Page 30 of Burn Point

She did, they flew wide, and her mouth dropped open. Her stunned expression morphed to giddy excitement.

“Oh my God, Nate! Is that what I think it is?”

I chuckled, offering her a hand down. “Come on, let’s go see if it runs.”

The old man met us back at the van with the keys and helped me get the battery connected. I climbed in the seat, Jordan crowding close to me. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

The engine turned over after the second try. I left it running and got out to listen to it. Inspection done, I looked at Jordan and said, “You want to take her for a spin?”

She bounced on her toes, blonde curls bobbing, eyes sparkling like a little kid at Christmas. Adorable. Her reaction to knowing she had a surprise was almost better than the surprise itself.

We took the van for a short drive and negotiated the price a bit, finally coming to terms, planning to come back the next day and pick it up.

“We need to stop by the hardware store on the way home,” she declared as we pulled out of the drive.

“What for?”

“I need to price materials. And tools.”

She danced in the passenger seat, typing into her phone, a huge smile on her face. Pride bloomed in my chest. I’d done that. I’d put that smile on her face. And I found myself wanting to keep it there. If a surprise and a stop by the hardware store was all it took, I was game.

“I’ve got the tools, but we can stop and look.”

Half an hour later, we had a bag full of nails and incidentals and hit a drive through for dinner. Jordan beamed the entire time, bobbing her head to the radio, loudly singing off-key. Her happiness fused into my bones.

“This has been a good day, Nate. The best day in a long time. Thank you so much.”

It had been a good day, and for the life of me, I didn’t want it to end.

“It was fun, wasn’t it?” I said with a nod. “How about we grab some beer and go watch a game? The Braves are playing today.”

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

When we got home, Jordan pulled on a sweatshirt and curled up on one end of the couch, feet tucked under her, legs bent against the armrest. I grabbed us each a cold one and sat at the other end of the couch.

MC texted me about halfway into the game, confirming that she’d rescheduled the photo shoot. Why she felt the need to keep me apprised of the schedule, instead of letting Mike handle it, I didn’t know.

“What’s wrong?” Jordan asked. “You’re frowning.”

I schooled my features. “Nothing. Just… Mary Catherine keeps texting me about this photo shoot thing.”

Jordan tipped her head to the side. “You don’t want to do it?”

On the television screen, the Braves had the bases loaded and the winning run at the plate. I paused, watching a few pitches.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, but I think there are other more important things to worry about right now.”

“Well, can’t you just tell her that?”

I laughed a little. “No, there is no just telling MC anything. She’s part of the organizing committee and she takes it very seriously.”

The Braves hitter struck out and the next guy came up to bat. Jordan was silent, watching the screen, picking at the paper on her bottle.

“What?”

She lifted a shoulder, eyes to the screen.

“I know you have something to say. Just say it.”

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