Fool Me Twice (18 page)

He takes off his hat and wipes the sweat from his brow. “Yeah. I started at dawn, and with every hour I think I’m dying a little more.”

“Will you be done soon?” I ask, glancing at Bailey. “We were thinking of going swimming later. If you don’t have, like, princesses to save or whatever.”

Bailey blinks, then recovers. “Yeah, you should join us. I’ll be your princess and, you never know, I might be in distress and need, like, mushrooms or something.”

Oh God, it’s all I can do not to slap my hand over her mouth.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, extra-slow, like he’s not sure what to make of Bailey’s statement. “Swimming sounds great. I’ve got two more sprinklers to replace. Can we go in a couple of hours?”

“Sure,” Bailey says.

Adam grabs the handles to his cart. “Okay, then. Meet you guys around four?”

“Yeah. See you then,” I say, leading Bailey away.

She catches up to me and says, “God, it’s like I can’t turn off my flirty ditz mode!
Mushrooms?
It was all silly and playful when you did it, and I sound like an idiot! What is wrong with me?”

“I don’t know, but he’s not into it.”

“Thanks, I noticed,” she says drily.

“You have another chance later,” I say, walking toward Landon and Michael. I lower my voice. “We just have to get rid of Michael first.”

“So, we were thinking,” Landon says, “that we should ditch the last two holes and go swimming. You guys in?”

I dart a look at Bailey. “Uh, no,” I say, scrambling for a way to keep Michael from going swimming later. “I’m super determined to make it through the whole course, and plus the river is
really gross right now. Uh, storm water runoff. From, like, Idaho. It’s all over the news.”

Landon furrows his brow, staring between me and Bailey.

I elbow her.

“Uh, yeah,” she says. “And I really want to finish this course. I feel like I’m starting to catch on.”

“Okaaaay then,” Michael says slowly. “Let’s get these last two holes done.”

He walks away, and I lean into Bailey as we follow. “You so owe me big-time. I think I’ve lost ten pounds from sweating, and I just volunteered for more of this crap.”

She smiles. “Thank you.”

Two hours later, our discarded clothes are piled high on the rock near the edge of the water. I’m wearing Bailey’s string bikini again, with a pair of pink shorts, and Bailey’s wearing her more modest one-piece, except it has a big diamond-shaped cutout over her belly button. I convinced her less was more when it came to Adam, and I’m pretty sure I’m right. I’ve caught him checking her out twice now. Her hair’s in a messy ponytail, and since she couldn’t find her waterproof mascara, she washed it off and looks a little more au naturel than usual. He seems more into her.

She’s standing hip-deep in the water, and Adam’s teaching her how to skip rocks. She sucks at it, but she can’t stop trying. Every time she screws up, he laughs, but she’s not embarrassed. Instead, she’s got this glow I don’t usually see, because she’s enjoying herself instead of playing coy or sexy or whatever.

Landon and I stand hip-deep in the water, and I let my palm skim the surface. “This feels so freaking good,” I say. “I don’t know why we didn’t do this in the first place.”

“Golfing was your idea,” he says. “And so was finishing the course.”

“Um, yeah, but I didn’t realize how hot it would get,” I say. “And Bailey finally got Adam to hang out, so we had to finish the course in order to ditch Michael. Besides, you looked like you were enjoying it.”

“I like golf. I was on the golf team at school last year, you know.”

“Of course I knew that,” I say. It’s the only reason I’d suggested golf for today.

“Good. I mean,
I
know you’re in FBLA, little Miss Future Business Leader of America.”

My eyes widen without my meaning them to. He’s talking about two years ago, before we’d ever come to this ranch. He’d noticed me at school? “How?”

“You sell raffle tickets at their table. You’re kinda hard to miss, with your sexy little miniskirts and orange leggings, yelling about changing the world, signing petitions, donating money. The other girls kinda sit there like bumps on a log, but you, you went after it. I saw you throw a packet at Kenny Miller once, and it hit him in the face, yet you didn’t look embarrassed. More … smug. And dang if I didn’t watch him donate ten bucks.”

