The Sloth Zone, page 10
Gemma’s body warmed. “I guess that means we’re in the sloth zone, then? We’re doing things our own speed and style.”
“The sloth zone,” he mouthed. “I couldn’t have put it better myself.” His smile reached his eyes, highlighting the flecks of gold within his hazel eyes. “So, Gemma-rella, does this mean it’s a yes to going out for our first formal date?”
“Yes. It’s a yes.”
Tim fist pumped. “Let me show you how a princess should be treated.”
Oh, Tim, you’re already spoiling me just being so sweet.
* * *
“Have you ever been to a classic American diner before?” Tim asked a half hour later as he parked the car in front of the Lucky Dog Diner.
“No. This is a first.”
The building’s brick walls were adorned with vintage soda-pop advertisements and contained cheerful hand-painted murals depicting scenes of life in Sequoia Valley. Her eyes, however, were drawn up to the roof, where a giant dachshund dog sat wearing a chef’s hat and a bow tie.
“This is one of my favorite places in the area. In the summer, they host weekly drive-in movies. The servers will skate out to the car to take your order, and bring you your food.”
“That sounds amazing. We have a few diners in the UK, but I’ve never been to one.” Gemma closed the car door and followed Tim to the entrance. “What is the story with the large dog?”
“That’s Zippy, the mascot of the place.” He held the doors open. “When the dinner opened in the forties, the real-life Zippy used to greet customers as they walked in. He’d wear a little hat and tie, just like the statue.”
“Is there still a Zippy?”
“I wish. The current owners have huskies. They don’t allow dogs inside unless they’re service animals.”
Entering the restaurant, Gemma was immediately enveloped by the scent of brewing coffee, sizzling bacon, and freshly-baked pies. The air hummed with the lively chatter of customers seated at the counter facing the cook. Retro big-band music played softly in the background.
“Hey, Steve.” Tim waved hello to the chef who gestured for them to take a seat at one of the red vinyl booths in the back corner of the diner. Large windows looked out onto the darkened pine forest.
“This is my go-to place whenever I need some comfort food. The Lucky Dog has the best burgers, fries, hot dogs, and milkshakes. I used to come here as a kid every weekend with my dad after fishing on the lake.”
“I love that.”
“I know this might not have been what you were expecting, but this is me in a nutshell.” He handed her one of the laminated double-sided menus situated on the table by the ketchup and mustard. “If you don’t see anything you like, we can go to Millie’s Steakhouse or somewhere else.”
She placed a hand on top of his. “No. This place is perfect.” A few moments of silence elapsed between them as she stared at the menu. “Just remind me when I order to ask for fries instead of chips.”
“Um, sure . . .”
She giggled. “In the UK, chips are the equivalent of American fries. Last time I forgot, and I ended up with a plate of crisps, which are what you call potato chips.”
His eyes widened. “You learn something new every day. I’d always wondered why fish and chips are called fish and chips and not fish and fries.”
“Now you know,” she giggled, then scanned the menu one more time. “I’m debating between the traditional burger and onion rings or the fries.” She glanced over the top. “Which one would you go for?”
“You can’t go wrong with either. Everything is made from scratch.” Tim leaned back in the booth. “How about if we order one of each and split them?”
“You’re okay with having more carbs?”
“Uh-huh. One of the rules of being in the sloth zone is . . .”
“We do everything our own style,” Gemma finished.
“Exactly.”
“Then it’s a deal.”
Gemma watched as Tim waved to the chef again. He nodded and tapped a bell. A couple moments later, a server in a red-and-white checked uniform roller-skated over to their table. Gemma was impressed she was able to glide so effortlessly on the slick tile floor. “Welcome in, Tim and . . . ”
“This is Gemma.”
“And Gemma. Can I get you guys started with drinks? Did you want your usual?”
“Actually, I think we’re ready to order.”
“Perfect.” She pulled a notebook and pencil from a red apron. “What will it be?”
“I’m changing it up on you. Tonight, I think I’ll have the cheeseburger, a Cherry Coke, and an order of fries,” he rattled off.
“And for you?”
Gemma glanced at the menu once more. “May I please have the All-American Burger with the onion rings?”
“Got it. And how do you guys want your meat?”
“Medium rare,” Tim said.
“Well done for me,” Gemma added.
“And your drink, Gemma?”
“Just water.”
Confirming their orders, the server promised she’d be back with their beverages momentarily and skated away.
“What’s your usual order?” Gemma inquired.
“When I splurge, it’s a piece of hot cherry cobbler topped with a scoop of homemade vanilla ice cream.”
She licked her lips. “That sounds much better than pumpkin pie.”
“It is,” he agreed. “The cobblers are popular. On the weekends, they’re gone before the lunch rush. People turn up as soon as the place opens to order whole pies.”
“What about food?”
“I like the hand-carved roast beef sandwich on sourdough, dipped in au jus, with a pickle and coleslaw on the side.”
She cocked her head sideways. “That’s oddly specific.”
He shrugged. “I’m a creature of habit. I know what I like. Why mess with success?”
