Page 351 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
I splash her the tiniest bit. “Come in and judge for yourself. Are you a swimmer?”
“Not a fast one, but I swam laps when I was in grad school to keep myself sane.” She moves like she’s about to get in the water, but then she pauses, looking back toward the lounge chair where she left her things. “That’s my phone,” she says, the ringing distant but audible. “Um, just give me one sec,” she says. “That’s the ringtone assigned to my parents.”
“Take your time.” She walks back to the chair, and I do my level best not to stare as she goes. I sink into the water, letting it cool my face, but it doesn’t come close to cooling my attraction. If this is the way things are going to be whenever I’m around Audrey, it’s going to be a long month of faking.
“Mom, I need you to calm down,” Audrey says, as soon as my head is out of the water, and I immediately stand up, a sense of alarm racing through me.
Audrey must see me, because she waves her hand and smiles, her expression saying there isn’t arealemergency going on. She listens for another moment, then bites her lip like she’s trying to control her laughter. “No, I understand,” she says. “But I promise it isn’t going to hurt you. It’s just as scared as you are.”
Slowly, she walks toward me, then lowers herself back to the pool deck, sitting like she was before with her feet in the water. She lifts her finger to her lips as if to shush me, then puts the call on speaker phone.
“…it just climbed right through the window!” her mom says. “Ohhhh, Audrey! It’s on the bed. It’s on our bed! We’re going to have squirrel poop on our bed!”
“Get out of the way and I’ll catch it,” a man’s voice says. This must be her dad. “I’ve got the oven mitts on.”
“Dad, please don’t try to catch the squirrel,” Audrey says. “Even with oven mitts on. The RV isn’t very big. If you both just calm down and leave the windows and doors open, I promise it’ll find its way out on its own.”
“Can squirrels give us rabies?” her mom asks. “This one has angry eyes. Oh! It’s on the curtains! It’s climbing the curtains!”
“Squirrels don’t carry rabies,” Audrey says, her voice unflappably calm. “Is the window open next to the curtains it’s climbing? I’m sure it’s looking for a way out.”
“Derek!” her mom whisper yells. “Take off the oven mitts and open that window.”
Several thumps and bumps sound, followed by a loud crash. “It’s just you and me now,” Audrey’s dad says, his voice low. “Now head on out that window, or else I’ll swap the oven mitts for a baseball bat, and we’ll have ourselves some nice squirrel stew for dinner.”
I bark out a laugh, quickly lifting my hand and pressing it to my mouth to cut off the sound. Audrey’s eyes widen—she made it clear I’m supposed to be silent—but she’s just as close to laughing as I am. And rightly so. Audrey’s parents are hilarious.
“Dad! Don’t you dare get the baseball bat. Mom, do you have any nuts? Walnuts, maybe? Or pecans?”
There’s some rustling, then Audrey’s mom whispers, “I have walnuts. And peanuts.”
“Go for the walnuts. You and dad get out of the RV, then leave a few walnuts on the floor leading to the door, and a few more on the ground outside. Then just relax for a minute. I promise thatsquirrel is no more excited about being trapped in your RV than you are about it being there.”
“Right. Nuts. I can do that. Gah! It’s coming at me! Derek! Get out of the way, you oaf!”
Audrey shoots me another exasperated look, and I press my lips together, still fighting laughter.
“He took the nut!” her mom whisper-yells. “Audrey! He took it!”
“That’s good!” Audrey whispers back. “Are you outside?”
I love that Audrey is whispering too.
“We’re outside,” her dad says. “Are you sure I can’t use this bat?”
“I’ll never forgive you if you do,” Audrey says.
Her mom squeals. “He took another one! It’s working!”
A few seconds of silence pass, then her mom cheers into the phone! “He’s free! Ohhh, and look. He seems happy to have something to eat.”
“Mom, please don’t start feeding the squirrels, all right? This is a one-time deal. Is everything okay now?”
“Thanks to you,” her mom says. “How areyou? Everything going all right?”
“Everything’s great, but I’m not really in a place where I can chat. If you’re okay, can I call you later?”
“Oh, of course. Squirrel crisis averted!” her mom says. “Call us anytime. Love you, Auds!”
