Someone chuckles from beside me, and I turn to a lady fanning her face with a beige hat. “I always bring my pee cloth so I can go out in the wild, ya know.” She pivots, showing me a triangle cloth clipped to her backpack.
What is a pee cloth, and why did no one tell me about this? Not that I want to pee on a bush and risk emotionally scarring a squirrel, but this seems like a good thing to have just in case.
“Yeah…I didn’t expect…that.” I gesture to the line.
“I’m Sue, by the way. My husband and I do a hike together every year for our anniversary.” She motions to the man in the line wearing the same matching brown Hawaiian print shirt as her. “He thinks he’s Indiana Jones.” She rolls her eyes when he tips his hat at her, then hooks his thumbs over the belt beneath his protruding belly.
“I’m Willow.” I lift a hand and wave, even though I’m standing two feet away from her. Sue scans every item I’m wearing and carrying like she’s measuring me up, telling herself at least she’s notthisunprepared and haggard looking.
We continue walking while she asks too many personal questions for someone I’ve just met, lacking a sense of boundaries and personal space in general. Her husband eventually whisks her away, his eyes turning to me apologetically.
The edge of the cliff beckons me near, offering a teasing glimpse of more switchbacks leading farther down. Hands on my hips, I marvel at the variety of rock layers—the canyon’s shameless display of its age. I’m kind of envious that it only gets more beautiful each year.
I’m sweaty and embarrassingly out of breath as I head back to the path, trying to absorb as much of the scenery as possible. I’m wishing there was a way to bottle it up and take it with me when another breathtaking view captures my attention.
Jack.
My eyes run over the strong, broad shoulders that must be carrying the weight of the world. He holds his cowboy hat against his leg, his other hand running through his inky black hair that’s longer on the top with a slight wave to it, and I want to run my fingers through the strands to see if I could make that stubborn curl on his forehead behave.
There’s a part of me, one I should be chastising, that’s quite thrilled to find him here. It already has me wanting to rethink the whole solo aspect of this trek. Sticking close to Jack also has the potential benefit of providing a deterrent for Chad and Brandon.
I mean, if Ihaveto have company, Jack is the obvious choice, right?
With a new mission, I pivot and head in Jack’s direction, my breathing slightly labored. I attempt to slow it down so I don’t sound like I’m dying. But walking toward him is giving me the same thrill I feel when I enter my favorite clothing store, only I’ve swapped the soft caress of cashmere on my fingers with the sweet anticipation of getting under this man’s skin. My nerves are all tingly at the thought. That permanent scowl and eyes that warn ‘don’t approach’ are like a bright green poke-me sign flashing above his head as he replaces his hat, shadowing his rugged face.
He isn’t in uniform today, although he still has the ranger hat. With the way his sleeves hug his biceps, the man should be considered armed and dangerous to the female population.
Lord help us, my preteen self says with a smug nod,we have a type.
Looking at him feels like staring at the most gorgeous satin dress and being forbidden to touch it.
But Imustpoke that bear.
Yesterday I planned to avoid him. Today, my plan is the more fun of two evils. I can either continue with Chad and Brandon buzzing around, or I can stick near Jack for a little while. An hour, tops.
A smirk that I’m not even trying to hide curls my mouth as I approach. He stands just beside the path that continues down, trying to appear casual, but there’s nothing casual about this man. His eyes are burning holes into everything around him, but they eventually settle on me, a frown still in place. I stop two feet away, lifting my chin to meet his eyes.
“Hi.” I smile, appreciating the cream-colored shirt hugging his muscles. It’s a color I would normally find repellent, because of my family history, but I seem to have discovered an appreciation for the hue.
He grunts out some form of a greeting, and as expected, those dark brows dip lower, ever so slightly.
“You must get a lot of tension headaches.”
“What?” He scowls in confusion.
“You know, ‘cause of all the frowning,” I say, motioning to his face. A burning curiosity rises within me, and I have to know what he looks like without that scowl. I lift my hand, intending to ease the tightness between his brows. It’s a breach of his personal space on many levels, but I figure I’m not all that threatening. Surely, he won’t be too upset.
“Wh—what are you doing?” He flinches, avoiding my touch.
“Would you stay still for just a second?” I grumble. “I won’t bite. I just wanna see something.”
“You know I’m an officer of the law, right? I could arrest you for assault.”
Iroll my eyes but decide on a different approach.
He frowns at the straps of my backpack as if Marigold has personally offended him. But then he quickly shifts his focus to my face, making my heart beat a little faster.
He’s still except for the rise and fall of his broad chest with each breath.
