Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Lewis calls the next day—morning, to be exact.
“Ellow?”
A deep chuckle rumbles on the other end of my cell phone. “Gen?”
I sit up and swipe hair out of my mouth. “Yes?” I check the time. Seven. What the…?
“Are you awake?”
I rub my face and try to get my eyelids to fully open. “Sort of.”
“Okay, well, I thought we could get an early start training.”
“You want me to train at seven in the morning?”
“Is that a problem?”
I let out a deep, guttural sigh. He’s doing this for me, I remind myself. “My brain doesn’t function very well at this hour.”
“That’s okay. All I need are your legs. And your arms.”
I slip into a prone position and prop my head on my elbow to stay awake. “For?”
“Swimming.”
Oh, I don’t like the sound of that. “Where?” I ask slowly.
“The lake.”
Definitely don’t like the sound of that. “Are you bringing me a wetsuit?”
“You’re kidding?”
“Not really.”
“No wetsuit. I’ll be there in twenty.”
Lewis pulls off the highway and down a road to the shore north of Zephyr Cove, a place called Cave Rock. Mist hangs over the lake, evidence the water is friggin’ freezing in the morning, and, well, pretty much any time of day. Alpine lakes are not known for their warmth.
“Why are we here so early?” I ask grumpily.
He looks over and smiles. “Not a morning person?”
I raise my eyebrows. “You’re just now noticing? Why? Are you a morning person?” Because if he says yes, I might have to call this entire whatever we have going on off.
“When I have to be. I don’t sleep much.” He exits the Jeep and grabs thick towels from the rear while I stumble out. Lewis takes in my sweatpants and sweatshirt, the hood pulled over my head. “You do have a swimsuit underneath all that, don’t you?”
I glare at him.
He grins. He’s in jeans and a sweatshirt, his hair ruffled as if from sleep.
In spite of my irritable mood, I have to admit he looks really cute first thing in the morning. And he brought me coffee, which saved his life. I cannot be held responsible for my actions when woken at ungodly hours.
Glancing up—way up—I take in the enormous cliff jutting proudly toward the lake like an Egyptian sphinx. Holes drilled through the center provide highway access. “What is Cave Rock?”
Lewis follows my gaze. “A sacred Washoe site.”
“Really?” I look again. The brittle, bricklike layering of stone that forms the cliff appears weathered and different from the rocks of the jetty below.
Lewis walks to the side of a boat ramp. He climbs across the boulders of the jetty and I stare. “You expecting me to follow you, or something?” I call.
He waves me forward. “Come on. I’ll tell you a story when you get out here.”
“Is that supposed to be some kind of incentive?” I take a few tentative steps, my flimsy Keds slipping dangerously. “’Cause it’s not working.”
He looks back and frowns. “Genevieve, the race is just over two weeks away. You are not ready. Scaling these stones and catching up to me is the first phase of your training today.”
The first phase?
I’m doing the weightlifting, the running, not to mention the gym and cascades torture, but I trust him if he says I’m not ready for the race.
Mentally, I’m most definitely not ready.
Physically, it’s debatable. I might finish the mudder with a decent time, considering my track conditioning—if I’m able to scale the walls, which is dubious.
But the mudder doesn’t simply test physical endurance, it tests mental resilience.
We reach the end of the jetty and I sit on a flat stone, my legs dangling over the edge.
They’re not sore for once, and though scaling the rocks took concentration, I don’t feel fatigued.
The mist no longer lingers on the water, but that doesn’t equate to warmth below.
The temperature outside is a cool sixty and rising, which means the water must also be in the sixties. Cold.
“So what’s this story you’re going to tell me?”
Lewis unzips his sweatshirt and lays it on top of the towels. He sinks onto a rock and props up a knee, leaning back on his elbow. My gaze strays to the smooth, ripped bicep peeking out of his T-shirt. Everything about Lewis is compelling—the way he moves, the things he says, his body.
When I look up he’s watching me. I should be embarrassed that he caught me checking him out, but I’m too startled by the matched look in his eyes. Longing.
For a moment, I think he’s going to reach over and kiss me, but his heated gaze cuts to the lake and he doesn’t say anything.
I stare at the water and try to figure out what just happened. Did I do something wrong? If he had kissed me, I wouldn’t have minded, no matter how tired and irritable I am.
A small duck suns itself on a stone separated from the rest of the boulders that form the jetty. This rock is smooth, the same color as Cave Rock—brown and weathered.
