Chapter 5
Natalie Nolan
The Last Stop.
I squinted up at the sign that’d seen better days. The pastel colors were pastel no more, and moss was growing at the top.
The place promised the best ice cream in all of Washington. Impressive.
Expensive gas, though.
I climbed out of my car and looked around some more. We were surrounded by forest here, and I spotted several signs pointing to various hiking trails.
We were allowed to park here for four hours, so I could imagine it got crowded on the weekends.
Aside from the gas station and café, they had picnic tables and tourist information available.
I was ready to hike my butt off. The sun was shining, to boot!
I’d bought a new hoodie that didn’t fit too tight, and my boots were comfortable. So were my leggings, but that went without saying.
Should I have brought something else? I had my water bottle…
Surely we wouldn’t be gone for long. I had an hour with him, and that was supposed to include the time it took to get to and from wherever we were. Which would be tricky today, because it’d taken me twenty-five minutes to drive here.
It was damn beautiful, though. I could already feel my move from New York to Washington had inspired me in my work. I had the beginnings of a forest collection tumbling around in my head. I was thinking delicate silver leaves and mountain silhouettes.
A big truck rolled into the parking lot, the gravel crunching underneath its tires, and I spotted Ethan behind the wheel.
Ethan Quinn, RAM truck. It beat the red Porsche, but it still made me smirk.
I couldn’t lie. I was having fun trying to figure him out.
As he parked next to my Jeep, I pulled my hair back in a high ponytail. I’d finally cut a bit of it off, and Chloe’s girl was amazing. Kate was now my girl too. She’d added some highlights. Fall was almost here, and my hair was giving it a chestnut greeting.
“Morning, Coach,” I said as he left his truck.
“Good morning, Natalie.” He smiled and grabbed a day pack.
Hot damn, he was wearing a flannel shirt under his windbreaker. That was all kinds of hot. My kind of lumberjack porn, so to speak.
He removed the jacket before he shouldered his backpack. “You ready to work up a sweat?”
“Yes, sir, but now I’m a little worried I didn’t bring enough stuff. I only have my water.”
“I don’t think you need anythin’ else.” He folded up the sleeves of his shirt. Solid forearm porn. “But in case you sprain an ankle or you get dizzy, I’ve got you covered.”
Wasn’t that sweet?
“What’s the cure for dizziness?” I teased.
He chuckled. “Orange juice and chocolate.”
I planted a hand against my windshield and pretended to be near fainting. “Oh, dear…”
That made him laugh.
He had a sexy laugh.
I beamed, suddenly in a great mood. “Okay, lead the way.”
“Yes, ma’am. We’re goin’ this way.” He nodded at the closest trail, its sign indicating it was five miles long. “We’ll walk for twenty minutes, and then we’ll head back.”
Oof, okay. So, forty minutes. I was going to need a shower when I got home.
The first few minutes were spent in comfortable silence, which was a shame. Because for as much as I didn’t mind soaking up the nature around me, I’d soon be too out of breath to speak. And he tended to have questions sooner rather than later.
The trail actually did have a handrail, though that disappeared five minutes in. After that, we had blue spots to go by. They were painted on the trees.
The trail was narrow, so he walked behind me.
Was that on purpose? Was he thinking that the pace I’d set was too slow?
“So, how do you think your first week has gone?” he asked.
My breathing was already picking up, dammit. “Um, good. Yeah. I’ve made progress, which is what I’m focusing on.” I threw him a cheeky smile over my shoulder, and he smiled back.
“That’s the spirit.”
But I had to be honest—as always. “It’s a little weird not to have weigh-ins, though,” I said. “In the past when I’ve tried to get into shape, Friday’s been the day I check my results.”
He hummed. “We can do that if you want, but I generally don’t recommend it for clients who’re trying to lose weight.”
As he’d told me. “Because we get stuck on digits,” I stated.
“Exactly. And especially you—your mood can tank easily at the slightest misstep.”
He had a big ol’ point.
“The results will show soon,” he promised. “You’ll notice it when you put on a shirt that’s suddenly too big. You’ll feel it when you exercise. You’ll notice your energy levels spiking.”
Big, big, big ol’ point.
I couldn’t wait.
One day, I was going to put on my black leather jacket—and those jeans—and they’d fit.
But that day wasn’t today. My heart started pounding way too fast for my liking, and Ethan picked that moment to ask how I was enjoying the Pacific Northwest so far.
“Big change from New York, huh?”