I laugh. That had actually happened. I’d been getting so annoyed after a long lunch period of being ignored, and his group was standing in a big cluster in front of our table, blocking our signs from view. I’d tried three times to get his attention
and he’d ignored me, so I threw a
Save Our Local Rivers
pamphlet right at him, except I accidently nailed him in the face.

“So if you noticed me, why’d you never talk to me at school?”

I want to ask a more pointed question—I want to ask him why he ignored me after last summer, why he had to act like I didn’t exist, but I couldn’t.

“I would’ve eventually,” he says. “But we never had classes together.”

He’s wrong, though. We had senior English together, the most miserable hour of my every day. I stared at the back of his head for those sixty minutes, willing him to turn around, willing him to just
explain
how he could drop me and move on so fast.

“Plus I was a little worried for my safety.”

I laugh again and splash water at him.

“What? You’ve got a heck of an arm,” he says, splashing water right back. “You could poke my eye out or something.”

“It’s not too late, I could still poke your eye out,” I say, stepping closer. I push hard on his bare chest, but he just grabs my wrists and slips them up over his shoulders, yanking me against him. I let my feet leave the ground, wrapping my legs around him, but I realize too late I’ve given up control.

He buckles his legs and we go under. I want to let go, push away, swim frantically toward the surface, because I’ve barely gotten in a lungful of air, but he’s still holding me. So I wait, my eyes shut.

And just as my lungs scream for air, he stands again, and my head pops over the surface.

“You’re a jerk,” I say.

“But an irresistible one, right?”

“Maybe.”

“Say yes, or we’re going under again,” he says, bobbling a little, so the water slides up my stomach again.

“Okay, okay,” I mutter.

“Say it,” he says, ducking a little.

“You’re irresistible.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Are you sure these aren’t, like, used?” Bailey whispers. “Because that would be totally gross.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I say, rubbing the sore tip of my finger. “They were in a big box and it was still sealed shut.”

“Where the heck did you even find a box of fifty mousetraps?” Bailey asks, leaning back against the big cedar pillar behind her.

I shake the tingling pain out of my hand. These things are trickier than I thought. I’ve already snapped my fingers twice, and each time my heart roared to life, worried the noise had carried into Landon’s bedroom. He
cannot
wake up.

At least, not yet.

“Costco?” I guess. We’re sitting on the front steps of Landon’s cabin, in the light of the moon, setting up the traps one by one. We’ve been here twenty minutes, and with each passing moment,
I feel a little more wound up, like the coils on our silly traps. “I mean, I didn’t get them from the store or anything. I talked Adam into opening up one of those maintenance sheds behind the golf shop.”

“Oh,” she says, yawning. “I’m going to be so tired tomorrow.” She sets another trap down on the tray, next to a half dozen others.

“I know, I know. But this is so going to be worth it.” I reach into my pocket and slide out my cell phone, blinking against the bright glare of light. “We have six more minutes before the alarm goes off. Forty-two is probably good enough,” I say.

“Great because my fingers hurt,” she says, setting down the trap in her hand.

I have no idea how I could’ve gotten all this done without her. “You’re kind of the best friend in the entire universe, you know that, right?”

“I know.” She grins at me. “And if I ever hatch some insane revenge scheme on an ex-boyfriend, you better be right there with me.”

I turn away abruptly when she says “revenge scheme,” my cheeks warming. I haven’t really told her that I’m not sure I want revenge anymore.

I want Landon instead.

“Uh, Mack, what’s with that look?”

“What look?” I ask, not meeting her eyes as I set another trap.

“That weird look you got when I said revenge. This is still about revenge, right?”

I purse my lips.

“Right?”

“Um …”

“You
cannot
change the plan, Mack. That will end badly. Very, very badly.”

“How can you be so sure, though? He’s different now.” I stare at the ground, willing her to agree, to validate my feelings.

Our relationship isn’t the same this time around. It’s just not. And I need her to say so too, so that it’s not all in my head.

“That doesn’t mean he’s in love with you for real. I mean we wanted him to fall, but it’s not like we thought he’d become boyfriend material even if he did. He’s not that kind of guy.”

“I think you’re wrong,” I say, my throat suddenly feeling raw. “I think he has real feelings. And weirdly, despite all our scheming, I feel like he gets me.”

