Birding with Benefits

Chapter 27

“Think very carefully before you answer, John. There’s a lot hanging in the balance.” Chris smirked at Celeste, his blond hair glinting in the sunlight, before returning his attention to the trail. Celeste laughed, hitching her pack higher on her shoulders.

“He doesn’t need to think carefully.” She turned and gave John a wink. “The answer is obvious.”

Behind her, John smiled as he met the brisk pace Chris was setting. They were all skidding down a steep incline on the gravelly trail, descending from a flat patch of desert into a lush riparian ciénega bordered by billowing willows whose branches swayed slowly in the early evening air.

Bounding down the last few feet, Celeste landed in the sandy wash bed that would lead them to the shallow, shaded creek, just dribbling with water in early May. She knelt, swinging her pack to the front to pull out her water bottle. John joined her, squatting so close that his knee brushed against hers.

The simple contact sent a jolt right through Celeste’s body, and she knew by the twitch of John’s mouth that it did the same to him. They’d been birding with benefits for just a few days, but they’d squeezed in as much alone time as they could. If she had to walk away from their arrangement when the contest ended in nine days—and she definitely did, as she’d reminded herself in the mirror just that morning—she was going to wring all the great sex out of the remaining time that she could.

Which was why she’d set her alarm that morning to arrive at John’s house before work. They’d planned to make coffee and go for a short birding walk, but had somehow ended up in his bedroom instead. He’d scandalized Celeste by positioning himself under her, urging her to ride his face before he pulled her body down to slide inside her. He’d even used some bad words.

Celeste took a long swig of water and looked up to find John’s eyes focused on her throat. Later, when they were alone, he would whisper to her about this moment—how her shorts showed off the muscles of her thighs, or how the little trickle of sweat dripping down the side of her neck made him hungry for her. He was always making these observations and tucking them away, only to feed them back to her generously as his hands showered her with attention.

“So, John, what’s your final answer?” Chris was putting away his own water, taking his next few steps down the trail that would get them to the creek. “Would I have been as good at the birding stuff as Celeste has turned out to be? If you had to really choose between us—just for the contest, of course—who would it be?”

John just shook his head and stood, brushing off his thighs. “You dropped out, Chris. So it’s really no choice at all.” He started down the trail as Chris sighed, waving a hand in the air. Even for hiking, Chris wore a Black Sabbath T-shirt with a rip down the back that let some of his ink peek out, but he was in running shorts instead of the usual skinny jeans Celeste had seen him in before.

“But if I hadn’t dropped out, I’d be as good as Celeste, right? I’m a wildlife biologist, for crying out loud, even if I do focus on mollusks.” He looked at Celeste as he blew a raspberry. “I mean, I know I introduced you to Celeste, and I continue to take total credit for that, but I didn’t know she’d be some kind of birding prodigy. Now I’m just jealous. You were supposed to end up with a partner that was fine, but not as good as me.”

Celeste caught up to Chris and gave him a pat on the back. “Sorry, dude, I’m just the best. Aren’t I, John?”

“Not answering!” he called back. Celeste and Chris giggled as they trudged through the wash until they reached the shade of the willows. The wide streambed was green with moss, the narrow belt of water trickling slowly between gray rocks. Chris had been asking to come along on one of their birding outings, and she was happy that he could join them. He had a special way of radiating good cheer, even as he complained about the trials of academia or pouted about being jealous of Celeste. And his presence kept them focused on adding to their bird count instead of getting distracted.

Not that getting distracted with John wasn’t a treat in itself. But they still had a contest to win. And their numbers were going up slowly. They’d seen almost all the easy birds, which John assured her everyone would have on their list. Now every outing was with fingers crossed that they would spot something rare—a migrating bird that had never left, a bird slightly out of range, or something more skittish around people. This evening they were hoping to spot a yellow-billed cuckoo, a threatened species that was usually seen only in tiny swaths throughout the region.

“You know”—Chris looked at her meaningfully, blue eyes bright—“the cuckoo is known for laying its eggs in the nests of other birds, but in reality most cuckoos do raise their own young.”

Celeste raised her eyebrows. “Studying up, huh? It’s almost like somebody wants to impress his bird guide. I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you were always the kid sitting in the front row, always turning in the extra credit?”

John turned back to them with a nod. “Definitely.”

“What can I say, I like to shine.” Chris jogged a few steps to catch up to John, who was keeping a steady pace on the small trail even as his eyes stayed up, scanning the trees. Chris leaned in and said something to him quietly, making John laugh.

In their times out birding, she and John had run into other birders he knew, and he was always kind and friendly. But he had a different ease with Chris, who had a clear, gentle affection for John that she didn’t often see expressed between men. On paper, the two of them would seem to be opposites—Chris was vibrant and exuberant, craving attention and affirmation, while John was quiet and contemplative, sharing words only when necessary. But together, they worked.

