Chapter 6
Silvercreek is known for a couple of things: hiking, fishing, and the hot springs. Over the years, my grandparents dragged me there a couple of times, and I went with Jo once after I lost a bet. I just prefer hot water with an ‘off’ button.
The springs are packed all winter with reservations required before your visit.
This time of year, though, when the summer tourists have left and the winter ones have yet to descend, you can easily go for a soak and not see another human being.
There are several natural pools linked by a network of flagstone paths.
The pools range in temperature from tolerable to boiling-devil’s-water.
It’s visually stunning but so are a hundred other things in this town that have less chance of boiling you alive.
After work, I stop by the house to change into my swimsuit and grab a towel.
I triple check my bikini line. The last person to see me in a bikini was John.
After we broke up, I felt repulsive—hated my reflection.
Ashley and I were very different physical specimens.
She was small and dainty, while I was fuller figured and almost as tall as John.
When he picked her over me, I felt like something was wrong with me, and I really focused on our physical differences.
I was too much for him. He wanted a fairy princess instead of an ogre.
I’d never felt terrible about my body before.
Thankfully, Nola had instilled confidence in me from a young age.
But all that went out the window the moment my fiancé left me for a tiny woman.
After a couple months of misery, I found that if I stood in front of the mirror and picked three things I liked about myself, it made a huge impact.
My confidence peeked its head out from under the cave it had been hiding in.
I haven’t had to do my mirror routine for a while but today, standing here semi-nude, I feel that old familiar twinge.
I take in my reflection. My hair has always been my favorite thing about me mainly because I don’t have to do anything other than brush it occasionally for it to look presentable.
I keep it long, and it flows down my back in healthy auburn waves.
My eyes are light brown. My nose is straight and my mouth falls on the fuller side.
I have a spray of freckles across my cheeks that are especially present in the summer months and keep me looking like I’m forever twelve.
I tell myself the first three things that pop into my mind.
You have impressively full breasts, Paige. Your skin looks soft and smooth.
That bruise on your butt adds character.
While I’m a far cry from strutting down Fashion Week catwalks in my birthday suit, I feel marginally more prepared to be around strangers in my swimsuit. That is the power of mirror affirmations.
As I walk out the door, I remember at the last minute to grab Shayne’s coat. His evergreen scent is still fresh on the collar, and it’s like a lightning bolt to my libido. On the drive to the hot springs, I blast Beyonce’s Renaissance to further hype myself up.
Tonight, I might make out with a beautiful man. Tonight, I might lose myself climbing the redwood body of a beautiful man. When I pull into the parking lot, I’m screaming “cuff it, cuff it,” and pounding the steering wheel like a hormonally charged pit bull.
Thankfully, I’m ten minutes early, so I have time to sort myself back into respectability.
At six thirty on the dot, a black truck rolls into the parking lot and parks several spaces down from me. Shayne gets out, looking improbably delicious in dark sweats and an old baseball shirt.
I can’t help but notice that the way he’s carrying his small duffle bag really emphasizes the muscularity of his forearms. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed another person’s forearms before.
Being around John was like being nestled in front of a warm fire; cozy and reassuring.
Being around Shayne is like riding a rocket, and I have no clue how to handle this level of intensity.
I take a few more steadying breaths, and then swing my car door open.
I’m ready for anything but prepared for the worst.
“Shayne!” I call after him. He turns at the sound of his name, his lips curving into a small smile.
“Hello, Banshee.” He stops and waits for me to catch up. His eyes are the deepest, darkest blue I’ve ever seen. I could lose myself in those eyes.
“Thanks for meeting me,” I say, looking away before I do something regrettable like lick his face.
We walk up to the ticket kiosk, and to my surprise, Shayne pays for both of our entrance fees. That’ll be one point for not-platonic!
Shayne points at the locker rooms behind the kiosk, silently asking if I need to use them. I shake my head ‘no,’ and we continue on to the path that leads to the soaking pools.
We arrive at the tolerably heated pool first. A couple groups of people are bobbing around blissfully. Shayne doesn’t stop but continues on the path towards the second pool. I’m about to follow him, but my sandal gets snagged on the footpath, and I have to bend down to readjust it.
