8. Chapter 8
Chapter eight
Saturday morning: Jonathan
J onathan stood up from the table he and his friends shared at The Rooftop Tavern, zeroing his sights on the luscious brunette sitting a few tables away. His strides slowly ate up the distance between them, somehow feeling heavy, like he was slogging through dense mud. Finally reaching the table, he sank into the chair beside her. She winked, dragging her teeth across her plump bottom lip. Full breasts strained against the thin, almost revealingly wispy fabric of the mystery woman’s shirt. Doesn’t she know she’s in public? That anyone who looked would be able to spy her firm nipples through the threadbare weave? Jonathan glanced around. No one watched; in fact, a blurry fog had crept in through the cracks of the wall and washed out the customer-encircled tables, leaving the two in relative privacy.
So many things he wanted to ask her, but the words wouldn’t form. They remained lodged in his throat as she ran her fingertip lightly over his shoulder, up his neck, and traced the shell of his ear. The sizzle of contact navigated the complex highway of his senses, changing lanes and skipping from one nerve ending to another, all closing in on where he strained against his jeans.
Overcome, Jonathan slid his hands quickly up her thighs and gripped her hips firmly. Before he could reason with himself, he’d already pulled her into his lap, rejoicing at the weight of her settling against his cock. He trailed hot, greedy kisses down her neck like a man starved. Her heady scent of pineapple and vanilla was intoxicating, leaving him powerless to think rationally. How could he when he could practically taste the tropical combination on her skin? A husky little moan pushed through her lips as she reached down to where she straddled Jonathan’s lap. With achingly slow strokes, she teased her hand up and down.
Holy fuck.
He wanted her. Fast and hard on that table, regardless of who might be watching.
The sweet seductress opened her mouth to say something and let out a quiet, high-pitched yelp. Jonathan pulled back and looked at her, puzzled. Her mouth stayed open as she continued to emit another burst of short, clipped shrieks—one right after another. No human being should be capable of making that obnoxious sound.
It almost sounded like . . . like . . . an alarm.
Jonathan’s eyes popped open, and he realized that the noise was coming from the alarm clock sitting on his bedside table. Five-thirty in the morning felt extra early at that exact moment. He sat up and flipped the covers off him. The sexy little brunette swam through his mind all while the evidence of his arousal tested the confinement of his boxer briefs. It had been a while since Jonathan had had a dream like that. It was so vivid. The sensations, the smell of her.
I need a shower. A cold one.
An hour later, just as the sun popped up over the ridge to the east of town, Jonathan left the Front Street Bakery with a couple dozen donuts and a large beverage carrier full of fresh, hot coffee. He loved this time of day. Before the clog of traffic and tourists descended on the shops and restaurants, there was a refreshing calm that infused his bones and soul. It was invigorating. Whistling a tune, he approached the back door of Off the Beaten Adventures.
Earlier that morning, after he’d washed the horniness off himself in the shower and had his first cup of coffee at home, he’d actively decided to have a good day. Newlyweds be damned. What was the point of grumping about guiding one little camping trip? With a fresh perspective—and fresh donuts—he pushed the door open with his hip and walked in.
Janet was already there, prepping the place to open and welcome the first batch of adventurers. A pang of guilt poked at his chest. He liked being there when she arrived to help her with the process, but he also wanted to bring some breakfast for the crew. Despite his best efforts, he’d been waylaid, waiting his turn at the town’s favorite donut spot. The dude ahead of him couldn’t make up his mind between a bear claw and a classic glazed. Either make a decision or move aside, my man.
“I know, I know! Sorry I’m late,” he called over his shoulder as he set the donuts and coffee down on the table in the break room. “But I brought sugar and caffeine, which I know causes you to forget all indiscretions.”
Using a napkin, he scooped up a pink glazed cake donut coated in rainbow sprinkles and plopped it into Janet’s hand. She cleared her throat, but before she could speak, he continued. “I’m going to need the extra boost today.” He quickly filled Janet’s personal gone fishin’ mug with coffee from the carrier then added a pack of the pink stuff and a splash of cream. Setting the mug on her desk, he smiled. “Just the way you like it,” he said, gesturing to the coffee then strode over to make himself a cup.
“Thank you, dear. But . . .”
“I woke up dreading today’s trip. Newlyweds. Ugh. I know they’re going to be all over each other.” Jonathan groaned as he picked up an apple fritter and took a big bite.
“Jonathan—” Janet tried to cut in.
“Talk about awkward, am I right? Regardless, I’m in a good mood, and I plan on facing the day with optimism.” He rambled on as he chewed.
“That’s nice, dear,” Janet sighed, lowering her glasses to hang from the beaded chain around her neck. She scooped up the novelty mug and tested a sip.
