertainty. I averted my eyes back to the windshield and stared unseeingly forward.

Did I want to kiss the hell out of him? Yes, I did.

Did I want to wrap his banana and let him have his way with my coconuts? Yes. I wanted that to happen.

Did I want him to say all the right things, with sincerity, revealing his hidden depths (as well as a few of mine)?

…

…

…

I honestly had no idea.

On one hand, yes. Yes. YES! This Duane was sweet and sincere, generous and wonderful, funny and sexy. I’d known him forever, we had history. I’d thought the history would hinder a relationship between us, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. Our history only added to this growing connection, provided gravity of feeling and understanding. What more could I want? What more could I ask for?

On the other hand, no. No. NO! Duane had roots. Subterranean, cavernous roots. He was a local business owner, he had a big family. I couldn’t imagine him ever leaving Tennessee. This was his home, and home was a physical place for him.

But Green Valley wasn’t where I belonged. I’d known I would never stay my whole life.

Regardless, I was moving deeper without meaning to, wading out of my shallow pool. And this was only our first date, a date that hadn’t even technically started yet.

At some point I was going to have to tell him I had plans and those plans meant I would be leaving. Eventually. Definitely.

I needed to be honest…but not yet.

***

Cooper Road Trail was definitely an off-the-beaten-path kind of park. Duane’s was the only car in the lot when we pulled in. I knew of this locale mostly because my momma loved to hike the trail in June, when the orange and yellow daylilies bloomed along the path. The summer air smelled sweet and warm, and was alive with buzzing bees and rushing water from nearby waterfalls.

It was a first come, first served kind of place, no camping reservations accepted. It was also exceedingly difficult to find if you weren’t a longtime citizen of the Valley. The campsite was small, verging on cramped, and had roughly ten or so spots; five of those spots were on a shallow and relatively wide clear-water stream, typical for the area.

When we arrived and Duane pulled a mountaineering backpack from his trunk, along with a big basket hamper, I abruptly remembered I’d left the beer in the refrigerator at home.

“Oh, shoot!” I grimaced, rubbing my forehead.

“What’s wrong?”

“I was in such a rush to escape my brother I forgot our drinks at the house.”