She supposed that, on paper, she and John weren’t a great match either. She was loud where he was quiet, an open book where he was private. And yet when they were together—on the trail, reading on his couch, or in bed—there was an easy fit, like that satisfying click when a puzzle piece snapped into the right spot.

The thought tightened her throat. Puzzle pieces stayed in one place. They didn’t grow, they didn’t change, they didn’t get to move around the puzzle to see what the other side of the table was like. She’d snapped herself into place years ago and was just now wiggling free.

So why was she so tempted to take this small bubble she and John had together and blow more life into it, to see if it might stretch beyond the parameters they’d set?

It might not feel like it now, but she’d be ready to walk away when the whole thing was over. The final awards banquet of the contest was the same night as Morgan’s art show, so the timing was perfect to draw her focus back to where it belonged. Anytime Celeste tried to push her daughter to follow through with her college paperwork—or tried to talk to her about anything at all lately—Morgan simply begged off, claiming she needed to work on her gallery pieces or darting out the door to meet Em. After the show, Celeste could help get her back on track. Plan out their summer together and prepare for Morgan to leave the nest.

She wouldn’t have time to miss John anyway.

John turned back toward her, his mouth curving in a smile as Chris talked. When she caught up to them, John leaned into her ear.

“You good?”

Celeste had been caught up in the what-ifs and what-could-bes instead of being there, in the subtle evening light under a swaying willow, looking for a bird.

She nodded as John cocked his head to one side. He closed his eyes, then grabbed Chris’s forearm. “I hear it. Up in the branches—” His body spun, until he was facing a section of trees farther down the trail. “Over there.”

Chris bounced on the balls of his feet, biting his lower lip. “I’m on it. I have so got this.” He shot Celeste a look, narrowing his eyes as his mouth kicked into a grin. “Let’s see who the super birder is now, eh?”

Celeste laughed as Chris bounded down the trail, but John’s hands on her waist made her gasp. He guided her until her back hit the trunk of a tree, and then his mouth was on hers, tongue gliding along her lower lip. She opened to him without question, grasping the back of his neck to keep him in place, urging the kiss to go deeper by releasing a moan into his mouth.

When they both came up for air, John leaned his forehead against hers, smiling. “Hey.”

Celeste hummed and ran her fingers through his beard. If anything could pull her brain and body into the present, it was kissing John. It was impossible not to be present under the force of his attention and touch.

“Hey yourself.” Celeste cleared her throat and looked in the direction Chris had gone. “Did you tell him you heard the bird to get us some privacy?”

John laughed and shook his head. “No, I actually heard it.”

Celeste pushed herself off the tree, brushing past John before turning back to him. “Seriously? Then what are we kissing for? We’ve got to go see it!”

John shrugged. “I thought we could give him a minute to try on his own. Finding that bird will really make his day.”

Celeste took a fistful of his shirt, pulling him close to her. “John Maguire. You are such a softy, you know that?”

His eyes darkened as he ran his index finger down her neck. “I’m not always soft. Especially with you.”

She slapped his chest, gasping. “Did you just make an erection joke?”

John’s lips tilted up as he gently turned her, heading them both down the trail. “You must be a bad influence.”

She looped an arm through his, leaning into his shoulder. “No, I am the best influence. I’m so proud right now. I’m gonna put it in my calendar—‘John’s first erection joke.’?” She bumped her shoulder into his. “And since we’re alone, this would be a good time to tell me I’m a better birding partner than Chris could ever be.”

John smiled as he drew his lips tight, shaking his head. “Not saying a word.”

“How about the next time you rub your beard, it means I win. That I’m better than Chris.”

“I rub my beard all the time.”

“So it’s the perfect signal. He’ll never know what you’re doing. If you’ll just throw me a bone”—she giggled after the word—“I’ll make it worth your while later. Otherwise, who knows, I might have a headache.”

John stopped, pulling Celeste to a halt with him. He reached a hand up, her body shooting to high alert anticipating where his touch might land. But he only touched her with his gaze, hot on her skin where her heartbeat was kicking up in her throat.

His laugh sent shivers across her neck. “A headache, huh?” Just as her legs turned to jelly, John stepped into her body. His mouth brushed hers lightly on the way to her ear, where his whisper was full of gravel.

“You make a better partner than he could. Your enthusiasm is tempered by just the right amount of patience and perseverance.” He backed up and rubbed his nose across hers, nipping at her mouth. “Don’t you dare say a word to him.”

And somehow, bragging to Chris was suddenly the last thing on her mind. “I promise, your secret is safe with me.”

Chris came running into view, windmilling his arms and pointing behind him. “The bird,” he wheezed. “Oh my god, I saw the fucking bird. I am such a master.”

Celeste stepped away from John, pulling out the blue notebook where she kept her list. This was a bird she had to see, and putting a little distance between her and John wouldn’t hurt either. Space to remind her that she’d be just fine in nine days.

She stuck her pencil in her mouth and jogged to Chris, giving him a strong pat on the back. “What are you waiting for, master? Show us the fucking bird.”