Chapter 7 #2
We continue walking while she asks too many personal questions for someone I’ve just met, lacking a sense of boundaries and personal space in general. Her husband eventually whisks her away, his eyes turning to me apologetically.
The edge of the cliff beckons me near, offering a teasing glimpse of more switchbacks leading farther down. Hands on my hips, I marvel at the variety of rock layers—the canyon’s shameless display of its age. I’m kind of envious that it only gets more beautiful each year.
I’m sweaty and embarrassingly out of breath as I head back to the path, trying to absorb as much of the scenery as possible. I’m wishing there was a way to bottle it up and take it with me when another breathtaking view captures my attention.
Jack.
My eyes run over the strong, broad shoulders that must be carrying the weight of the world.
He holds his cowboy hat against his leg, his other hand running through his inky black hair that’s longer on the top with a slight wave to it, and I want to run my fingers through the strands to see if I could make that stubborn curl on his forehead behave.
There’s a part of me, one I should be chastising, that’s quite thrilled to find him here. It already has me wanting to rethink the whole solo aspect of this trek. Sticking close to Jack also has the potential benefit of providing a deterrent for Chad and Brandon.
I mean, if I have to have company, Jack is the obvious choice, right?
With a new mission, I pivot and head in Jack’s direction, my breathing slightly labored.
I attempt to slow it down so I don’t sound like I’m dying.
But walking toward him is giving me the same thrill I feel when I enter my favorite clothing store, only I’ve swapped the soft caress of cashmere on my fingers with the sweet anticipation of getting under this man’s skin.
My nerves are all tingly at the thought.
That permanent scowl and eyes that warn ‘don’t approach’ are like a bright green poke-me sign flashing above his head as he replaces his hat, shadowing his rugged face.
He isn’t in uniform today, although he still has the ranger hat. With the way his sleeves hug his biceps, the man should be considered armed and dangerous to the female population.
Lord help us, my preteen self says with a smug nod, we have a type.
Looking at him feels like staring at the most gorgeous satin dress and being forbidden to touch it.
But I must poke that bear.
Yesterday I planned to avoid him. Today, my plan is the more fun of two evils. I can either continue with Chad and Brandon buzzing around, or I can stick near Jack for a little while. An hour, tops.
A smirk that I’m not even trying to hide curls my mouth as I approach.
He stands just beside the path that continues down, trying to appear casual, but there’s nothing casual about this man.
His eyes are burning holes into everything around him, but they eventually settle on me, a frown still in place.
I stop two feet away, lifting my chin to meet his eyes.
“Hi.” I smile, appreciating the cream-colored shirt hugging his muscles. It’s a color I would normally find repellent, because of my family history, but I seem to have discovered an appreciation for the hue.
He grunts out some form of a greeting, and as expected, those dark brows dip lower, ever so slightly.
“You must get a lot of tension headaches.”
“What?” He scowls in confusion.
“You know, ‘cause of all the frowning,” I say, motioning to his face. A burning curiosity rises within me, and I have to know what he looks like without that scowl. I lift my hand, intending to ease the tightness between his brows. It’s a breach of his personal space on many levels, but I figure I’m not all that threatening. Surely, he won’t be too upset.
“Wh—what are you doing?” He flinches, avoiding my touch.
“Would you stay still for just a second?” I grumble. “I won’t bite. I just wanna see something.”
“You know I’m an officer of the law, right? I could arrest you for assault.”
I roll my eyes but decide on a different approach.
He frowns at the straps of my backpack as if Marigold has personally offended him. But then he quickly shifts his focus to my face, making my heart beat a little faster.
He’s still except for the rise and fall of his broad chest with each breath.
There’s something so appealing about his chiseled, frowny face.
The dark stubble that looks a little rebellious, and the tiny white scar on the bridge of his nose that I want to graze my finger over.
Only once I’ve had my fill do I muster the courage to meet his piercing gaze.
It’s both unnerving and exhilarating being this close to a virtual stranger.
I can see the wheels are turning in his head. He’s trying to figure me out. Good luck to him, because my family has known me my whole life, and they still don’t know who I am.
I don’t even know who I am, so how would he?
I shake that thought away as I take a small step forward.
The crunching footsteps and light chatter continue as people pass by, but it all fades away, as if Jack and I are in a vacuum.
My chest rises with a deep inhale, and I’m wishing I didn’t have this stupid, giant backpack pulling me down into the earth’s core.
“If you’re American when you go into the restroom, and you’re American when you come out of the restroom, what are you while you’re in the restroom?” I finally manage to say.
He scowls, every cell in my body lighting up when he does. “Are you always this forward?”
“Just answer the question.”
“I don’t know,” he grunts.
“European.”
It’s not the full-on grin I hoped for, but his response is still intoxicating.
Every muscle in his face softens with a fleeting smile, one he instantly tries to hide by stepping back and looking away from me. But it still hits me like a kick to the stomach. My breath catches at the sight of that restrained grin, the force of it etching something into my soul.
His bottom lip juts out in a pout, his cheeks sucking in as he works to conceal the crack in his armor. I witnessed it, though. For one glorious second, he thought about laughing. His joy wanted to break free.
Hands on his hips, he clears his throat before that freaking frown arrests his face once again, and only then does he give me his eyes.
“Are you done?” he demands.
“Yup. I got the information I needed.”
“And what was that?” he asks, his voice gravelly.
“The female population is much safer with you scowling at us, although those are pretty dangerous too.”
His eyes narrow in confusion.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s probably better for everyone that you don’t know the power you wield.”
He steps forward, aiming that glower at the straps of my backpack. He lifts his hands before he seemingly thinks better of it, keeping them frozen in the air as if he can’t decide whether to give in to an impulse.
“Your, um…” He huffs, appearing frustrated at himself and me. “You’ll kill your back with how you’re wearing that thing. There shouldn’t be any gaps between the bag and your back. The weight should sit on your hips, not your shoulders. Every strap needs tightening.”
My eyes fall to the straps, then ping back to his face. “You can tighten them. It looks like you really want to.”
He clears his throat uncomfortably. “I’d rather not.”
We stare at one another, silent, the breeze warm and sticky. He shifts on his feet, breaking eye contact and trying to hide his sudden discomfort. I reach up and tighten the straps of Marigold, instantly relieving my tortured shoulders.
Why the heck did no one tell me about this trick? It could have saved me the weeks of chiropractic care and retail therapy I’ll undoubtedly need to recover.
“Are you okay?” I adjust another strap, sharpening my gaze at the twitch in his fingers.
“Your friends are leaving.” He gestures behind me with a lift of his chin, ignoring my question.
I look over my shoulder to see Chad and Brandon making their way toward the path. My eyes return to Jack with a roll. “I’ve known you longer than I’ve known Chad. And I only just met Brandon.”
Jack studies me carefully. He doesn’t believe me.
“You’re camping overnight?” he questions, hands back on his hips. His eyes track Chad and Brandon as they continue along the trail.
“I am.”
“You sure you wanna go through with this?”
“What? Why?” I frown, feeling like his grumpy juju is rubbing off on me.
“This just doesn’t look like your…thing,” he enunciates as his eyes track me from head to toe.
“It’s anybody’s thing.” I fire back when he hits a nerve. A flicker of confusion sweeps across his face, and he looks like he wants to say something, but I don’t give him the chance.
“Thank you for indulging me, Jackson.”
“Jack,” he corrects.
“Maybe I’ll see you along the trail, Jaclyn.” I salute, turning to resume the coral colored trail that nobody thinks I can survive.