He lets out a huff of air that might be a laugh. “I was hoping you wouldn’t call my bluff and say we should just be friends. I don’t think I could bear not being able to kiss you.” And kiss me he does, until my head is spinning once again.
This kiss lasts only a fraction of the length of our last one. It’s probably a good thing, because I might have ended up wrestling him to the ground and having my way with him. The man knows how to kiss; I’ve never been so turned on just from kissing, and it makes me wonder what other magical things Hugh can do with his tongue.
We gather the remnants of our picnic and pack everything back into Hugh’s bag. A secret smile passes between us as we head out, skipping the trail we climbed up in favor of the less steep path. Hugh takes my hand, and after a few minutes of walking in silence, says casually, “If day by day is too difficult, you could quit your job and come to Scotland with me.”
I burst out laughing, the sound startling woodland creatures who haven’t tucked themselves away for hibernation yet. Hugh starts chuckling along with me, which, paired with the light way he spoke assures me he was kidding. Becauseof coursehe was kidding. The notion is ludicrous. We barely know each other. “I’ll keep that in mind,” I say. “Always good to have options, right?”
He squeezes my hand, but doesn’t say anything else until the path narrows and he suggests I go ahead so I can set the pace like before. My hand slips from his and I give him an absent smile as I take the lead. I attempt to keep my thoughts blank except for focusing on the trail. My mind begins to wander, though, first to what Hugh said a minute ago and then to our pre-makeout conversation about my job.
The thing is, I’ll likely end up staying at Quest. It pays well, has good benefits, and Bridget is there. It’s different now that she’s my boss, but since she climbed the corporate ladder, there are times when the only face-to-face I get with her is at work. Lots of people don’t love their jobs, yet they continue to go every day because they need to make a living. I’ll just have to find some fulfilling hobbies to make up for not being passionate about my work anymore.
Maybe Iwilltake up hiking. This has been invigorating. I have a feeling part of it has to do with the company, but I could do this on my own. At the very least I could start walking until the weather turns bad. Who knows, I might become one of those people who actually enjoys physical activity. If that was the case, I could look into getting proper boots or maybe even snowshoes so I could keep walking through the winter.
I’m so busy contemplating my need to find things that will give me a renewed lust for life, I don’t see the sudden dip in the trail. I step right into it, twisting my ankle. My balance wavers and I tip over, hitting the ground hard. The momentum of the fall carries me forward and I roll partway down the hill, landing splayed out face-first in the dirt.
“Oh god,” I moan. This would be a great time for the earth to open up and swallow me whole. “Ohhh shit,” I moan louder as the pain begins to register, first in my ankle, followed by my knees.
Hugh skids to a stop beside me, dropping his backpack in the dirt near my head. He crouches at my side, his warm hand landing lightly on my back. “Are you all right, love? Can you move?”
I shift my body tentatively, limb by limb. Nothing seems to be broken, although my right ankle is starting to throb. “Please tell me we’re actually still at the top of the hill and I fell asleep and I’m having a nightmare,” I mutter into the dirt that’s way too close to my face.
Hugh makes a sound I think is a stifled laugh. I don’t look at him to verify. “I’m going to help you sit up, okay? Tell me if anything hurts and I’ll stop.” He rolls me gently to my side and eases me into a sitting position, murmuring, “Easy does it,” as we go. Once I’m sitting up, he shifts around in front of me and dusts some leaves and dirt off my shirt before meeting my eyes. “Okay?”
“My ankle,” I say in a wobbly voice. It doesn’t hurt bad enough to be broken. At least I hope. I ache all over, but I’m more embarrassed than anything. Hugh asks which ankle, and I point to the right one. He plunks down in the dirt beside me, lifting my foot onto his lap with one hand while pulling his backpack closer with the other.
With slow, steady movements, he works my shoe off and gently prods my ankle. I suck in a breath and he winces in sympathy, meeting my eyes briefly before returning his gaze to my foot. His rough hands inch over my skin, pressing here and there.
“Not broken,” he says. “Likely sprained. I’ll wrap it and we’ll head to the hospital.”
“No, no, not the hospital,” I plead. I hate hospitals. At the mere mention of it, my body floods with panic and my mind fills with memories of the aftermath of my parents’ car accident, and then years later sitting with Bridget and her mom when Mr. Higgins was brought in.
Hugh’s eyebrows lower further as he studies my face. Finally, he reaches into his bag and roots around, eventually pulling out a tensor bandage.
“That thing really is like a TARDIS,” I say, hoping to distract him from further thoughts of the hospital. “What else do you have in your bag of tricks?”
He hands it over and I peer inside. What looks like a homemade first aid kit is lying on top. I inspect the contents while Hugh wraps my ankle, his big hands surprisingly quick and gentle. After securing the bandage, he lifts my pant leg and runs his hands up my leg and over my knee. I say a silent prayer of thanks to whoever might be listening for the fact I shaved my legs this morning. He does the same to the other leg, and for a fraction of a second while his hands glide up my leg, I forget about the pain in my ankle.
“You’ll likely have some bruises pop up in interesting places over the next few days,” he says. “I’d still feel better if we went to the hospital, but if you insist, we’ll skip it. It’s swelling a bit now, which is normal. Just keep an eye on it, make sure you don’t lose motion in it. Maybe make an appointment with your family practitioner if you have one.”
“I do. He’s great,” I say quickly, glad he’s not pressing the hospital issue. “I’ll call Monday and I’m sure his receptionist will squeeze me in.”
“Okay then.” He opens a small packet of painkillers from inside his kit and hands me a bottle of water. Once I’ve swallowed the pills, he gets to his feet. In one swift motion, he hooks his hands under my armpits and hauls me to my feet. “Now. Shall I give you a piggyback the rest of the way?”
A slightly hysterical-sounding laugh escapes me. “I’m sure I can walk.”
“I’m sure you can too, but I think the sooner you get off that ankle the better.” He peels my backpack off me and stuffs it into his own bag before securing the whole thing to my back. He turns and kneels in the dirt with his back to me. “Hop on.”
“Hugh. This is nuts.” I suddenly wish I were anywhere else right now. With his Boy Scout tendencies, I wonder if there’s anything in his bag we could use to fashion a toboggan of sorts that I could sit on and he could pull me. Anything would be better than climbing onto his back, wrapping my legs around his waist, and having him carry me all the way down the hill to his car.
He sighs. It’s quiet, but the forest is too, so I hear it easily. I’m sure he doesn’t want to haul my ass down this hill any more than I want him to. “I really don’t think you should be walking. This is the safest way for me to carry you because it leaves my arms free for balance.”
“Balance is good. Balance means we don’t both end up in a heap at the bottom of the hill.”
“One spill is enough for today,” he agrees. “Now come on. Up you get.”
I consider making a joke about mounting him, but stop myself before the words leave my mouth. Once I’m situated on his back, he stands with ease. He shifts me around a bit and I clutch his shoulders in a death grip until we’re settled and he starts walking. After a few minutes, I say, “Hugh?”
“Hmm?”
