Birding with Benefits

Chapter 28

Surrounded by the gnarled alligator junipers and soaring white-barked sycamores of the Santa Rita Mountains, John tipped his face toward the sun. When he was a kid, his family had treated these mountains as their personal playground, and being here now with Celeste infused the familiar place with a renewed sense of discovery.

The Santa Ritas, just within the range of the contest, included one of the most diverse birding regions in the world. With Morgan at her dad’s house, Celeste and John had taken to the mountains in a mad dash for more birds and a night under the stars.

They’d been exploring the casual—and temporary—parameters of their relationship for the past two weeks, but despite their insistence on the label, things didn’t feel casual. The demands of Celeste’s life meant John still had plenty of the alone time he craved, yet her toothbrush no longer made its way back into her overnight bag. The night before they’d simply curled up and slept together, fully clothed, after an exhausting day. Texts that started out either as birding plans or midday sexts turned into daily check-ins and quick chats. Celeste had become much more than a bird-watching partner and casual sex buddy—she was his friend.

He didn’t know what would happen a week from now. Would they cut off contact altogether? Simply stop with the sex? Would they naturally separate without the bird-watching contest holding them together?

More questions than answers rattled around his head, but voicing them now would spoil their weekend, and he wouldn’t squander two days in one of his favorite places on earth. Not when Celeste bounced eagerly on her heels, ready to head out on the trail. And not when he’d have her with him in the tent all night—touching her body in the darkness, testing her limits of keeping quiet with only nylon between them and other campers.

“Obviously my goal today is the trogon.” Celeste spoke through the pencil nub held between her teeth, her eyes darting across the pages in her worn notebook. “But I also really want to see the painted redstart, the Montezuma quail, the hairy woodpecker…”

A familiar voice caught his attention from behind.

“John Maguire, I should have known I’d see you here.”

John didn’t have to turn to know the voice belonged to Daniel Winters, one of the most sought-after pro guides in the region. Dan and John had birded together years before, but whereas John had pursued stable office work, Dan had thrown himself full-on into the world of birding. He funded his travels around the world through his nature photography, showing up at conferences and expos as he built a reputation for being both gregarious and brilliant. He’d coauthored one of the authoritative texts on birding in the Southwest. The last John had heard, Dan was working on updates for the next edition.

Breena had always compared John to the Dans of the world—accomplished, acknowledged, showered with honors and respect. While Dan had redefined bird guiding in their region, John had been fiddling with pieces of wood and spreadsheet formulas.

John mustered a smile and waved at the man, who was laden with binoculars, a camera around his neck, and a thousand-dollar scope in one hand. “Dan, nice to see you.”

“Always great to see you, John.” Dan’s eyes moved to Celeste, who’d looked up from her notebook. “Ah, this must be your new partner. I heard all about her from Linda the other day. Dan Winter.”

Celeste tucked her pencil behind one ear to shake Dan’s hand. “Are you birding in the contest, too?”

He shook his head and laughed. “Oh no, I haven’t participated in that for years. Can’t seem to find the time.”

“Dan is a guide,” John clarified for her. “He’s usually booked months in advance.”

“I’m actually scheduling over a year out now.” Dan beamed. “And trying to finish up edits on the next book and keep up enough of a speaking schedule to stay relevant, you know? But I do miss those days.” He lifted his cap and ran a hand through his short-cropped gray hair. “Say, John, you’d talked about doing some guiding yourself, isn’t that right?”

“Well, eventually.” John shrugged. “I haven’t really—”

“After the contest ends,” Celeste interrupted. “When we win, that will be his jumping-off point.”

“Oh, very strategic, I like it.” Dan nodded, focused on Celeste. “Use that burst of attention to get going. The magazine feature for the winner could really plug the business.”

“Exactly!” Celeste pointed at Dan, smiling. “He needs a website, and he’s still rusty at social media, but I think we’ll get there. John’s ready to make a splash on the local scene.”

This was the Celeste from the park the other week, going on about Instagram as John failed to keep up. He gripped the back of his neck, squeezing tense muscles as Celeste and Dan ping-ponged opinions about his future between them. She talked like his business was a foregone conclusion, with her as conductor of all the things he needed to do.

“The ideas he has are out of this world.” Celeste huddled with Dan. “I think this backyard birding thing is really going to take off. I will never look at my yard in the same way again.”

