Hard Wood Read online

  “Stop it. You know I think baby birds are adorable, and you’re clearly allowed to think they’re cute, too.”

  “And what about foxes? Like your foxy ink?”

  “Foxes are the cutest things ever.”

  I stop, cross my arms, and peer over my shades. In a voice for her ears only, I give her what she wants at last. “Jackrabbit, I only have eyes for you.”

  Even though we’re side by side, gazing at the water, I can tell her grin is spreading far and wide.

  The second night is tougher.

  But my copy of A River Runs Through It—the book, not the Brad Pitt flick—keeps me occupied, as does a few hours of work, checking in with Dana on the other tours underway, and touching base with clients and suppliers. Before I’m ready to hit the hay, Daisy sends me a picture of Zeus rubbing his cheek against the pot of catnip, captioned: It’s high time you gave him the herb!

  I laugh, then because I’m sure Mia would love to see this, I leave my room and find her curled up on a chair in the living room of the inn, reading a National Geographic piece on Arctic exploration. I grab the chair across from her and show her the screen. “He likes your gift.”

  She sets down the magazine. “Please have him make a list of his likes and dislikes so I can continue to bestow only the finest presents upon him when I’m living in New York.”

  Mia in New York. Those words sound foreign. The idea of her living in the same city as me feels strange and almost unreal. Maybe because we’re riding this in-between state right now, trying to balance all these other complications—her move, my friendship with her brother, and then the most inconvenient hurdle of all—the current can’t-touch-this situation.

  I’d really like to touch her, just to reconnect. Her knee. Her shoulder. Her hair. I’m a starving man, and any morsel will do.

  “Zeus looks forward to your generosity.” That feels even more surreal, as if I’m talking to her through my cat who’s not even here. What I really want to say is I look forward to showering you with affection every single day. And then you’ll tell me how much you can’t wait for that, too.

  Why the fuck don’t I say that? Maybe because Max’s warning threw me off. And maybe I’m giving it too much power. But I don’t know Mia’s whole heart yet, either. She hasn’t shared it with me. The last thing I want is to scare her off. I want to nurture this burgeoning thing between us, give it every chance to become all I want it to be. That’s why I’ve kept my mouth shut. After all, one small bout of jealousy is hardly her asking me if she can move in. We’re not entirely on the same page here.

  Mia cocks her head to the side. “Do you miss him when you travel? Zeus?”

  I flip over my phone and check out the shot of the little dude once more. “I do miss him.” I hold her gaze. “What about you?”

  She licks her lips, her eyes locked with mine, her voice low and soft. “I do miss him. I miss him a lot.”

  We’re not entirely talking about the cat.

  But I’m not entirely sure what we’re saying, either.

  That’s the problem.

  I want us both to say the same things, to feel the same emotions, and to want this great, big love I believe we can have. And someone is going to need to step it up and speak first.

  But if I say all that now, it hardly seems like I’m following my own guidelines. And if we’re trying to put the genie back in the bottle, now’s not the time for nookie—or for declarations of I need you with me always.

  The next day the backpacking begins, and I lead the Pure Beauty crew over the hills and through the woods, stopping to snap photos and to breathe in the views—peaks, valleys, and toweringly tall green trees. In the afternoon, we arrive at the campsite, and I work with Blair to set up the tents for the first of two nights in the great outdoors.

  A little later around the campfire, Mia runs through more of her team-building and bonding games, including an impromptu round of “What’s your special talent?” Mia shows off her party trick, a walking handstand that easily lasts twenty feet. I crack up since it looks like her hands and arms work as upside-down feet and legs. I get a chance to show off mine, too. Making the most kick-ass s’mores ever. Blair helps me with the marshmallows, and for a moment I wonder if Mia’s jealousy will return, but she seems focused on her job.

  Which I admire.

  Selfishly, though, I wish she’d turn her focus elsewhere.

  But when it’s dark and quiet, and only the owls are hooting and the crickets are chirping, she does just that.

