One Wish (Thunder Point #7)(13)

Grace grabbed her heart in relief. He just stood there. Dripping. He plucked the gunk off his shoulder and began to climb back over the wall.

After a couple of relieved breaths, once she was sure the fun coach was all right, Grace hugged herself and sank to her knees in hysterical laughter. She could barely see him trudging toward her because her eyes were watering with tears. His jacket and pants were heavy from water, making his movements slow. She wanted to spring into action and tell him she was taking charge, except she couldn’t talk. Instead, she rose slowly to her feet and by the time he reached her, she was upright again. She took his hand and pulled him back up the path toward the Jeep.

“Oh, my God,” she rasped weakly, still hysterical with laughter. “Oh, Troy!”

“It’s thirty-eight degrees,” he said, shivering. “Get a grip! Stop laughing!”

“I’m sorry,” she said, but she couldn’t stop. “I had no idea you could be such a funny fun coach! Get in—I’m driving.”

“It’s m-m-my new Jeep!”

“You’re shaking. I’ll drive, crank up the heater and you can start peeling off wet clothes. I don’t suppose you have a blanket in the car?”

“N-n-no. That was a f-f-freak wave!”

“There was a sign!” she said. “Did you want to go over Niagara Falls in a barrel, too?”

“Funny. You’re so f-funny.”

“Oh, God, I wish I’d gotten a picture. Here,” she said, opening the passenger door. “In you g-g-go!” she said, mocking him. Then she doubled over in laughter again.

By the time she got into the driver’s seat, he had already started the engine. “Take off that jacket and throw it in the back. And that stocking cap,” she said, yanking it off his head and pitching it over her shoulder. It took him a minute to peel off the jacket and once he had, she started touching his shirt. “Not that bad, really, but still wet. That was probably forty gallons of water.” Then she touched his pants, patting his thighs and knees. “Oh-oh. These are soaked. Hang in there, the heater will get going pretty quick.” She put on her seat belt and made a big U-turn, taking off down the road. Hunching up against the steering wheel, she was still laughing. “That was seriously the funniest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” she said.

“Shut up, Grace.”

That only made her laugh harder. “Relax, I’m going to fix this for you. I hope.”

“How?”

“You’ll see. Don’t be so crabby—I’m going to get you dry.”

Troy aimed all the vents at himself and turned up the fan. “Lucky I didn’t get washed off the edge,” he muttered, rubbing his hands together.

“I admit, that wouldn’t have been as funny,” she said.

“You have a very big laugh for a little girl.”

“I know.”

A few minutes later, she parked in front of the souvenir shop. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“You’ll see.” She grabbed her purse and jumped out, leaving the car running for him. She jogged inside and less than five minutes later came running back to the car with a roll of paper towels in one hand and a shopping bag in the other. “These were donated by the cashier,” she said, handing him the paper towels. “And these are for you!” Grinning widely, she pulled a sweatshirt out of the bag—it read My Heart Is in Coos Bay. “I got the largest one. And here are some shorts.” She pulled out a pair of women’s shorts with eyelet lace sewn around the legs. “They’re actually from a pajama set, but they’re XL. They didn’t have any men’s pants, just tops. This was all they had, but they’re dry.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“It’s okay, you have nice narrow hips. If this place hadn’t had clothes, I was going to take you to that fire station, but this is better. And you don’t ever have to wear them again, just till we get you home.” She craned her neck, looking around. They were alone in the parking lot. “Take off your shirt and dry your head and body...”

“In the car?”

“You’re a guy! Guys strip on the street if they have to! Guys pee off boats!”

He ripped off his shirt and used paper towels to dry his hair, neck and his damp chest. He put on the sweatshirt. “Good. That’s good.”

“Pants. Come on.”

“They’re not that wet...”

“You’re soaked. I won’t look,” she said, turning away.

“I’m okay, but thanks for the thought.”

“Your pants are wet and it’s cold. You already made the seat wet—get your pants off and sit on a bunch of paper towels. Even if we get it warm in here, you can’t be sitting in cold, wet pants.”

“It’s New Year’s Day and nothing is open. How’d you know about this place?”

“We passed it on the way up. I asked myself what would be open on a holiday—the souvenir shop was all I could think of.” She smiled. “I almost grabbed you a couple of refrigerator magnets while I was in there.” She touched his shoulder. “Put on the nice, dry shorts, Troy. I’ll close my eyes. Besides, cold and wet as you are, there probably isn’t that much to see.”