“Yeah? And when you get to WSU, and another girl catches his eye, what then? Do you really want to walk into some building and see him making out with another girl again?”

“It’s not the same.”

“It is, and you know it.” She stares right into my eyes. “Mack, even if he did fall, you’d have to tell him what you’ve been up to all summer. He’s not going to take kindly to you making a fool of him. When he knows what we’ve done, he’ll just bail.”

I rake in a jagged breath of air. “I don’t know, I need to think about it more. I guess I’m just confused,” I say.

“You better get
un
confused before he rips out your heart again.”

“I know,” I say. “And anyway, I’m still pranking him, aren’t I? He’s going to hate this.”

I hope she doesn’t see the fear and the apprehension and a million other emotions probably swirling in my eyes.

“You got it.” We stand, each of us picking up one of the lunch trays we jacked from the cafeteria. Only about a dozen traps fit on the surface, so we’ll have to make a couple of trips.

I thank the ranch gods who gave Landon this cabin, at the end of the sidewalk, partially hidden by the big weeping willow. If someone had spotted us, I’m not sure how I could explain me and Bailey sitting on his porch setting forty-two mousetraps.

I step carefully over the two trays still sitting on the the front porch, turning back to Bailey to give her the
shhhhh
signal before putting my hand on the doorknob. For one soul-crushing moment I think Landon, for once in his life, actually bothered to lock the door, but then it clicks and we’re inside. We slide off our flip-flops near the door, then step noiselessly forward, into his living room. I lead her toward the bedroom, glancing back one more time to be sure she’s not about to trip on the rug and ruin our little plans. She’s following, her eyes trained on her lunch tray.

We make tiny, silent movements as we approach his bed. He’s sprawled out on his stomach, his head turned away from us, the blanket kind of mounded over him, moonlight spilling in through the slats of his blinds.

Perfect.

I pick up a trap around the edges, my hand shaking a little as I lower the mousetrap onto his alarm clock. I don’t take another breath until it’s resting there and my hand is at my side again. Behind me, Bailey stoops over, setting the traps she brought in down on the ground.

It only takes seconds to slide them off the trays and onto the floor, and I’m straining to discern any difference in his breathing the whole time. It remains deep and even, and he doesn’t move an inch.

Bailey and I meet eyes as I place the last trap, and she flashes me a thumbs-up. I nod and follow her back to the door, where we grab the other two trays and return to his room, spreading them out on the floor around the side and foot of his bed. When we’re done, I step back and admire our work, my eyes darting to the red digits on Landon’s alarm clock.

One minute
.

When the clock ticks over and the blare finally comes I almost shriek, even though I’d expected it. Instead I clamp my jaw down and watch as Landon moans, then slowly turns, his blanket twisting around his body.

I hold my breath as he reaches out in the darkness, slamming his fingers down on the trap.

His eyes pop open as he yelps and springs from bed, yanking his hand so hard the trap flies across the room, and I have to duck. It bounces off the wall above my head.

The blankets tangle around his legs and he crashes to the floor, where he sets off a series of traps against his arms, his chest, and his feet. Amidst the
snap-snap-snap-snap
, I burst out laughing, falling over into Bailey as she does the same.

“Argrghghgh
,” Landon groans as another trap snaps against his arm and then stills. The room falls silent, save the stifled giggles of me and Bailey as I try desperately to get myself back under control. Maybe we should’ve bailed before he knew it was us, but there was no way I could miss this, and besides, I’m not sure who else would be his prime suspect.

I get my giggles under control just as he speaks.

“Oh man,” he says. “I totally underestimated you.”

I grin, triumph spinning through my veins. “One, two, I’m
coming for you. Three, four, better lock your door,” I say, in a singsong voice. Then I spin on my heel and head for the exit.

“Nightmare on Elm Street
,” Landon calls after me.

I stop in the doorway, my hand on the knob. “Yep,” I say, smiling devilishly.

“Definitely a nightmare,” he adds, groaning again as the door slams shut behind me.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“How are things going with Adam?” I ask. Bailey and I are sitting cross-legged on the floor of the main dining hall, the one typically used for the guests. The summer is almost over, and we’re assembling paper lanterns to be hung at the dance in a couple of days.