“Yeah.” I swallowed dryly and uncapped my water bottle. “Yeah, I like it.” I chugged quickly and tried not to slow down. “I love being out like this. Fewer cars honking and zero stone-faced New Yorkers.” Also, sadly, no Chinese food delivery in the middle of the night.
“Fewer people, in general,” Ethan chuckled. “I’m guessing it’s easier to make friends and get into the dating scene in a major city.”
True enough, but I was here for my family.
“I haven’t downloaded the dating apps yet. I dread the day.” I puffed out a heavy breath and pushed up the sleeves of my hoodie. “What’s it like dating in Camassia Cove?”
“Fuckin’ terrible,” he muttered. “Half the women are divorced and have a few kids already.”
Yeah, sure. I could see that. We’d reached that age. I preferred men a little older than me, and it was the same story. Most were divorced and had already done the kid thing.
“And what are the other half?” I asked, out of breath.
“Canadian.”
I cracked up and had to stop. God! He couldn’t make me laugh when I was struggling to regulate my breathing, dammit! But that was too funny. I guessed we were close enough to the border for that to be an issue, yes. Hell, Vancouver was closer than Seattle.
Ethan peered down at me, amusement flashing in his eyes. “Time for a break, I take it?”
“That’s your fault,” I laughed breathlessly.
I planted a hand on my chest. “I need to calm down. Fuck.” My heart was threatening to escape my chest at this point, and my lower back hurt like a bitch.
It was the same sharp stabs every time. “Okay, so that’s what I have to look forward to.
Canadians and divorced men with custody arrangements. I think I’ll pass for a while longer.”
Ethan tilted his head. “You’re not into women?”
What? Even though I was literally the only person nearby, I had to ask. “Who, me?”
He furrowed his brow and nodded once. “Yeah, I thought… Never mind.”
No, no, I wanted to hear this. “You thought what?” I pressed. “Do I have, like, a lesbian vibe or somethin’?”
I wasn’t offended or anything, just curious and more than a little baffled. Other than the one time a woman had hit on me—legit, I’d lived on that flattery for a good six months—I’d never been mistaken for a lesbian before.
Ethan squinted and rubbed the back of his neck. “No matter how I phrase this, I’ll sound like an idiot, so I’d rather keep my mouth shut.”
Now I was even more intrigued. How bad could it be?
“Don’t worry, I won’t make a Facebook post about my PT clocking clients as lesbians,” I joked.
He exhaled a huff and smirked ruefully. “Fine. Honestly? I’m used to female clients hitting on me, and when you didn’t, I…”
“Assumed I was a lesbian,” I said slowly. Was he for fucking real? I didn’t know whether to laugh or… Actually, I definitely wanted to laugh. This was the first glimpse of Ethan as the man Gray had described. Arrogant and whatnot. “I’m seeing you in a whole new light, Coach.”
He shot me a little look at that. “I understand I come off as a douchebag, but it’s the truth. Eight times out of ten, I have women gawking at me in the gym.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
What the actual fuck?
“I didn’t know what to say, so I just laughed it off and continued walking,” I admitted. “I’m still blown away.”
Thank fuck for girls’ night at Chloe’s house the following day. I’d needed to vent, and my sister, Adeline, and Isla were good listeners.
“Uh, yeah. I’m kinda speechless too,” Isla chuckled. “Wow.”
Adeline hopped up to sit on the kitchen island, and she refilled her wine. “Makes total sense. If you don’t fawn over him, you must be gay. My God. Some men, I swear.”
Chloe had gotten her initial shock out of the way—not to mention a laugh or two—and now she had her thinking cap on while she prepared our snack board.
“What do you think, sis?” I had to ask. “Because on the one hand, I don’t want to be the hypocrite who laughs at him for something I think most women are painfully familiar with—being gawked at and bothered at the gym.
But on the other hand…how often do you get hit on in order for you to legit believe someone is a lesbian if they don’t flirt with you?
Not even if every single resident in this town flirted with me would I assume a guy is gay if he doesn’t make a move. ”
Isla laughed. “Seriously.”
Chloe pursed her lips and placed a small bowl of olives next to the marinated artichokes.
“See, my mind went there too—about the hypocrisy. Like, we don’t know what he’s been through and so on.
But…” She shook her head. “Everything I know about Ethan Quinn… He loves the attention. I’m sure there are men who take their shirts off simply because they’re hot, but he’s not one of them.
He does it for likes, for attention, and for compliments. ”
That was what I feared, and it was such an unsexy attribute. It was unfathomable too. Ethan Quinn was handsome, successful, clearly driven, and he had several wonderful traits. He was kind, funny, thoughtful, knowledgeable, and helpful. Why on earth was he chasing validation?