“Wait a second. I thought she was the bad guy? When did I become the bad guy?”
“When she bribed us with spa services,” Diego explained.
Noah shook his head. “Well, the three of you will have to finish planning your little spa date later, cause right now it’s time to stop fucking around and get back to work.”
“See what I mean?” Jenn returned to her paperwork. Diego went back to the life vests.
Which left me alone again with Noah.
He pointed at the wall. “Let’s go, Miss Li. Up and at ‘em.” He put firm hands on my shoulders and spun me back around. His hands moved over my harness again, testing each connectionpoint, yanking straps and slapping buckles for what felt like the hundredth time. His chest pressed against my back. His breath felt warm on my neck.
Standing there with his hands all over me, I realized I was basically at his mercy. Beholden to his every whim. For some demented reason, that book about the billionaire with all the sex fetish stuff popped into my head.
“You’re not secretly a billionaire, are you?” I asked before I could stop myself.
“Huh?” Noah paused, his hands on my waist.
“Never mind,” I muttered, heat creeping up my neck.
It seemed Noah’s only whim was to make me climb up tiny plastic rocks. He guided my hands to the right spots, the chalk on his fingers leaving dusty prints on my arms like evidence at a crime scene.
“Left foot there,” he said, tapping my ankle with his boot. “Now, reach up with your right hand.”
I stretched toward the hold he’d indicated, but my arms felt like overcooked noodles after yesterday’s paddling. “I can’t ...”
“Yes, you can.” His hand settled on my hip, steadying me. “Push with your legs, not your arms. Climbing is all in the lower body.”
From across the room, I caught Diego elbowing Jenn, both of them wearing knowing smirks. Jenn whispered something that made Diego snort-laugh.
“Focus,” Noah said, still way too close. “Keep your hips close to the wall.”
“That’s what she said,” Diego muttered, earning a smack from Jenn.
I tried to concentrate on the holds in front of me, but Noah’s proximity was scrambling my brain cells faster than a high-speed blender. His breath tickled my neck as he adjusted my grip on a particularly sketchy hold.
“Better,” he said. “Now shift your weight to the left.”
I followed his instructions, hyperaware of his hand still resting on my hip. When I glanced over, Diego was making exaggerated kissing faces at Jenn.
“Eyes on the wall,” Noah commanded, completely oblivious to our audience’s silent comedy show. “Trust your feet.”
I shifted my weight, finding my balance without Noah’s support. My fingers curled around the next hold, legs pushing just like he’d shown me. One move at a time, I climbed a few feet up the wall.
“Look at that, you’re a natural,” Noah said, his voice carrying a note of surprise. He stepped back, letting out the rope. “Time to fly solo. Show us what you’ve got.”
My stomach clenched as I looked up at the ceiling. The wall stretched above me like a skyscraper. I reached for the next hold, found my footing, and pulled myself higher.
Halfway up, my arms started shaking. Sweat trickled down my back, making my shirt cling like flypaper. The holds seemed to shrink with each movement. My fingers ached from gripping the tiny edges.
“I don’t know.” My voice cracked.
“You’re doing great,” Noah called up. “If you make it to the top, maybe I’ll bake you another batch of muffins.”
I groaned. “They were good, but not that good.” But even as I complained, my arms kept moving, finding the next hold. This wasn’t about muffins or proving Noah wrong. I was determined to help them.
My muscles burned with each move. The top anchor seemed impossibly far away, but I continued making progress. Slow. Steady. But I was doing it. I was actuallydoingit.
“Come on, Sam!” Diego shouted. “Show that wall who’s boss!”