Jonathan walked through the doorway that led to the front lobby to turn on the open sign and unlock the front door. He called over his shoulder, “It’s only a couple of nights, and regardless of how obnoxious the lovebirds are, I can tune them out. Yep, I think it is going to be a relatively easy two thousand—” His voice trailed off, and he froze, hairs prickling up on the back of his neck.
It was her again.
That sexy little brunette was there. Standing in his lobby. Mouth agape with a fistful of Off the Beaten brochures. The same woman who was at The Rooftop the night before. The same woman who starred in his dream that morning. She wore an ungodly bright purple jacket and a tidy French braid. Jonathan registered the faintest whiff of pineapples and vanilla. He shook his head, scolding his senses for conjuring the delusion. But she was here, and his heart (and perhaps other parts of him too) leaped for the briefest of moments.
Then, almost immediately sank into his gut.
Oooooof course she’s here . . . one half of the happy couple.
The disappointment that washed over him was quickly replaced by embarrassment for the way he was talking a moment ago.
Janet stood behind him in the lobby.
“Jonathan, this is Lucy O’Malley, our first customer. She’s scheduled to be with you today.” Reaching up to pat his shoulder, the older woman turned and shuffled back into the office, taking a nibble of her pink donut and humming as she went.
Jonathan felt like an idiot. “Eh, ah . . . I’m sorry. Lucy.” He held out his right hand to shake hers while he rubbed the back of his neck with the other. “I’m Jonathan. Sorry about my behavior. It was rude and uncalled for. If you want to complain to my boss, you have every right. But that would be me, the boss, so feel free to let me have it.” On a whim, he contorted his lips into a self-deprecating smile and winked, hoping she’d forgive him for his misstep if he employed a little of Zac’s trademarked flirting.
With a playful grimace, Lucy reached out her hand and placed it in his. A light pink washed over her cheeks. “Not the best way to kick things off, huh?”
“Admittedly, no. But I’ll let you trip me a few times on the trail if it’ll help?”
“Hmm.” She tapped her finger against that plump lower lip of hers. “Tempting, but I think I’d prefer a fully mobile guide rather than stoop to petty revenge tactics. Besides, I can think of at least a half dozen ways to torture you without slowing our progress.”
Gulp. I bet you could.
A nervous chuckle escaped Jonathan’s throat. Realizing he was still gripping her hand, he released it and stepped back.
Distance. Need distance.
“Either way, it’s nice to meet you, Jonathan. I’ve been looking forward to this trip for months.”
He blew out a relieved breath. Crisis averted. The last thing he wanted was to have a salty set of customers under his wing for the next forty-eight hours. “We’re glad to have you. You just caught me before I’ve had a chance to drink my coffee . . . So, sorry again.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “Where’s your husband?”
“He’s not—”
“Oh shoot, not your husband yet, that’s right. You guys just got engaged, right? He’s probably off grabbing you a latte or something,” he said, glancing out the windows and toward the nearest coffee stand. Already, a half dozen people were lined up.
“—here. I mean, we aren’t a ‘we’ anymore. We broke up a month ago, but I decided to still come on this trip alone, you know, like for a soul-searching thing. That’s super cliché, I know, but I wasn’t sure what else to call it. Anyways, I knew I couldn’t get a refund, and two grand is a lot of money to throw out the window.” She spread out her arms briefly. “So here I am.”
Heat flooded Jonathan’s belly, and a lump rose in his throat. His pulse thrummed in his chest, but this time, it wasn’t because of how attracted he was to this woman.
Clearing his throat, he crossed his arms over his chest. All his efforts at charm had dropped away, leaving only—what he hoped appeared to be—an emotionless resolve. “No.”
“No? No, what?” Her smile dimmed.
“I’m sorry, Miss O’Malley, but this trip is for two people. Off the Beaten does not offer guided tours for individuals without prior knowledge or approval.”
Bullshit .
He knew it was. The truth was that a solo hike deviated from his neatly mapped-out plan. It wasn’t that he was inflexible. Actually, yes, that was precisely the case. But it was for good reason. Jonathan planned every single excursion he guided in an almost obsessively methodical way. He mapped out weather patterns. He prepared for rescue maneuvers that involved the specific number of people who happened to be in attendance. Everything was expertly orchestrated. He made contingencies for his contingencies.
Unless the contingency included guiding one little—albeit sexy—woman out into the wilderness, and the irony of that was definitely not lost on him.
It all boiled down to one thing: fear. He hadn’t led an individual excursion in the past four years and he planned to keep it that way. What if something happened to her and he choked and there wouldn’t be anyone else around to help? It would be his fault. He would be the one responsible.
He turned sharply and walked behind the lobby desk. Finding a few papers there, he ruffled them around, needing something to do with his hands. Maybe he’d look professional doing so and she’d listen to the decisiveness of his words.