“Linda and I have been talking for years about how John could be doing more, really making his mark on the field. I’m excited he’s finally moving on it.”

“You are so right about how much more he could be doing. If he just puts his mind to it, after the contest there’s going to be no stopping him.”

John’s free hand curled the thick pages of his guidebook into a spiral.

“Linda went on and on about you, Celeste,” Dan continued. “And now I see why. I think you’re just what John needs.”

Celeste’s laugh was breezy. “Well, I don’t know about that. But I do have some ideas about how he can—”

John’s ears went fuzzy as an American redstart preened on a branch above them. He should alert Celeste, let her make an ID and scribble it in her poetic mess of a notebook, but she was deep in conversation with Dan.

Since coming together with Celeste in that closet, he’d felt at home in his skin, spending his time just as he wanted—birding, woodworking, and treasuring Celeste’s sweet, responsive body with his hands and mouth. Meanwhile, she’d been laying plans for him. For all the ways he could be different.

He needed space and air. The simplicity of looking for birds.

John grabbed his pack and threw it over one arm. “I’m going to head out,” he said loudly, motioning to the trailhead that weaved through oaks and junipers from the campsite. “I’ll wait for you where the trail meets the streambed.”

Celeste’s face crinkled as she looked to Dan, then to John again. “Oh. I’ll—okay. I need to gather my stuff, but I’ll catch up.”

“Fine.” He was already halfway to the trailhead, nodding a goodbye as he passed Dan. “Nice to see you, Dan. Best of luck.”

“Right, same to you.” John didn’t miss the questioning glance Dan sent to Celeste, but he looked away before he could see her response. He’d taken about as much of their conspiring as he could.

Instead, he focused on the crunch of twigs beneath his boots, the squawking cries of scrub jays in the treetops, and the trail before him, promising solitude.

He enjoyed about two minutes of quiet before Celeste crashed down the path behind him. “Wait up,” she called, gasping. “Jesus, John.”

He closed his eyes for a breath, coming to a stop and reaching for his binoculars. “We could stop and look around here.”

“Hold up.” Celeste pushed his binoculars back down, inserting herself between him and the spot he’d been studying on the ground. “What’s going on? Why’d you storm off and leave me there?”

He tried to step around her. “I didn’t leave you.” Celeste wouldn’t budge. “I was just down the trail. And I didn’t storm.”

“I work with teenagers,” she huffed. “I know storming when I see it.”

“You didn’t have to chase after me,” John scoffed. “You and Dan seemed to be having a productive conversation.”

Her eyes narrowed, face going tight. “Wait, you’re mad about what, exactly? Two friends of yours talking about how brilliant and awesome you are?”

“Not how brilliant and awesome I am,” he spat back, loathing the whiny tinge in his voice even as he couldn’t stop it. He’d never responded like this to Breena, actually telling her how her meddling made him feel. The release was new, but not unwelcome. “How awesome I could be, if I just followed your plans. If I spent all my time trying to trend on Instagram, maybe I could be a big deal like Dan.”

“I never said you needed to be like Dan. I just believe in what you can do and I want—”

“And you want me to do it your way.”

She groaned, tugging at her ponytail. “That is not what I said, John. But is dreaming a little bigger really so bad? Sometimes you have to take risks to get the life you want. You have to be brave.”

She’d probably been planning this you can do it speech for weeks. “Not everybody is like you, Celeste. Taking on the world, running like you’re always in a marathon. And I know your ideas and energy come from a place of caring, but sometimes it can be—”

The words stuck in his throat, but she finished the sentence.

“Too much.” She swallowed and blinked and—shit—wetness gathered on her lower lids. But the next moment she coughed a harsh laugh and shook her head. “Right.”

He’d been angry and hurt, but he’d give anything to swallow those words back down. The bulk of his resentment deflated at the sight of her quivering jaw. “I didn’t mean it to come out like that.”

She sniffed and nodded, adjusting her pack. “No worries. Nothing I haven’t heard before, right?”

“Celeste—”

“Let’s just stick to why we’re here, okay? We have lots of birds to see. Gotta win that contest so you can think for another few years about starting your business.”

And then she was off, her capable legs taking her swiftly ahead of him, leaving behind his dreams of how their day would go, and a reminder that tonight they had only one tent to share.