Hope felt herself blush at the reminder of his tying her to a chair the night before. She’d never mentioned her job with The Weekly News of the Universe. He’d reacted somewhat negatively when she mentioned she’d queried People magazine about her article. She didn’t know if he’d cop a patronizing attitude, but she wasn’t sure. It was better for now that he thought she wrote for a Northwest magazine.
Mostly, they watched movies, or just held hands and didn’t do anything. She liked that best of all. Just sitting still, being quiet, knowing he was there.
Shelly thought things were getting serious between the two of them. Hope knew better. Whenever he came to her house, he parked behind the Aberdeens‘. Sometimes he came across the lake in his boat. When they were at his house, he parked his truck in his barn. His reasons all sounded perfectly logical. If people knew he was home, they’d stop by. They’d want to chat and gossip and bring him food, and he wouldn’t have as much time to spend with her. Yeah, it sounded reasonable, but it didn’t feel like the whole truth. It felt like there was something he wasn’t saying, and Hope wondered again if he was embarrassed to be seen with her. She knew he didn’t like to be the subject of gossip, but she wondered if he would mind so much if the gossip weren’t about his relationship with her.
She looked at him now, at his Stetson resting on his head, fingers tapping the steering wheel to the beat of hard rock, and she wondered exactly how he did feel about her. She knew what she felt for him, and it frightened her. It sneaked inside her chest and gave her heart panicky palpitations. She wasn’t in love with him, not yet, but it could happen if she weren’t careful. And she planned to be very careful.
Dylan slowed and turned onto a dusty, bumpy road. They quickly rolled up the windows, and Dylan ejected the tape from the player. The rolling meadows gave way to a lodgepole forest and within three miles the road ended at the Iron Creek trailhead. Before they’d left that morning, he’d insisted that she borrow Shelly’s hiking boots and down parka. The boots on her feet were made of waterproof mesh and Gore-Tex and were lighter than she would have expected. The puffy coat had been rolled like a sausage and stuffed in her backpack. Presently it was ninety-four degrees beneath a cloudless sky, and Hope wore a pair of camouflage shorts and a green tank top. She’d applied a few swipes of waterproof mascara, and Dylan had given her a tube of SPF 15 Chapstick, which she had in her pocket. She felt a little naked without blusher and lip liner, but Dylan told her he liked the way she looked. She didn’t believe him for a second, but he’d certainly seen her in the morning when she looked her worse.
The truck rolled to a stop in a parking area sectioned out of the forest by logs. There was one Jeep and a pickup and camper parked on the far side. Earlier, Dylan had mentioned that the area wouldn’t be busy because it was the middle of the week. He’d been right.
Dylan was dressed in his usual Levi’s, blue T-shirt, and hat. There were two notable differences: He’d traded in his cowboy boots for hiking boots much like Hope’s, and he’d strapped a pistol to his hip.
“What are you going to do with that?”
“Keeps the bugs away,” he said, then took off his sunglasses and sprayed himself down with insect repellent.
There had been a time not too long ago when she would have thought he meant to shoot flies, and he would have had a good laugh at her expense. Now she thought she knew him better than that. “No. The gun.”
“Cover your face,” he said and sprayed her, too. “I told you I’d protect you from bears, didn’t I?”
“Oh, my God,” she said from behind her hands. “You didn’t tell me you were going to shoot bears.”
“You didn’t ask.”
She dropped her hands as he sprayed her stomach and the front of her legs. “Okay, isn’t this the part where you tell me bears taste just like chicken?”
“Bear doesn’t taste anything like chicken.” He walked behind her and sprayed. “It’s tough as a boot and real gamey.”
She didn’t want to know how he’d come by that information. “Do you think we’ll see bears?”
