on a volcano right now.”
“Hawaii and Oregon have a lot in common. Volcanoes and rain. And...that’s it.”
“They’re practically twins. You look great, by the way,” Chris said.
“I’m wet.”
Chris’s eyebrow went up another notch.
“Wet from the rain,” she said hastily.
“Right. The rain. Hawaii’s been good to you.”
It was sweet that he said that, but she looked like hell and she knew it. She’d dressed in the classic Oregon uniform of Columbia jacket (red), jeans (blue), rain boots (a nondescript army green) and no umbrella. Umbrellas were for tourists, which meant her dark hair was plastered to her forehead. And she’d cried a little in the car and given herself raccoon eyes. She had naturally warm brown skin, which she’d inherited from her Mexican-American father, and a Hawaiian tan on top of it, so at least she wouldn’t appear as washed out as she felt. If she’d known Chris would be here looking as good as he did, she would have made more of an effort.
“You look fantastic. I barely recognized you with the short hair and beard. When did that happen?”
“Short hair? Um, eight years ago? The real world made me do it. The beard? Last November. Bad breakup. She dumped me for a Trail Blazer. I stopped shaving. Everyone told me I looked better with the beard so I kept it. I trimmed it, though. I had a little ZZ Top thing going on.”
“A Trail Blazer? Like one of the basketball players or the cars? Because if she dumped you for a car, that’s weird.”
“The basketball players. Apparently she had a thing for tall guys.”
“You’re tall. You’re huge.”
That eyebrow went up one more notch.
“I keep saying sexual things without meaning to,” she said. “Sorry. I’m running on very little sleep. I can’t be held responsible for what my mouth does.”
The eyebrow was as high as it could go.
“I did it again, didn’t I?” she asked.
“It’s okay, Jo.” He furrowed his brow. “Do you still go by Jo? Joey? I don’t want to call you that if you don’t. Are you Jolene now?”
“Definitely not Jolene. Everyone still calls me Jo or Joey. They better since it’s all I answer to.”
“Joey, it is. I’m almost done here, and then I’ll get out of your hair.”
“You aren’t in my hair at all. The cabin looks amazing. I can’t believe you did all this.”
“Not all of it. I had to subcontract the exterior. I can do cedar siding but it takes forever.”
“But the rest of it? The floors, the kitchen, the paint...the pumpkins?”
“Some kids were selling pumpkins at a stand by the road. I’m a sucker.”
“Were you always good at painting and flooring and advanced pumpkin carving and you just kept it a secret?”
He shrugged. “I learned a lot of it from Dad. Except the pumpkin carving. That’s self-taught.”
“You go to school for this?”
He nodded. “Yeah, trade school. Then I apprenticed for a few years. Anybody can learn to do this stuff. Just takes time.”
“Mount Hood must keep you busy. Half the cabins around here were falling down when we were kids.”
“Yeah, tell me about it. I had to turn down four other jobs to do this one for Dillon.”
“You could have told him no.”
“Nah.” He grinned again. “He said you’d be staying here for the wedding. I couldn’t let my high school crush crash in a dump, could I? If the ceiling caved in on you, I’d never forgive myself.”
Joey laughed, rolled her eyes.
“So now you finally admit it.”
“Only took me ten years. But don’t worry. I’m totally over you.” He waved his hand, signing a “done” motion. She might have believed him but for the twinkle of mirth in his eyes.
“You never told me...were you the one who put the roses in my locker on Valentine’s Day?”
“Maybe...”
“Did you pick my lock?”
“No. Dillon did.”
“Oh, that asshole.” She shook her head in exasperation. “I told him I was going nuts trying to figure out who did it, and he played dumb. He’s so good at playing dumb I believed him. Or maybe I thought he was just dumb.”
“He didn’t want to out me. He’d been through that himself.”
“Yeah, that was a rough year,” Joey said, remembering the year when the rumors about Dillon being gay got started. He’d trusted the wrong friend with the secret and in a week the entire school knew. She and Chris had taken shifts with Dillon, walking with him to and from class, to and from home. As long as there were witnesses around, they were pretty sure nobody would jump Dillon and beat the shit out of him. They’d had a few close calls. Chris had bloodied more than one nose protecting Dillon. “I’m so glad he had you back then.”
At least this time he didn’t raise his eyebrow at her, but she could tell he wanted to.
“You know what I mean,” she said. “Not had you. Unless he did. Which is fine. I kind of wondered what you two were up to in the garage.”
“Smoking weed.”
“That’s not sexy at all.”
“Sorry to disappoint you with my straightness. I promise, I was born this way.”
“It’s quite disappointing. I already had yours and Dillon’s wedding planned before my own.”
“That’s far-thinking of you. That wasn’t even legal until last year here.”
“I was a dreamer. And I thought you’d both look so cute in bow ties.”
“I’ve never been happier to be not marrying Dillon than I am right now.”
“No respect for the bow tie. It’s a classic. James Bond wore a bow tie. Brando wore a bow tie.”
“Pee-wee Herman wore a bow tie.”
“Yes, Pee-wee.” She pointed at his chest. “That’s who you should be for the wedding. You are going, aren’t you?”
“I’m going,” he said. “I wasn’t really planning on wearing a costume, though.”
“You