  25

  Her silhouette frames the flap of the tent as she unzips it, glances behind her, and whispers, “Coast is clear.”

  I smile at the sight of her sneaking into my tent at midnight. This is a fantasy come to life.

  But I silently curse my reality. I can’t get any closer to her. That’s too risky. Too tempting. I don’t stop her, though, from crawling into my tent. Surely I can be near her without kissing her senseless and sliding her under me.

  Mia sits cross-legged, her dimples peeking at me briefly.

  “Hi,” she whispers, taking me back instantly to her hi the night we were first together in my bed.

  “Hey.” I shift in my sleeping bag, propping myself on my elbow.

  “I shouldn’t be here,” she says softly, her lips curving in a guilty grin.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” I echo.

  She looks at the tent flap, zipped down. “I don’t want to go.”

  “I don’t want you to go.”

  “Therein lies the dilemma,” she murmurs. She takes a deep breath. “Should I go?”

  “You should . . .” I inch my hand closer to her.

  She glances down at my wandering fingers. “I don’t want to tempt . . .”

  Heat rushes over my skin. “Tempt you or me?”

  She swallows. “Either one of us.”

  I draw a deep breath. “Guess there’s nothing wrong with us just talking, right?”

  She shakes her head. “Nothing at all.”

  I reach her leg and run my fingers across her shin where her yoga pants stop. Her lips fall open in a gasp, and her hand flies to her mouth, covering her sound. A grin plays on my lips. I love that the slightest touch from me turns her on.

  “How are you?” I ask.

  “I’m turned on now, and it’s all your fault.”

  My fingers travel higher to her knee.

  She bites her lip and scoots closer. I brush my fingertips over her thigh, and she closes her eyes, her lips parting as a soft sigh of pleasure falls from them.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” I whisper again.

  “I shouldn’t be here,” she says, as if she’s in a trance.

  My fingers roam up her legs, and I register every move she makes. The way her knees subtly open wider. How she stretches her neck. The way her hair falls against her skin. How her back arches, as a shudder runs through her whole body when my hand reaches hers and I take it in mine.

  “Why are you here then?” I ask, craving her answer. It’s torture, absolute torture being this close to her. But I welcome it because even some of Mia is worth the torment.

  Her breath is ragged. Her eyes flutter open. She leans closer, bringing her face nearer to mine. “You’re hard to resist,” she says, and her admission spreads warmth all through me.

  “I like knowing it’s hard for you, too.” My fingers continue their journey, reaching her hip. “Why do you have a fox tattoo? I never asked you before.”

  She smiles. “A fox was the first animal I rescued in the wild.”

  “Yeah?”

  “When I was nine, I found a little kit in the woods near my home. My parents were working, so Max helped me bring it safely to the house, and he called WildCare while Chase tended to it.”

  I laugh softly. “Dr. Chase’s beginnings as a foxy doctor, revealed on the ten p.m. news.”

  “The truth comes out.”

  “That’s why you volunteer at WildCare.”

  “That�
��s why I do what I do at Pure Beauty,” she says with passion. “I love animals, and I’ve wanted to help them my whole life. I don’t want to hurt them; I don’t want to test on them. That’s why I started this company, because I love pretty scents and smells and lotions and potions, and I want to show that it’s possible to have everything coexist.”

  I squeeze her thigh. “I love that you feel that way. It’s a gift to do what you love.”

  “Didn’t your favorite writer say, Do what you love. Know your own bone; gnaw at it, bury it, unearth it, and gnaw it still?”

  “Been studying up on Thoreau’s best quotes?”

  “Maybe I have. I believe that, too, though. That’s why I want to do right by Pure Beauty.” She tips her head to indicate the others in their tents, and nervousness flicks across her eyes. “I want them to enjoy working with me. And I hope they’re having a good time, but also learning and growing.”

  “They are,” I assure her.

  “Thank you for doing such an amazing job, Patrick. These few days have been incredible so far.”