“The problem is that you didn’t call and warn us of the change in advance. I don’t mind refunding your money for this circumstance. I’ll call Janet up, and she can sort everything out for you. I’m sorry you wasted your time coming here.” He looked up at her, gave a brisk nod, and turned toward the back office. About to march through the door, he heard her squeak something he couldn’t quite make out. Pausing, he turned. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
Lucy squared her shoulders and stood up straight, clearing her throat. With more volume, she repeated herself, enunciating each word with force. “I said that’s not going to work for me.” Her voice managed to crack a little anyways. The pink of her cheeks turned bright red. From anger? Anxiety? Jonathan wasn’t sure. “Why does it matter if you only end up guiding one person rather than the original two? You can keep the full two thousand.”
Jonathan waved his hand dismissively. “It’s a liability thing, Miss O’Malley. I prepared for certain circumstances, and you springing this on me is unacceptable. Your trip is hereby canceled.” He hoped he spoke firmly enough, with absolute finality.
Clearly, he hadn’t.
“Hereby canceled?” She snorted. “What are you, the hiking police?”
Jonathan strode silently back to Lucy and stopped directly in front of her. He stood so close that she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. Her cheeks were flushed, and her green eyes blazed a maddening emerald. She was pissed; so was he, but he would make her understand the situation.
“I’m the owner of this company and, therefore, have the final say.”
“Fine,” she squeaked. “Then maybe I’ll just go by myself.”
Jonathan narrowed his eyes, evaluating the petite woman standing rigidly before him. “What you do on your own is entirely your business.” She wouldn’t dare go by herself. He didn’t know Lucy, but he was certain she’d hired a guide for a reason. There was no way she’d go off and hike on her own. The notion sent a ripple of anxiety through his chest. He shook off the worry and turned, dismissing the vexing customer.
“Wait, I promise I’m fully capable. I hike all the time, and I can look after myself. I—” Jonathan turned back around as she paused, licking her lips, swallowing convulsively, eyes darting around the room. She clearly wasn’t a poker player. He liked a woman who was uncomfortable lying, and he wondered what falsehood she’d attempt to lob his way. “I-I was an Eagle Scout!” she blurted.
He tilted his head, calculating, and took a step back toward her. Raising one eyebrow, he said levelly, “Girls aren’t allowed to be Eagle Scouts.”
Lucy put her hands on her hips, voice laced with indignance. “Isn’t that a little sexist?”
“You misunderstand me. I didn’t say that I don’t think girls should be Eagle Scouts. I’m saying they haven’t been allowed to be Eagle Scouts,” Jonathan challenged back. He was losing his patience with the exchange. How could one woman be so exasperating?
“Not true!” Lucy spoke quickly. “The first official group of female Eagle Scouts reached the ranking just last year. Er . . . but I was an honorary Eagle Scout back home because I was that good . . . at all of it before girls officially could hold the rank . . .” Chin in the air, she stared him down. “Your website didn’t say anything about your stupid rule. In fact, I’m a notorious fine print reader, and there was nothing in writing about changing plans. Either way, I am not taking no for an answer. I will sit here in the office all day if I have to, recounting the . . . the injustice to any customer who will listen.”
She squared her shoulders and crossed her arms with a huff. Stepping to her left, without breaking eye contact, she moved to lower herself into one of the chairs that sat at the perimeter of the small waiting room. Her aim was off, and she landed on the armrest, toppling the chair over and only narrowly missing the rack of brochures and postcards nearby with her flailing arms.
Jonathan’s lips twitched. With the staring contest over, he started feeling the awkward pang of pity creep up in his chest.
“Fine,” he sighed and scrubbed a hand over his jaw. After righting the tipped-over chair, he pointed a finger straight at her face. “But you are responsible for yourself. I am just here to show you the way, got it?”
Smiling widely, Lucy clapped her hands together. “I promise I can pull my weight. I’m such a pro; you are gonna be so impressed.”
He blinked at her, feeling a mix of apprehension and intrigue. Not an equal mix; apprehension won out three to one. A big part of him was convinced the trip wouldn’t end well. But the other part of him kept highlighting the money he’d be making in the process. The out-and-back route was straightforward: one way in and one way out. As long as she stayed on the trail, there was zero chance of getting lost. Really, if she was the experienced outdoorswoman that she claimed—even if she wasn’t (which he highly suspected)—she could handle it all on her own.
Simple hike or not, the anxiety of having a singular person so reliant on him for safety still made him anxious.
Before he could change his mind, Jonathan marched into the office, snatched a couple of donuts and his coffee, and strode back out to the lobby and passed Lucy. Over his shoulder, he called to her with a saltier edge than he meant to. “Grab your pack. We’re heading out.”