Page 69 of Raging Fires

“Ha.” Jake leaned down to murmur in her ear, “You know just how good my hands are.”

Then he straightened, hooked an arm around her waist and led her up to the wall. After he’d chalked up her hands with a weird oxymoron called liquid chalk and showed her which “problem” she’d be climbing, Kelli took a deep breath and stepped up the wall. She was glad for the chalk—her hands were already sweating beneath it.

“So that’s the first handhold. You can tell because it’ll have a little card with the grade on it. You start with a match there—that’s both hands on the hold.”

“That’s what the instructor was talking about, right? You have to start and end with two hands?”

“Exactly. Now put your foot there and use your legs to push yourself up to the next hold.” Jake pointed. “Relying on your legs and keeping your arms straight when you climb will keep your upper body from tiring out as quickly.”

“It seems like your arms should be bent.” Kelli frowned.

“You wouldn’t carry a really heavy shopping bag with bent arms would you? Why would you want to pull your whole…”

Kelli turned back around to him and gave him a hard look. “Be very careful what you say next.”

“Pull your very tiny amount of body weight up entirely with your biceps? Now, come on. Just try it. It’s easier than I’m making it sound right now.”

“Are you done giving tips? Because I’m gonna be much less receptive to them once my ‘very tiny body weight’ is hanging from a 6-inch piece of plastic.”

“Tip portion of the program is over. I’ll just help you find the route. If you want.”

It took exactly two holds before Kelli called back to him. “I want!”

With a chuckle, Jake said, “Look to your left and the next logical handhold is up there.”

Jake had pointed out one that was very far away.

“Can’t I just do that one?” Kelli jerked her head at a purple one closer to her.

“That’s more of a foothold, also it’s a different color. That means it’s for a different problem.”

“How can you tell it’s a foothold?” Kelli knew that prolonging this exchange would just increase the difficulty, but procrastinating making that next jump was still pretty appealing.

“You look for chalk build up. If a hold is practically white on top, it’s a handhold. If it barely has any chalk, most are using it as a foothold. Now stop asking questions and go for the next hold on this route.”

“Jake, I can’t reach that.”

“Sure you can.”

“Easy for you to say. You have arms like a gorilla. Not to mention long legs. I have short stubby arms and short stubby legs.”

Jake snorted. “Well, your short stubby arms are strong; you have nice biceps from carrying those trays for years.” He stepped on the bottom foothold and reached up to curl his hand around her upper arm. “Anyway, what powers your moves are those short stubby legs. You have to kind of leap for it. Put one foot on that tilted foothold, bend your knee, then push off and grab it.”

Jake was right behind her, his heat enveloping her, which was decidedly distracting. Kelli pulled her mind away and took a deep breath, then did as he said. As she sprang toward the handhold, she could see she wasn’t going to quite reach it, but Jake planted his hand firmly on her bottom and propelled her on. She grabbed the handhold, and it sent a thrill of accomplishment through her, even with Jake’s help. She looked down at him, laughing. “Is that why you wanted to do this? So you could cop a feel?”

“No. That’s just an added bonus.” He grinned and jumped back down to the floor. “I wanted to do this so I could stand here and watch you in those little exercise shorts.”

Kelli turned back to the wall and went on. It took her longer than she’d expected after seeing the instructor scramble up so fast, but she finally reached the top and raised one arm in triumph. Below her, Jake roared out a “Yes!”

Jake was right. It was fun. She enjoyed the challenge—puzzling out how to reach the next handhold or foot rest—and succeeding was a real rush. Worries and problems left her mind as she concentrated only on the climb.

And it didn’t hurt that she could sit on a bench and guzzle water and watch Jake climb the wall. His muscles bunched as he lifted and swung, his t-shirt clinging to him as he sweated. She could almost feel him, taste him, smell him—that mixture of Jake and sweat and cologne had never failed to light a fire in her.

When had fun become such a foreign thing to her? She hadn’t noticed it, really, until Jake returned, but she could see now how much joy had seeped out of her life. She’d come running back to the safe cocoon of Phoenix and the Blue after the divorce, shielding herself from the pain by diving into work.

She’d done extra shifts. She’d taken business classes at the community college. She’d shadowed Pops, learning the business of the bar in a way she had never bothered to when she first worked there. Back then her only interests had been Jake and enjoying life. Now her life became only work, and she’d wrapped that knot of hurt and sorrow in more and more layers of busy-ness.

The unhappiness had disappeared. The gloom had lifted. But pleasures had been muted, emotions tamped down. Then Jake had come back and pierced all those layers she’d built. The old pain had come out, the anger and sorrow, but it had opened her up again to all those other feelings—the joy, the fun, the enthusiasm.