More Hulk, less Kool-Aid Man.
Oh, yeahhhhhh.
In the morning sunlight, streaks of gold shone in his dark hair and scruffy chin. I couldn't make out the color of his eyes with his dark athletic sunglasses separating us, the type you saw on snowboarders and surfers. Neither option was likely here, a hot second outside Boston.
"These days, I'm a surgeon," he said, interrupting my inspection of his tanned arms and decidedly ring-less fingers. I was pleased on both counts.
"And trail savior," I added, gesturing to the gauze on my knee. "Don't forget about that."
He chuckled, nodding, and met my gaze with a wide, warm smile. Such a nice smile. You could tell a lot about people by their smiles. This guy was honest, kind. A little reserved but not everyone needed to live their life balls out.
"Anytime," he said. "I'm Cal."
"Stella," I replied.
Cal glanced off toward the trail, shaking his head before looking back at me. "Wow," he said, squeezing my calf. "It's nice to finally put a name to the face. After all this time."
I smiled but it was one of those I-don't-get-it smiles. "'All this time'?"
He gazed at me, frowning as if he didn't understand what I didn't understand. "I've been hitting this trail almost every day for months." His voice faded and he stopped himself. He stared at the ground for a long moment, blinking as a blush crept up his neck and across his cheeks. This sweaty pine man-brick had a shy side. "I've seen you out here a lot. I thought—I don't know. I thought you'd seen me too."
Oh.
Ohhhh.
Oh.
3
Cal
Most guys startedoff with a quippy line. I waited a handful of months to approach Stella and then I knocked her to the damn ground. That was just great. Real fucking awesome.
After that smooth move, it was no wonder I didn't know what to say. It was easier to talk about her contusions; I owned that territory. But when I palpated her knee and ankle for more serious injuries, I couldn't keep my touch clinical. Even with gloved fingers, her olive skin felt exactly like the perfection I'd imagined.
Yes. Fine. All right. Half of those thoughts were filthy, sweaty, skin-slapping fantasies. She was the star in every one of my dirty dreams, and until now, I hadn't even known her name.
"Wow," I said to myself, my fingers curling around Stella's calf. "It's nice to finally put a name to the face. After all this time."
Her nose wrinkled and she tilted her head, confused. "'All this time'?" she repeated.
"Yeah," I said, stealing another moment to caress her leg. Memorize the feel of her. Imagine those legs wrapped around my waist. "I've been hitting this trail almost every day for months." I should've stopped right there and been done with it. I should've picked up the clear cues and choked myself with them to keep my mouth shut. I should've stopped digging myself deeper into this big, awkward hole just like I should've stopped before slamming all two hundred pounds of me into her. But I didn't. Nope. Couldn't help myself out of this mess with both hands and a shovel. "I've seen you out here a lot. I thought—I don't know. I thought you'd seen me too."
Her eyes widened and she pulled on a tight, cautious smile. "Um, yeah. Right. Definitely."
Ah, hell. There was a reason I didn't talk to women. It had something to do with always saying the wrong thing at the wrongest moments. And when it came to this woman? Wrong, wrong, all fucking wrong. If I could've hightailed it out of the situation, I would've. But I had wounds to tend and I didn't know how to walk away from a patient. Not even when my life depended on it. There was a bullet hole through my left leg to prove it.
"Oh, no, no. It's okay," Stella said, leaning forward and angling her face to catch my eye. "I'm in my own world when I'm walking, you know? I get into the tunes and block everything else out. I'm sure I've seen you a hundred times. I'm positive. It just took me a minute to catch up. And everyone looks different up close. I notice shoes more than anything else." She glanced down at my sneaks. "Oh, right. Yes! Yes, of course. Orange with the blue laces. I've seen those plenty of times. From a distance, I thought it was orange and purple. Clemson colors. I don't know how you feel about Clemson but I'll just say I'm excited it's blue and not purple."
A noise signaling some form of agreement rumbled in my throat, and I turned my attention to cleaning and bandaging her knees. My brain was on lockdown and I couldn't gather a single thing to say to the curvy, confident woman I'd been lusting after for months. I couldn't tell her my blue laces came with the sneaks and I'd never given any thought to coordinating my collegiate pride with my running gear.
As if sensing my wordless panic, Stella filled the silence with her thoughts on the weather and the Red Sox's prospects this season, her joy in seeing early buds on the lilac trees around town, and the new ducklings she noticed in the pond last week. I was nearly finished cleaning the scratches on her chin when she leveled her dark-eyed gaze on me.
"So, Blue Laces," she said, her smile deepening until dimples appeared. "How can I thank you for peeling me off the trail and patching me up?"
"No, that's not necessary. It was my fault to begin with." I stared at the birthmark beneath her ear. Too light for a freckle, too dark for a scar, too flat for a mole. It looked like Turkey. The country, not the bird overtaking the streets of Cambridge. "You don't have to thank me. I'm the one who knocked you over."
Stella nodded. "Right. Coffee sounds great. How about Seven Pond? It's a cute little spot. Do you know where that is?" She patted her hips until her fingers located her key fob. Goddamn, there were hidden pockets in those leggings and now I needed to find out what else she had in there. "Either way, you can follow me."