“I can’t say that I blame you.”
“Do you have any favorite restaurants or food orders?”
Gemma thought about her small townhome near the city limits of Glasgow. “Not especially. There aren’t too many places to eat near my parents’ home except for the pub. Their food is average. I usually order curry, a wrap, or a steak and ale pie. I’ve been spoiled by traveling so much.”
“I can understand that.”
Gazing around the diner, she noticed there were a few black-and-white photos of celebrities adorning the walls, some vintage pinball games, a red-and-chrome jukebox, and a small open space.
“Curious. It looks like they’re missing a booth.”
“No. That’s the dance floor.”
“A dance floor?”
“Uh-huh. After dinner, we can test it out if you’re feeling up to it.”
She fidgeted. “I want to say yes, but . . .” Her eyes traveled to her lower body.
“You’re afraid to push it.”
She nodded. “Another rain check?”
“I’ll do you one better. We’ll go out dancing once you’re feeling better.”
Her lips twisted. “I’m dying to see some of your best dance moves.”
He rested an elbow on the table. “I’m not that good of a dancer.”
“Says the man who played for an exhibition baseball team. I bet you have a couple more moves than Charlie.”
Although he has been taking some ballroom dance lessons.
“I can do a decent box step, waltz, and swing dancing.”
The server returned with their drinks, placing the fizzing Coke in front of Tim and the icy water in front of Gemma. “Is there anything else I can get you two?”
“No, we’re good. Thanks, Selena,” Tim said.
As the waitress left, Gemma mused, “I can see why you’d choose a place like this. It’s cozy and just puts a smile on your face being here.”
Tim smiled. “Totally. This place has a lot of memories. It’s where my parents had their first date, and where I celebrated my high school graduation.”
“Your parents had their first date here?”
“Uh-huh.” He took a drink of his Coke. “I’m the third generation Lyons family member to live here. My grandparents moved here in the 1920s from LA. What about your family? Have they moved around? Or are they all in one place still?”
“My family has lived in Glasgow for a couple generations. My great-great-grandparents are from an area of the Highlands near Fort William. It’s not too far from Ben Nevis, if you’re familiar with hiking.”
“That’s the tallest mountain in the UK?”
“It is.”
He ran a hand over his jaw. “I’m trying to come up with something else clever to say about Scotland, but I’m failing. All I can think about is that it’s the birthplace of golf, there’s a monster that lives in Loch Ness, and not to ask for haggis if I’m at a restaurant.”
“That’s better than most people. I’ll just have to fill in those gaps in knowledge, especially when it comes to Nessie.”
Tim raised an eyebrow. “Do you think the Loch Ness monster exists?”
“I do. The loch is deep and there is no way of knowing for certain all of its secrets. An ancient sea monster might just live in its murky depths.”
Tim laughed. “I believe you, and I agree. I think there’s a monster too. Humans know more about space than we do about the oceans and life under the sea. Amazing, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
They chatted a little more about the legend of the Loch Ness monster and the different sightings people had claimed to have had over the last century. When their food arrived, their conversation circled back to Gemma’s plans.
“My calendar is wide open. The only things I have to make sure I fit in are my PT exercises and some quality girl time with Frankie and Leslie. How about you?”
“Weekdays, I’m free every day after four, except on Wednesdays—then it’ll have to be after five-thirty. The weekends are fully open.”
“What’s on Wednesdays?”
“I coach junior baseball.”
“Can I come to watch a practice?” Gemma asked.
“Sure, but I don’t think you’d find it all that fun. My kids are eight and hitting on a tee.”
“On the contrary, I think it would be a great way for me to observe and learn from a top coach.”
“I’m flattered, but I’m just an average coach.”
“Still, I’d like to come watch.” Reaching for a chip, she glanced around the table. “No mayonnaise?”
“Why would you need mayo?” he asked quizzically.
“For my chips?” she said, gesturing to them.
“That’s not a thing in the States.”
They launched into a spirited debate over the merits of American fries versus British chips. His fun personality was a breath of fresh air amid the uncertainty of the unknown. She knew that with Tim by her side, she’d never wallow in self-pity and he would always help her see the bright side of things. They said laughter was the best medicine of all, and she hoped in this case, it would help her ailing hip heal.
Chapter 13
A few days later, Gemma rapped her knuckles against Tim’s cabin door.
“It’s open,” his voice called out from inside. She turned the doorknob and let herself in. Tim stood in the kitchen, watering the last of his plants on the windowsill. “You’re early. I didn’t expect you until noon.”
“I wanted us to maximize our time together.”
He grinned. “Good to know you find me irresistible.”
She rolled her eyes.
Putting down the blanket she’d borrowed from Frankie, she asked, “What’s on the agenda for today?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“You’re not even going to give me a hint about where we’re heading?”
“It’s somewhere on the coast.”
She pouted. “That doesn’t do me any good. California has a long coast.”
Tim chuckled. “That’s all I’m willing to say for now, except it’s about a two-hour drive to our picnic spot. If you need to use the restroom, I’d do it now. Otherwise, you might be stuck having to use a bush on the side of the road.”