When I stand back up, I feel like I’ve been sucker punched.
Shayne is waiting for me further up the path, his tall form silhouetted against a jaw-dropping sky.
Deep blue bleeding into a bright gradient of oranges and pinks.
It’s a toss-up which is more perfect, the man or the sunset, but I’m leaning more towards the man.
The planes of his face are lit by soft golden light, highlighting the sharpness of his cheekbones and jawline.
His wavy dark hair blows gently in the wind, as if begging my fingers to comb through it.
If the universe had a publicist, this is the image they would use to advertise earth.
This is the image I want on all my devices, every screen I own.
For now, I’ll have to settle for it being burned into my retinas.
“You good?” he asks.
“Yeah, of course. The sky is…really pretty right now,” I say, lamely waving my hand upward. It’s painfully obvious I wasn’t just checking out the sky.
“So, where are you from?” I ask once I’ve reached his side again. We continue up the path towards the second pool.
“All over. I grew up outside of Boise, but I’ve been moving around since I turned eighteen.”
“Wow, that’s funny,” I say and Shayne looks at me questioningly. I continue, “It’s just the exact opposite of me. I moved around constantly when I was little and hated it so now I feel very much glued to this spot. What keeps you roaming?”
He considers this for a moment. “I don’t need much. I have my truck, my horse. I go where the work takes me.”
“I just need my truck and my horse,” I say. “Tell me what it’s like to be a living, breathing John Wayne quote,” This earns a laugh from Shayne and the sound of it is like velvet against my skin.
“There’s too much to see in this world to stay still for very long.”
“He’s hoooome, hooome on the range,” I singsong at him, earning yet another velvety laugh.
“Okay, okay, I deserve that,” he says, lightly elbowing me. My insides squeal in delight at the contact.
We arrive at the second pool and find it empty.
An array of rocks and boulders border the naturally formed pool, and a slatted wooden deck provides an accessible surface for a lounge area.
It’s lovely—minus the sign tacked up on one of the boulders that says, “Swim at your own risk, water may be boiling.”
I toss my towel on one of the lounge chairs and sit down to take off my clothes. I kick off my slides, unzip my hoodie and rip off my sweats in record time. I hate lava water. I hate lava water. This becomes my mantra as I ease myself into the pool.
It’s hot. Not ungodly hot, but hot enough for me to consider if this was worth it. Honestly, I prefer the freezing river over this. A chef should be standing by with a bowl of seasoning salts, baster at the ready.
“Too hot?” Shayne asks, his voice a warm chuckle I would much rather float in.
“No, it’s great!” I reply, giving him a half-hearted thumbs up.
He laughs again and pulls his shirt up. I have to fake a cough to cover up my gasp.
There isn’t a muscle on his body that isn’t well-defined.
I want to touch every single inch, first with my hands, then with my mouth, then with my…
.Yes, the lava water is worth it. I’m about to boil myself alive with a Greek god.
He tosses his shirt and sweats on the lounger and joins me in the pool.
At the moment, we’re alone and the vibe is intimate.
He leans back against the edge of the pool and closes his eyes.
I situate myself across from him and follow his lead.
The water, while still several degrees hotter than I’d like, is actually starting to relax me.
The tension I’ve been carrying for days eases from my neck and shoulders.
Settling back against the rock wall, I close my eyes and let my thoughts wander.
Unsurprisingly, they turn immediately to the man simmering across from me.
Imaginary Shayne slowly swims over to me, his skin glistening from the heat.
His eyes are heavy lidded with desire. There’s no question—he wants me.
My breath quickens, and I bite my lower lip in anticipation.
I want to lap up every single drop of water that runs down his chest. I squeeze my thighs together tightly, a poor attempt at staunching the ache between them.
He reaches for me, grabbing my hand to put it on…
.a jet of bubbles escapes from somewhere to the left of me and blasts into my hip, startling a yelp from my lips.
“All good?” Shayne asks, cracking an eyelid.
“Stupid bubbles caught me off guard. I’m fine.”
“You can’t take a banshee anywhere.”