Twelve
Levi wasn’t out of shape. He did cardio and weights a few days a week, played sports when he could, and ate reasonably healthy meals. When Jillian asked if he was up for the challenge of a harder hike, he’d scoffed like the answer was obvious. He should have read into her sexy, subtle smile but he’d been seduced instead and would have, quite literally, followed her anywhere.
They stayed side by side for most of it, her chatting about Ollie and the lodge, how they’d worked their asses off the summer before to get the place up and running. He loved the sound of her voice, the way the pitch and tone changed depending on who she was talking about. About forty minutes in, he wondered how the hell she was still carrying on a conversation when he was completely winded. She took videos at different points so she could send them to the company she was giving a tour of the lodge to before lunch.
“Uh-oh,” she said, stopping in the middle of the trail. She put her hands on her hips. “Maybe this one is too much for you.”
His lungs burned even as he took the opportunity to sip water. “No one likes a smartass,” he said, unable to hide the unevenness of his breaths.
“That can’t be true. If it is then it doesn’t apply to me, because I know many, many smartasses and I like all of them,” she said, her gaze twinkling and her breathing, thank freaking God, a little heavy.
“I don’t remember you being so funny,” Levi said. He set his pack down, stretched his arms up over his head. He’d ditched his sweater a while ago and had considered hiking in his boxers just to get out of his jeans but figured he should hang on to a bit of his dignity.
Jillian’s gaze tracked his T-shirt, making his skin heat up with the blatant perusal. He lowered his arms, stepping into her despite the fact that he was sweating. So was she. That had to cancel things out, right?
She didn’t seem to mind as he stepped close enough to touch. It was hell not reaching for her, but he’d put the ball in her court. He wanted her. There was no way he could look at her and not want her. Likewise, there was no way she couldn’t know that he did. But, as his dad had pointed out, she was the one with more to lose.
Though she kept a sliver of space between them, he felt her everywhere. “I was usually too shy to talk to you.”
“Or reading a book,” he remembered, catching the scent of her shampoo and pure Jillian. His muscles tightened, ached to pull her against his body.
“I think I came into my funniness later in life.” She gave him a wide, goofy grin that made him laugh.
Fuck it. He reached out, ran his thumb along her cheek, reveled in her sharp breath. “Hmm. It looks good on you. Like everything else.”
Her smile made his heart turn over. “I don’t remember you being so smooth with the lines.”
He took her hand instead of kissing her, which is what he wanted to do. Scooping up his backpack—they’d left the cooler at the lodge—he pulled her forward at a much more leisurely pace.
“It’s not a line. Nothing I say to you is. I just tell you the truth. I try to do that in most areas in my life,” he told her.
She tugged on his hand so he turned to face her. He’d slung the pack over one shoulder, so it whirled with him when he turned.
“In which areas of your life don’t you tell the truth?”
He hated the way her eyes filled with trepidation. He hated that she’d been hurt and those scars still showed; those fears still hovered. In that moment, he understood his dad watching out for Jilly. Their parents were friends. He cared about the Keller kids. But shouldn’t he give Levi the benefit of the doubt?
Levi bent his knees a bit to bring their faces closer like he was going to tell her a secret. He trailed a hand up her arm, lowered his lips beside her ear, felt her tremor, and smiled. The ball was in her court, but he could make sure she had a reason to play.
“When my mom asked if her chicken pot pie was delicious, I lied and said yes because I didn’t know how to tell her it wasn’t supposed to have lumps in it that weren’t chicken and veggies. At the dentist, when the hygienist asks if I floss regularly, I say yes even though I don’t. In high school, I told Beckett and Gray that Jenna Meyers had a boyfriend even though I knew she didn’t because I didn’t want them to ask her out.”
He pulled back far enough to see the amusement dance over her features.
“Hmm. Did you ever ask her out?”
“Jenna?”
She gave him a deadpan look. “No. The hygienist.”
He snaked his arm around her waist, pulled her closer. “The hygienist was old enough to be my grandmother, so definite no there, and I waited too long with Jenna. She and Kyle Greggory got together about a month after I lied to your brothers.”
Jilly ran her fingers over his chest, and he liked the feeling more than he should. At least if he wanted to concentrate on her words and not how she made him feel.
“They’re still together. They moved to Chicago about three years ago,” she said quietly, tracking the movement of her fingers.
Levi lowered the pack and used both hands to frame Jillian’s face, tilting her head so she looked at him. “I heard that. I’m happy for them. Maybe people end up where they’re meant to be.”
“You think so?”
“I do. I wasn’t so sure for a while, but now? Nowhere I’d rather be.”
She stared at him so long, he wondered what she saw. Did she think she could tell the truth of his words by looking at him? Levi had learned that the best way to prove something was continuous follow-through. It was okay that she was unsure. He’d show up day after day and give her reason not to be. Same as he’d eventually do with his dad.
He thought she’d step away, impose that control that seemed to shield her like a titanium cloak, but like a switch flipping, Jillian took control and pulled him down so she could kiss him. He needed absolutely no encouragement to jump on board. He felt her sigh into the kiss and all but melt against him. One of her arms went around his waist as he tilted his head, his fingers tangling in her hair. She tasted like his homemade granola and Jillian, a sweetness he knew he could get addicted to if she gave him the chance.
“Lightning,” she whispered, pulling back.
She literally left him dazed. He stared at her through lowered lids. “What?”
“It’s not supposed to strike the same spot twice, but every kiss with you is good.”
Well damn. It was hard not to puff his chest out at that.
“I defy all of those theories.”
Jillian laughed. “Why don’t we get to the summit. The walk down will be easier. We can have lunch, I’ll show you around, and maybe later we can sit in the hot tub for a bit.”
Levi smiled. “You didn’t mention a hot tub. You know, I’ve seen a summit before. You see one, you’ve seen them all, right?”
Jillian stepped back, picked up his pack and handed it to him. “We have to reacclimate you to the great outdoors. You’ve been citified.”
He laughed at the term. “They have parks and hiking in Vermont. And skiing.”
Walking side by side, they veered to the right, Jillian pointing the way. “I lived in the city for a while, too, you know. Somehow, even when it’s right there, you forget to take advantage of it.” She glanced at him. “Or were you out in the wilderness every chance you got?”
He sent her a mock glare. “I’ll have you know, I walked to work each day and it took me right through the local park.”
Jillian bit her lip. “Right. My bad. That’s exactly the same. It’s strange that you were a bit winded earlier what with your vigorous outdoor routine in the city.”
Levi laughed and the sound carried along the breeze, the birdsong accompanying it.
When they finally reached the peak, she was right; the view was breathtaking. He could see Smile in the distance. It felt so close and so far away at the same time. Life was like that, he supposed. He’d lived in a busy city, worked in a crowded restaurant, knew dozens of people between colleagues and customers, but felt entirely alone. Now, standing on a mountaintop with only Jilly by his side, he felt surrounded. Fulfilled. Connected.
He took Jillian’s hand in his, stared out at the water and the sky, and the feeling intensified. He felt… home.