At First Sight

Chapter Four

 The girl looked at his hand reluctantly and took it, before bringing the fingernail of her free hand to her mouth. “I’m Copeland.”

“Copeland,” he echoed, “Namaste.”

Her hand moved from her mouth, tucking the wayward strands of long, chestnut colored hair behind her ear. “I know it’s weird but it was my mom’s best friends last name and she died before I was born, so-”

Drew cut her off. “Copeland is a great name.”

She smiled, but it was cautious and reserved. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Can you climb the hill?”

She looked down at the ground and his eyes followed. Her tiny feet were drowning in a very large pair of shoes that were most definitely meant for a guy.

Drew quirked an eyebrow and gestured to her feet. “It’s no wonder you fell,” he said. “Those look a little on the large side.”

“They’re my brother’s.”

“Did you put them on in the dark?”

She shook her head. “I oppose shoes. Mine are probably buried somewhere in the back of our van.”

He laughed. “You oppose shoes?”

“Yes,” she said pointedly. “They’re too confining. Like prison for your feet.”

Okay, well that was a first.

Countless people’s ideals stated that angels came from above but he’d never heard that they tumbled down hills in pale pink sundresses, with a camera strapped to their neck wearing some dude’s gnarly Vans. No way was she scaling that hill in those shoes.

Drew bent down, scooping her up at the waist and tossing her over his shoulder.

She let out a yelp, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you get up the hill without hurting yourself anymore than you already have.” Her hair was so damned long, he could feel it brushing the back of his knees.

“My knee is probably bleeding on your shirt.” 

“It’s an old shirt.”

“I’m in a dress,” she protested.

“I’m not looking. Relax and try and keep your shoes on.”

“My brother’s shoes,” she corrected. “And what about your guitar?”

“It’s not going anywhere,” he said. “It doesn’t have shoes.”

“Very funny.”

He thought so.

He ascended the embankment and when they reached the top, he set her on her feet. Shoes secured.

He held up a finger. “Stay right there.” He made his way back down to get his guitar and climbed up the hill again.

It took less than five minutes to arrive at his campsite. He pointed to one of the chairs he’d brought. “Have a seat. I’ll get my first aid kit.” As he dug through the contents of his bag for the kit, he wondered how he was going to convince her to give up the photo. She seemed like a determined girl, that’s for sure.

He grabbed the kit and turned. Copeland sat on the chair with her knees together and her hands folded in her lap, hair cascading to her waist. Almond shaped eyes that were golden with flecks of green were absolutely fixed on every move he made. He sat in front of her and offered a smile, which she returned with lips that were full and swollen, like they’d been stung by a honey bee.