Playing the Player(60)

Max crossed his arms defiantly. “I thought you said this was an adventure day.” He glared at me.

“It is, buddy. An awesome one. We’re on the light rail, right?”

He pouted. “But I wanted to go to the moon. Like in that book about the moon train.”

I looked at Trina helplessly.

“But in the book,” she said quickly, “all the kids fall asleep on the train. You’d miss all the fun if you fell asleep, right?” She leaned across the gap between the seats and ruffled his hair. “Besides, we’re going downtown. That’s an adventure in itself.”

The kids wore matching suspicious expressions.

“Will there be rides?” Gilly asked. “A Ferris wheel?”

“Popcorn and candy?” Max’s voice was hopeful.

“Oh, yeah!” Gilly chimed in. “And a gift shop. I want a stuffed animal this time. A really huge one, even bigger than me.”

I seriously doubted there’d be a Molly Brown stuffed doll.

The kids watched us expectantly and Trina turned to me, anxiety etched on her face. If only I’d been listening to her last night. I could’ve suggested something else, something with more kid-wow factor.

But I’d been too distracted by the idea of kissing her. Even now, at the very moment when I should be saving the day somehow, what I really wanted was for the kids to disappear with some substitute Mary Poppins so that I could focus on Trina, and that lip she kept biting, and her purple toenails, and—

“I’m sure we can find snacks somewhere.” Trina turned away from me to the kids.

“Maybe on the Sixteenth Street Mall,” I said, willing the sparkle to return to her eyes.

“I hate malls,” Max announced, his voice inching up the whiney Richter scale.

Trina sighed heavily next to me, and I wanted to touch her, to relax her and let her know the day would be fine. It would work out, like it always did, though there might be a few glitches. Maybe more than a few, based on the kids’ expectations and the reality they were about to encounter.

“It’s not like the mall you go to with your mom, Max,” I said. “It’s outside. It’s a street you can walk on, that cars can’t drive on.” I grinned at him. “With a shuttle train that goes from one end to the other.”

“And it has pianos you can play,” Trina chimed in.

“Pianos?”

She nodded. “Yeah. It’s an art project. Artists decorated a bunch of pianos, and they’re placed along the mall randomly. Anyone can play and sing, or whatever.”

“Huh. That’s cool.”

“I can play ‘Chopsticks,’” Gilly announced.

“Me too,” Max elbowed her. “And ‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.’”

I grinned at Trina. “Sounds like a plan.”

She took a deep breath. “We can walk to the Sixteenth Street Mall after the museum. I’m glad you thought of it.”

“Museum?” Max piped up, smiling for the first time since we got on the train. “Are we going to see the dinosaurs again?”

“Moon rover!” Gilly exclaimed, bouncing in her seat.

Crap.

“Uh, no,” Trina’s voice was soft. “It’s a historical museum. About a famous Colorado woman who lived here about one hundred years ago. She was amazing. She used to—”

“A museum about an old woman?” Gilly tilted her head. “What’s in it?” She frowned. “Is it a boring one? With old-lady clothes and hats?”

Trina sighed next to me. “Well, some of that, but—”

Gilly glowered at us. “Who cares what people wore in the old days? I saw some movie where ladies had to wear dresses to swim. That’s dumb.”

“It was different then, Gillian,” Trina said. “Standards have cha—”

“I’m never wearing a dress to swim.” She frowned at Trina. “And you can’t make me.”

“I never said I would. Your swimsuit is fi—”

“Boys are lucky,” Max interrupted. “We don’t even have to wear shirts in the summer when it’s hot outside.”

“That’s not fair,” Gilly growled. “I hate that stupid rule. If it’s hot today, I’m taking my shirt off. I don’t care if it’s public or not.”

I felt all the air whoosh out of Trina as she sagged next to me.

“Nobody’s going shirtless today.” I pointed at both kids. “No shirts means no candy. Or gift shops.”

They stared at me open-mouthed.

“You’re mean, Slade,” Gilly said, kicking at my legs. “Just because you’re a boy and don’t have to wear clothes in the summer.”

“Everybody has to wear clothes in the summer, Gilly.” I gave her my knock-if-off glare, but she didn’t flinch.

A woman across the aisle tried unsuccessfully to hold in her laughter.

“You can swim naked,” Max said. “I heard my dad say so. I think it’s called skippy dipping.”

Trina’s laughter bubbled out, making my skin tingle.

“Skinny-dipping, Max. It’s called skinny-dipping.” She darted a glance at me, and my stomach did that weird thing again.