Lewis picks up a piece of loose gravel and weighs it in his hand.
“As I mentioned, this place is sacred.” His expression is thoughtful, as if he’s considering how to continue.
He throws the pebble without disturbing the sunbathing duck.
Miniature ripples cut through the glassy water.
“Healers used the cave as a place to commune with the spirits. Anyone else was unwelcome at Cave Rock.”
He glances at me, one corner of his mouth pulled back.
“My ancestors were pissed when men carved tunnels for roads. Climbers later cemented the interior of the caves. Attempts have been made to repair the damage, but as you can see”—he points to cars whizzing through the center—“some things can’t be fixed. ”
His gaze turns inward and for a moment he seems somewhere else. “Lewis?”
He blinks and glances at the cliff. “There’s an old Washoe saying that a bird called Ong visits anyone who trespasses on Cave Rock. Ong’s wings are said to span villages, the wing beats capable of bending pine trees. Only healers actually see Ong; to everyone else he moves in shadow.”
Lewis peers at me, his expression dead serious. “The Washoe believe Ong lives in the underworld and comes and goes through the center of the lake to feed on trespassers of sacred ground.”
I smile calmly. He’s trying to freak me out. “It’s a myth, meant to keep non-healers away so the healers had a special place.”
He shrugs and stares at the center of the lake. “A few climbers who cemented the floors of the cave met with mysterious deaths.”
He points to the base of the cliff, about a quarter of a mile away. “Swim there and back. Two laps.”
I laugh. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“You told me a creepy story about some devil bird that eats people who go near Cave Rock, and you want me to swim to it? Twice?”
He leans over and squeezes my bicep. “Toughen you up.”
“Oww—” I rub my arm and glare. “Why can’t you go with me? The lake is cold. What if I become hypothermic?”
He rubs his chin. “That’s a possibility. I’ll keep an eye on you.” He pulls off his T-shirt and unbuttons loose jeans, and I watch because—gahhh.
Lewis is muscles and sinew and masculine beauty, and how am I supposed to look away from that?
My face is on fire and I’m pretty sure the red extends down my chest.
He strips to board shorts and repositions himself on the jetty, nodding at the water. “Better go before Ong wakes up.”
“How exactly will this help me in the race?”
“It won’t. In the race, you’ll swim through ice water. The lake is like a bath compared to that, but this is the closest thing I could find on short notice.” He scratches his head. “I could get the guys from work to build a small pool and fill it with ice—”
“No.” I stand and strip off my sweats. “This is good.” Better not let him finish that thought. I think he’s serious.
When I glance at him, Lewis is staring at my legs, his gaze running up the rest of my exposed skin.
I’m wearing one of my sturdier bikinis with extra material—I figured Lewis would torture me in some fashion and wanted to come prepared—but it’s still a bikini because that’s all I own.
You’d think I’d be more comfortable in a one-piece, given my conservative clothing preferences, but everyone bares skin at the beach or a pool.
I’m just one more body and I’ve never thought much of it.
I’m thinking about it now.
I’ve never been this undressed in front of Lewis, and the way he’s looking at me has my skin heating.
He grins when I catch him staring.
He’s flirting again. So, so dangerous. My inhibitions dissolve around flirty Lewis. It’s a good thing I’m upset with him for dragging me here.
I hold my breath and jump in the water.
And my organs shrivel, joints locking from the cold.
Son of a bitch. I rise to the surface, arms and legs wagging to get me as high out of the arctic water as possible. “Oh my God, oh my God—”
“Better get a move on before Ong finds you,” Lewis calls.
“You are the devil!” I yell between chattering teeth. I swim as fast as I can to Cave Rock, Lewis’s laugh rumbling behind me.
My heart pumps with anxiety. I don’t know why his stupid bird story scared me. Maybe it was the way he told it. Maybe it’s this place, but Jesus. Man-eating birds and ancient Native American sites? I don’t need this.
Only yes, I do. Drake and every jerk who came before him prove I need to toughen up, as Lewis so bluntly pointed out.
Mudder—that’s the goal. Afterward, I will be a tough chick and guys will think twice before messing with me.
Rocks and other indistinguishable blobs pass below in the clear water. I’m trying not to look at the shadows and guess at what they are, but it’s not working. Goddamn, Lewis. I flip over and backstroke for a while.