  “I’m glad you feel that way. And that’s also why I won’t pull you into my sleeping bag right now. I love what I do, too. I want to do right by my people, as well.”

  “You are doing right by them.” She lays her hand on my sleeping bag, finding and then pressing my hip. “And by me.”

  I stifle a groan as she repays me by traveling across my hipbone to my leg, and then to the outline of my erection.

  I grab her hand, stopping her. “I can’t.”

  She swallows and nods. “I know. I’m sorry,”

  “Don’t be sorry,” I whisper. “Just come back when it’s over.”

  She leans near me, her hair framing her face, tickling my cheeks. “Good night, Patrick,” she whispers, then she backs out of the tent, zipping it closed.

  She’s gone, and there’s a part of me that thinks she won’t come back. There’s a dark part of my heart that fears this surreal sliver of time is all I’ll ever have with her. That we won’t ever be on the same page. What if Max was right to worry about me meeting the same fate as that other guy?

  The guy she didn’t love enough.

  I should be happy with her unexpected midnight visit. Instead, I’m left not only with an annoying erection, but also with this persistent ache for her in my heart.

  Good night, Patrick.

  I love you, Mia.

  That’s what I want to say.

  That’s what I want to tell her.

  I park my hands under my head and stare at the roof of my tent, wishing I could ask her if we’re on the same page, if she’ll come back when this is over. Instead, I’m searching for the answer in a night sky I can’t even see.

  But there are no stars to guide me.

  In the morning, I rise before everyone else, as the early blue light of dawn begins painting the horizon. I survey the campsite, the orange and green and yellow tents dotting the ground.

  I take a deep breath, turn, and walk away from the clearing, along a trail I know well. I have always found answers in the outdoors. Trees have never led me astray, and sunrises have constantly anchored me. The earth has always been honest. I flash back to the moments in my life when I felt the same weight in my chest, a heavy unknown ache.

  Where to go to college.

  What to study.

  Whether to pursue a safe, comfortable career in an office or to take a chance at building a business doing what I love.

  Now I need another answer. I need to know if it’s time to go all in one more time. To bet everything.

  The trouble is, ever since Max told me about Eric, I’ve been determined to prove I’m different from a guy I know nothing about.

  That’s what’s driving me crazy.

  My focus has been all wrong.

  As I walk along the trail, the lightening sky keeping me company, I think of Mia, and all the times we’ve shared. I think of our nights, our days, our moments. I’ve been so caught up in whether they’ll become more than that, that I’m not sure I’ve seen them completely for what they are.

  My perfect days.

  I remember the time I took Mia and Zeus for a hike near Cold Spring, and she quoted my favorite writer. “I took a walk in the woods and came out taller than the trees.”

  But that’s not the Thoreau quote that drives me on. Instead, the one that’s been my compass and my guide does. The one about walking toward your dream, and living the life you’ve imagined.

  Mia is the life I’ve imagined. She’s the dream I want to make real.

  No more of this surreal stuff. I’m not interested in an in-between state. I can’t dwell on moments, and I definitely can’t dwell on the past.

  The other guy? The one she never loved? I know now he doesn’t matter. He has nothing to do with us. What unfolds between Mia and me is between us, and I have it in my power to do everything I can to make sure she’s mine.

  Starting with telling her how much I want her to be my future. All of it, all of her. Always.

  I turn around and head in the direction of the campsite.

  26

  But finding the right moment to confess my feelings will have to wait until we’re off this mountain. Besides, we’re surrounded by twenty-five people most of the time.

  Two days later, we pack up, ready to say goodbye to both the backpacking and the trip, which ends with a picnic at the inn this afternoon.

  I’m itching to say goodbye to this trip. It’s been a good one, but boy, do I want it over right the hell now. I need time with only Mia.

  On the hike down the mountain, the day is nearly perfect, with beautiful blue skies lined with only a few clouds. The weather app on my phone predicts a few summer showers for later in the day, but honestly, I’ve never met a summer shower I didn’t like. Bring it on.

