Page 16 of First Love, Second Draft

“Thank you,” she said, stumbling a step back to keep them both on their feet. “And I’m glad you’re, um...” Her soft hands patted up and down the bare skin of his back. “Very scantily clad?”

“Yeah dude, where’s your clothes?” Wombat sauntered over and gave a fleshy smack to Matt’s shoulder.

“Where’s my clothes? How about where’s your phone?” Matt dropped his arms from Rachel, so he could punch Wombat’s shoulder. “You can’t just tell me Rachel’s dead, then refuse to answer my calls.”

“You told Matt I was dead?” Rachel punched Wombat’s other shoulder.

“I said the deer was dead,” Wombat said, smacking the back of his hands against Rachel’s and Matt’s arms.

“No, you saidShe’s dead.” Matt punched Wombat again, this timewith a lot more oomph as he relived the panic those two words had brought him.

“Well, she’s a she, ain’t she?” Wombat pointed to the shadowed form of a deer on the side of the road.

“So isshe,” Matt yelled, waving at Rachel before landing another punch on Wombat’s upper arm.

“Hey,” Wombat said, lifting his hands to block further punches. “Do you really want to get into a debate with me right now when you’re the one standing out here in your underwear?”

“He makes a good point.” Rachel’s shoulders hunched as she dug her hands into the pockets of her puffy jacket. “You couldn’t have taken five seconds to at least put on some pants?”

Matt hadn’t noticed how cold the October night was until this moment. Or how naked he felt. Goose pimples rippled over his skin as he spun for his truck. “I thought you might be dead,” he said over his shoulder. “So no. Forgive me for not taking five seconds to put on my pants.”

He yanked his jeans from where he’d dropped them on the driver’s seat, slammed the door shut, then began shoving one leg inside before realizing he still had his shoes on. This endeavor was obviously going to take longer than five seconds.

“Honestly, that’s kind of sweet,” Rachel said as he toed off one of his shoes.

“It is kind of sweet.” Wombat, apparently immune to the cold in his short-sleeved T-shirt, looped his thumbs behind his suspenders. “Would you not put on pants for me if you thought I was dead?”

Matt threw his shoe at Wombat.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Well, since you’re so sweet, you mind giving Rachel a ride?” He handed Matt’s shoe off to Rachel and motioned to his tow truck, the lights still flashing yellow. “I’ll handle all this and get a hold of you later, okay?”

“Thanks, Wombat. Anybody mention you’re kind of sweet too?” Rachel called after him as he walked away. He waved in reply.

“You know what would’ve been sweet?” Matt began hopping onone foot as he attempted to get his other foot in the pants leg. “A five-second text to let me know you were moving back to town.”

“I was going to text you. Eventually.”

“When? After you were dead?”

“Immediately after. Promise.”

“Well, I reckon that makes about as much sense as driving around Dead Man’s Curve in the middle of the night. What were you doing out here? Are you crazy?”

“Says the man who still doesn’t have his pants on.”

“I’m working on it, okay?” Still hopping, Matt finally managed to jam both legs into his jeans. Jeez Louise, no wonder Aunt Gracie said she was giving up on wearing pants. He could hardly do it with two good legs and an intact pelvis.

Rachel handed back his shoe. “Look, I’m sorry. I seriously was going to text you. Things just... well, sort of fell apart in Florida. This whole coming back here happened kind of fast. Life’s been a little crazy lately. I mean, obviously, it’s settling down now,” Rachel said, waving her hands at the smashed-in car now getting towed away by Wombat.

“What happened in Florida?”

He heard the fatigue in her sigh. “Nothing I want to get into tonight.”

Fair enough. Matt worked his shoes back on and folded his arms over his chest, wishing again he’d brought a shirt. Or jacket. Maybe a parka. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, he was starting to shiver.

“I’m just glad you’re okay.” He’d find out what happened in Florida later. “Think your car will be salvageable?” he asked, hoping to distract her from the fact he was having his first face-to-face conversation with her in over five years completely shirtless after hopping around in a pair of Hello Kitty boxer shorts that he’d received as a gag gift last Christmas.

Hopefully she’d failed to notice that last bit in the dark.

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