“Not likely.” He stuck the can of “bug juice” into his backpack. “Chances are they’ll smell us and run away long before we see them. Black bears usually aren’t aggressive, but if we see one, we’ll just make some noise, and I’ll shoot my gun in the air to scare it off. Mostly they just want to know where you are so they can head in the opposite direction.” He grabbed the backpack that belonged to Adam out of the bed of his truck and helped her into it. Unlike the cute little Ralph Lauren backpack she’d bought at Saks last summer, this one had a metal frame and two sturdy mesh harnesses that belted across the hips and chest. Dylan widened the straps for her, then stepped back to eye the fit. Her breasts were squished together at the top, and he widened the straps a bit more. His hands lingered at the task longer than was necessary. His knuckles brushed across her tank top, and then he gave up all pretense of strap adjusting and cupped her left breast. When she looked up, he turned her face to the side and settled into a slow, soft kiss. His hand moved to her stomach, then slid around her side. “I want to show you the most beautiful place I’ve ever been,” he whispered lightly against her mouth. His tender kisses left her wanting more, but when her tongue chased his, he pulled back. “I think you’ll like it.”
Which meant, she supposed, that it wasn’t a great time to confess to him that she really wasn’t into Mother Nature.
Dylan shrugged on his own pack, a bigger version of Adam’s. Still, she wondered how he’d managed to get a two-man tent in there.
He reached for her hand. The first hour of the trip was easy. Th
ey walked the Iron Creek trail through thick lodgepole pines, and he stopped to show her flowers she might be interested in photographing for her fictional magazine article. Growing near the crystal-clear water of Iron Creek were Mountain Bluebell, Heather, and Alpine Laurel. He picked a wild daisy and stuck it behind her ear, and he seemed to be having such a good time helping her, she just didn’t have the heart to tell him there wouldn’t be any wildlife article. She snapped a few photos of the flowers, and she took a few of him, too.
The second and third hours weren’t quite as easy as the first. The forest grew thicker and the trail became a series of narrow switchbacks worn into the side the mountain. Dense vegetation carpeted the ground and all but swallowed fallen trees and rocks. Squirrels chattered as they raced across the ground and disappeared into the foliage. Birds called to one another in the trees above Hope’s head. Their songs carried on the pine-scented breeze.
Hope’s calves ached, and she thought she might be getting a blister on her heel. She had to keep her weight pitched forward as she climbed, afraid she’d tumble backward if she didn’t.
Dylan told her the names of different mountain peaks and about the time he’d hunted bighorn sheep in the White Clouds. She broke a fingernail, and he dug out his nail clippers so she could fix it with the little file.
“You’re such a girl.” He laughed and made her walk in front of him when the trail narrowed. She missed watching the backs of his legs and his behind, and during lulls in conversation, she again wondered how he felt about her. She tried to picture her life with him and couldn’t, but she couldn’t picture her life without him, either. They’d made no promises to each other. Never spoke of tomorrow, and she wondered how their relationship would change once Adam returned from visiting his mother. Dylan’s son was due to return home that Sunday, and Hope was certain that would change everything. What she wasn’t so certain about was how things would change.
Dylan helped her balance on rocks and fallen logs as they crossed a stream. They rested on a huge boulder so Hope could catch her breath, and they took off the packs and leaned them against the rock. While she ate peanuts and drank from her canteen, Dylan took his hat off and poured water over his head. It ran down his neck and soaked his shirt, and he shook like a dog, sending clear droplets everywhere. And then he finally mentioned Adam. Hope sat very still, waiting to hear his plans. Whatever they were, she would be okay, she told herself.
“He seems to like you,” Dylan told her as he sat next to her and polished a red apple on his sleeve. A breeze ruffled his damp hair and dried the ends a golden brown. “But after he’s home, I can’t spend the night with you anymore.” Dylan took a bite of the apple, then held it out for her to take a bite. “When my son’s older, I don’t think I can tell him he can’t bring girlfriends home for the night if I have. I start back to work next week, too. I want to make time to be with you, but it won’t be easy.” He took another bite of the apple. “And I don’t just mean time to have a quickie somewhere.”
She let out a breath she hadn’t even known she’d been holding. “Well, we can plan fun things that include Adam,” she said and meant it. “He’s a funny little kid, and I wouldn’t mind hanging out with him.” She looked up into his eyes, the same dark green as the pine trees behind him. “And you do have a lunch hour, don’t you?”
“Yes,” he said through a smile as he tossed the core. “At least an hour.”
She ran her hands up his wet T-shirt and locked her fingers behind his neck. She leaned into him and her breasts brushed his cool, wet chest. “And what if I had to come to your office and swear out some sort of complaint? Would I get past your secretary?”