  We stop for photos, and a particularly scenic vista elicits oohs and aahs from the whole crew. The Sierra Nevada peaks rise majestically in the distance. I suggest a group shot at a large boulder. My phone has been on battery saver mode the whole time, except for morning weather checks, so it still has juice. I turn on the camera and snap a picture. Lisa holds up a finger telling me to wait and grabs a digital camera from her backpack. She’s been shooting photos throughout the trip for the company blog. “Take one with mine, too. I'm old school. I like digital cameras better."

  I shoot several, and the smiles on all their faces make it clear how much they’ve enjoyed this adventure tour. They’re more ready than before for their next journey together—one that will take them across the country. Maybe that sounds cheesy. Hell, maybe that is cheesy. But the way I see it, a little cheese never hurt anyone—a company or a person.

  Or a sandwich for that matter.

  Which reminds me that I need to introduce Mia to my grilled cheese sandwiches once she’s in New York. I have a feeling my hungry jackrabbit will like them.

  We wind around switchbacks, cross a small stream, and step over a few fallen branches. When we reach the parking lot, the crew disperses to their vehicles, tossing packs into cars and chatting about showers, picnics, and the move to New York. Lisa closes the trunk then stops in her tracks at the driver’s door. A long ugh bursts from her mouth as she pats her pockets and unzips all the sections on her backpack.

  “I think I forgot my camera,” she says, a terribly guilty look on her face.

  Mia shakes her head, reassuring her. “No worries. I’ll go back and get it.”

  “I’m pretty sure I left it on the rock where we took the last photo after Patrick returned it to me. It’s not a problem for me to go grab it. You don’t have to,” Lisa says, taking a step that way.

  Mia shoos her to her car. “Go to the inn. Freshen up. I’ll get it. That was only twenty minutes back up the trail.”

  Thirty, to be precise.

  Lisa frowns. “You don’t have to, Mia.”

  I pipe in, “I’ll go with you, Mia. It’s always better to have two on the trails.”

  “Go
od plan,” she says, then turns to Lisa. “Just save some hot water for me.”

  Lisa gives her a thumbs-up. “Deal. And thank you.”

  Mia calls out to the group, “The rest of you go on ahead and get started. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

  Mia is a chatty bird on the way up, recounting the trip, her favorite moments, and the things her team have said about the tour. She’s singing my company’s praises, and I couldn’t be happier about that, even though I’d rather be talking about us. But she seems to need this, so I do what I sense she most wants—I listen.

  A half hour later, I spot a shiny black object gleaming in the dirt next to the boulder. Mia snatches it and clutches it to her chest. “Eureka!”

  On the way downhill, Mia skips a few steps, turns around, and says, “Want to know what I’m most looking forward to?”

  Since this is pretty much the only time we’ve been alone since she appeared in my tent, I wiggle an eyebrow, and say in a suggestive tone, “What are you most looking forward to?”

  I expect her to say something dirty or flirty in return.

  Instead, she peers down at her T-shirt, tugging at the neckline, then sniffing it. “A shower.”

  I laugh. “I’m sure you smell just fine.”

  She turns around and resumes the downhill trek. “I beg to differ. I haven’t had a shower in two days, and I intend to crank up the spray the second we reach the inn. I’d invite you to join me, but then I’d have to fire you.”

  “Feel free. For a shower with you, I’d gladly get sacked.”

  “Speaking of showers, that’s one thing I’m looking forward to about moving to New York.”

  “The showers?”

  “The water pressure in my building in San Francisco is a trickle.” She clears her throat, and her tone shifts, as if she’s about to say something serious. “When I look for places in New York, I’m going to have to test the water in every single one.”

  Finally.

  We’re finally talking about what happens next.

  Good, I need some info. I need to know how far along she is. Where her mind is at. I might be ready to go all in, but there’s a difference between putting your heart on the line and putting your heart on the line only to swerve off a bridge and sink to a watery death.