“No, I wouldn’t,” she countered. “I’d wait until you found the nearest petrol station, even if it was quite a few kilometers away, and use its loo.”
Picking up his car keys from the nail by the door, he gestured to a wicker basket on the kitchen island. “Can you manage that?”
“Yes. It’s my hip that’s bad, not my arms.” She flexed her arm muscles. “See, this skater is strong.” He stared for a moment, causing her to suddenly second-guess herself.
He swallowed hard. “If you ever join me at a comic con, I think you’d make the perfect Captain Marvel.”
Is he picturing me in a formfitting bodysuit? Because if he is, I’m okay with it. I work hard to stay strong and I’m proud of the work I’ve put in.
“Is she a self-made superhero like Batman?”
“Most people would say no, but I say yes.” Tim wheeled a cooler behind him, locked the door, then opened the car doors. “Before she was a superhero, Captain Marvel, aka Carol Danvers, was an Air Force fighter pilot. Trust me when I say that speaks volumes about how talented she was just to get that far.”
“How did she gain her powers?” Gemma asked as they got in the car.
“She was caught in an explosion.”
“Uh-huh. And what are her superpowers? Does she fly?”
“Yes, among other things. Her main superpowers have to do with the ability to absorb and manipulate energy.”
“You had me at flying. That’s the one power I’ve always thought was the best. What about you? What would your power be if you weren’t a self-made hero kind of bloke?”
Tim backed the car out of the driveway and out onto the main road. “I’d want to be able to manipulate the weather or to breathe underwater. I wouldn’t want anything that’s too flashy.”
“You know, with the power over the weather, you’d also have the ability to wield thunder, lightning, hurricanes, and all of nature’s most powerful forces,” Gemma countered.
“Fair point.” His eyes crinkled. “In that case, I’d just be happy to make the sun appear at will.”
That old saying is true. With great power comes great responsibility. Having a person like Tim be in control of a lot of power would be important. He’s not the kind of guy who’d abuse it. He’s humble and would only use a small amount of what he’s capable of. That’s exactly the type of person who should have power like that.
Gemma couldn’t believe she was debating what made a good superhero. Tim pushed her to think outside the box.
“I have another question for you. What’s all this about comic cons? Do you go often?”
“Not as much as I’d like. I try to get to LA Comic Con during my spring break. If I’m lucky with the ticket lottery for San Diego Comic Con during the summer, I’ll go to that one too.”
“What do you do at a comic con?”
“For me, the biggest draw is hanging out and attending panels with other people who like the same stuff I do—comics, anime, sci-fi films, et cetera. But there’s other stuff like shopping, and costume contests too.”
“Do you wear a costume?”
“Take a wild guess,” Tim challenged.
She blinked slowly. “Of course you do.”
“It makes the experience more fun. Why limit dressing up to Halloween?”
“What’s your favorite character to portray?”
As Tim began to hum the Batman theme song, Gemma had her answer. She tried to picture what he might look like in a formfitting superhero costume.
Batman is brilliant, but I think I’d prefer you as Captain America.
* * *
The landscape stayed relatively the same for the first forty-five minutes. They were still surrounded by dense forest. State Highway Three seemed to wind around the same mountain for miles and miles. The constant popping of Gemma’s ears, however, told her that they’d changed elevation several times.
Then the trees began to thin out, and as the road descended, she spotted towering sand dunes and the beach. Pelicans, seagulls, and other seabirds circled overhead. Waves broke against the soft-looking white sand.
“I’m surprised there are no people on the beach.”
“The area we’re passing through now is all a protected part of the national seashore. There’s a lot of seabirds that can only nest here.”
“Got it, so no people allowed.” The water sparkled like turquoise jewels under the expanse of a clear blue sky. “I’m kind of glad. It’s beautiful to see what untouched land looks like.”
“Agreed. It reminds me a lot of Costa Rica.” Tim glanced over to his right. “We’re almost there.” He turned the minivan down an unmarked road surrounded on both sides by yet more trees. It bumped along until coming to a stop in a deserted clearing.
“Here we are!” He glanced at the clock. “Right on time too. The warmest part of the day is when they’re the most active.”
Gemma unlatched her seat belt. “When what’s active?”
“What we’ve come to see—monarch butterflies.” Climbing out of the car, he rubbed his hands against his forearms. “We’ll come back for the picnic supplies. For now, all you’ll need is your jacket.”
Her heart dropped, and she swallowed hard. They were going hiking? Would she be able to keep up with him? Why hadn’t she asked what they were doing beforehand? It was her own fault. Now, all she could do was hope that the trail wouldn’t be too steep.
“Um, Tim . . . how far are we going?”
“Not far, maybe a half mile.”
“Uh . . .” She chewed on her lower lip.
“Don’t worry, I thought about it. The part of the path we’re taking is all flat,” he reassured her. His eyes locked with hers. “We can take it as slow as a sloth, if you’d like. If it’s too much for you, I can give you a piggyback ride.”
“I think I can manage.”
“If your hip starts to ache, will you let me know?”
She nodded.
