Page 73 of Trip Me Up

27

SAM

I huggedBilbo Baggins tight as Niall parked the rental car in front of the two-story white farmhouse on Friday morning. It was a Hallmark movie set with its wraparound porch and rocking chairs. All it needed was a bunch of daisies growing in front. But in Ohio, February was too early for flowers.

Niall pulled the key out of the ignition. An easy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Okay so far? This isn’t too terrible?”

It was terrible.Iwas terrible to have let him talk me into this. Even if Niall hadn’t accepted it yet, our friendship would end as soon as the tour did. Because if it didn’t, the lies I’d stacked up between us would topple over and crush us both. There was no reason to get closer to him. And coming to his farm was about as close to Niall as I could get.

So I told him another lie. For someone who was an awful liar, I told them more and more easily. “It’s fine. I’m good.”

“Then let’s go inside. We’ll say hi to Mom and Grandpa, and I’ll give you the grand tour.”

When I opened the car door, Bilbo Baggins jumped out and ran in circles, sniffing the ground. Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I caught the scent of menthol—not eucalyptus now, but pine—and cedar. Ohio smelled like Niall.

He came around the front of the car and slid his hand into mine. He tugged me up the front steps and through the unlocked front door.

“Mom, I’m home,” he called in the old-fashioned entryway. A neat row of boots—most of them muddy—sat in a tray next to the front door. Bilbo Baggins sniffed them. “Don’t bother taking your shoes off,” Niall said. “We’ll only be inside a minute.”

The scent of baking bread wafted through the house. We passed through a doorway to the right into a bright yellow kitchen with white-painted cabinets. Niall’s mother—I recognized her from Niall’s book launch—wiped her hands on a faded blue gingham dish towel.

“Niall. And Sam.” She held out her arms, and Niall let go of my hand to step into his mother’s embrace. After a long hug, she released him and opened her arms to me. She was softer than my mother, less angled bone and more pliant muscle, and her callused hands snagged on the back of my canvas coat. Up close, she smelled of yeast and lemons. Bilbo Baggins danced below, his toenails tapping on the linoleum.

Niall’s grandfather stood from where he’d been sitting at the kitchen table and hugged Niall. He held out his rough right hand to me, and I shook it.His left arm was in a cast.

“It’s good to see you again, Mr. Flynn. Ms. Flynn.” I tried to smile like I meant it.

His smile was more guarded, less free than Niall’s mother’s.

She swiped a crumb off the counter. “Please, call me Elaine. Or Laney. And my dad is Jerry. Are you two hungry?”

“No—” I began. We’d had pastries and coffee at the airport waiting for our early-morning flight.

But Niall spoke over me. “I want to take Sam on a tour of the farm. Mind if I pack us some sandwiches? I promise we’ll be back for supper.”

Elaine’s laugh rang out through the kitchen. “If I had a dollar for every time you lost yourself in those woods and missed supper.” She patted Niall’s shoulder. “Today’s bread is still in the oven, but I have some of yesterday’s. You know where everything is.” She squatted down to stroke Bilbo Baggins, who flopped to the floor and exposed his belly.

“Not a watchdog, this one,” she said.

His head in the refrigerator, Niall said, “No, more like an icebreaker. That dog has friends in six cities. He’s more extroverted than either of us.”

Elaine grinned, and she stood, resting a hip on the counter. “Have you enjoyed the book tour so far, Sam?”

“I guess?”

She chuckled. “I can’t imagine how grueling it must be. All that travel. All those people.”

Niall set down an armful of items on the butcher-block island. “It’s not so bad. The adulation of fans. Restaurant meals. Daily housekeeping. And a distinct lack of stall-mucking.” He glanced at me. “Though Sam’s a city girl. I don’t think she’s ever experienced the joy of a good stall-mucking.”

“I’ve had a riding lesson or two, and my parents used to take us to a farm outside the city. I’m not afraid of your barn. Or your livestock.” That farm had been one of Dad’s favorite day trips. Mine, too.

Grinning, Niall piled turkey onto thick slices of bread.

“I see how it is,” Jerry said. “You get here too late for morning chores, and you’ll be lying around in the woods all day.” He snagged a piece of turkey from the container.

Niall’s smile tightened at the corners. “I promise I’ll help you with the evening chores. And if you’ve got a list of things for me to do, I’ll tackle them before we leave tomorrow.”

“Nah.” Jerry slapped Niall’s back. “I was just jerking you around. The Turner kid’s been helping us out. You enjoy the day with your lady friend.” He shot me a sly glance.

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