Chapter 18 #3
Tobin vaulted easily over the branch before speaking.
“Just Harrow, for siblings. We lost our dad when we were teenagers— cancer.” Her voice faltered, the words nearly catching in her throat.
Grier could feel the palpable strain it took for Tobin to collect herself and continue.
She understood, without words, that Tobin’s family shared the same fierce closeness as her own—just tempered by deeper loss.
“It was a pivotal time in my life,” Tobin continued softly.
“Harrow and I spent a lot of time with our grandparents at their cherry orchard. It destroyed our mom for a while, but she eventually came home to us. We have a great relationship now.”
Tobin’s voice grew tender as she spoke, more reverent with each detail.
Grier listened in awe—captivated by the way Tobin described her family’s love, her parents’ devotion, her grandparents’ enduring marriage.
It was obvious Tobin described their fairytale-like relationships as ones against which she graded her own.
As they walked side by side, Grier couldn’t quell the flood of romantic ideas pummeling her heart and mind, wondering if theirs could be the dream come true Tobin so clearly believed in. Regardless of where their relationship led, she sincerely hoped that Tobin would find her happily ever after.
As the terrain grew steeper, so did the intensity of their conversation.
Tobin’s piloting career fascinated Grier, just as Grier’s own education seemed to impress Tobin.
She shared the story of Nora, carefully suppressing the tears that threatened to spill, and explained why her brother’s no-longer-secret girlfriend had affected her so profoundly yesterday.
Time seemed both suspended and accelerated as they hiked, fully immersed in each other and their words.
Grier was astonished when they reached a gorgeous, open clearing.
Tobin stopped and loosened the chest straps of her pack.
Gray clouds loomed ominously overhead—visible for the first time since they entered the forest. The dense forest canopy had obscured the sky and shielded them from the light drizzle that had begun to fall as they hiked.
Tobin wore dark khaki hiking pants patched over previous tears, and a chambray long-sleeved button-up fastened only below her sternum, revealing a fitted white tank top and the slimmest edges of a black bra.
Her rolled-up sleeves exposed the forearm tattoos Grier had admired during their first encounter.
She was reminded of the ink she knew adorned Tobin’s torso and chest—markings she had yet to fully see—and felt the pang of desire settle deep in her core as she imagined freely exploring them.
Tobin pulled a few paper bags from her pack and handed one to Grier. “Paper bags are best for morels,” she explained. Tobin could have been talking about toilet paper and it wouldn’t have mattered— Grier hung on her every word.
“Morels can be elusive,” Tobin continued, “but I’ve had excellent luck here. Let’s start along the periphery, near the trees and fallen trunks, then make our way toward the center of the clearing.”
Grier took the bag, admiring how versed Tobin was in mushroom hunting and eager to follow her lead.
She trailed behind along the tree line, neither of them rushed or straying too far from each other.
Grier wandered a few feet to examine a more bulbous mushroom growing on a rotting log when she caught Tobin squatting in her periphery. Moments later, Tobin called her over.
She didn’t hesitate to move to Tobin’s side, crouching with her in the tall grass that Tobin gently brushed aside to reveal a small circle of beautiful black morels hiding in plain sight. Grier squealed, delighted by Tobin’s skillful find, and gasped softly when Tobin handed her a small knife.
“You should make the first cut,” Tobin said, her voice certain. “Since it’s your first time.”
After discovering that first cluster, they quickly found several more over the next half hour, gradually working their way from the tree line toward the center of the clearing—never straying far from one another.
The drizzle had thickened, and Grier felt invigorated by the familiar scent of ozone.
There was a charge in the air, though she couldn’t quite tell if it came from the approaching thunderstorm or the simmering chemistry between her and Tobin.
Something heady and electric. Something daring.
“I think we have enough for dinner. Did you get your fill for your first morel-hunting experience?” Tobin asked as she carefully tucked their paper bags into her pack.
Grier admired the tenderness in Tobin’s movements—the quiet grace with which she handled their delicate finds—and the new, more open posture that seemed to emerge around her.
That subtle shift gave Grier hope. Tobin was growing more comfortable in her presence—but not too comfortable.
Because every step they took toward open, trusting communication was arguably two or three steps deeper into the burning inferno of her libido.
Her desire for Tobin’s touch—and to touch her—consumed every piece of kindling along its path, igniting at Grier’s throbbing center.
Slow was good. Slow was reasonable. But fuck, if she didn’t want to combust every time Tobin looked at her, let alone touched her. Her body was ready—aching—to feel the searing touch of Tobin’s gaze, her hands, her body, scorching across her skin. She wanted to positively melt into this woman.
“This was incredible! I’ve lived here my entire life and never done this.” She looked around the clearing, struck by the realization that she’d explored so much of this forest over the past thirty-five years—yet never this trail, never this place.
“I don’t think I’m ready to head back yet, though. I want to explore a little more.”
When she turned back, Tobin was watching her—partially kneeling at her pack, with a look of quiet, unmistakable wonder on her face.
Grier felt the blush creep up her neck under that gaze, the warmth of being seen in such an unguarded way making her feel more vulnerable and exposed than she ever had before.
“Is that okay?” she asked softly.
Tobin stood and reached for her hand, cocking her head toward the trees behind her. “I’m really glad you said that, because there’s something I want to show you.”
Grier let the momentum of Tobin’s steps pull her forward, suddenly nervous as she recognized a subdued excitement in Tobin.
Tobin led her about a hundred yards deeper into the forest, where the faint murmur of moving water grew steadily louder.
The babble became a steady murmur of white noise, punctuated by the rhythmic sound of splashing.
They stopped before a small copse of trees that obscured their path. Tobin squeezed Grier’s hand, glancing back with an edge of wildness and mystery gleaming in her eyes, then guided them through the thicket.
On the other side, they stepped onto a naturally flattened section of jagged clifftop. Grier’s breath caught. Before them, a small stream cascaded off the edge into a clear, baby-blue swimming hole thirty feet below, mist rising from the surface like breath.
She could feel Tobin watching her as she took it all in—up, down, everywhere—barely breathing. How had she never been? Never even known this place existed? It had to be a local secret. A pang of jealousy tugged at her chest for not having discovered it sooner.
“I was hoping for that exact reaction,” Tobin said faintly, squeezing her hand and tugging her a little closer to the edge of the rocks. They stared down into the water below, the mist rising to kiss their faces.
Grier was captivated. She couldn’t formulate words. Her heart raced, and she couldn’t tell if the sound in her ears was the rush of her own blood or the roar of the waterfall. She didn’t care. There was only one appropriate reaction—and her body acted on its own volition.
She pulled Tobin back toward her. The surprised flickering across Tobin’s face barely registered before Grier narrowed the distance between their lips, meeting her with a passion formed of gratitude, disbelief, and an ever-present undercurrent of unadulterated sensuality.
She claimed Tobin’s lips, and Tobin responded in kind.
Grier parted her mouth, desperate for more—for Tobin to take more.
Her knees went weak as Tobin dragged the tip of her tongue along the length of her own.
She bucked her tongue against Tobin’s, chasing it as it retreated, then traced hers along the roof of Tobin’s mouth, eliciting a whimper from the back of her own throat.
Her fingers slid up Tobin’s jaw, feeling the shiver that rippled beneath her touch as their mouths danced and explored.
A gentle roll of thunder trembled through the air, startling them from their kiss. Grier panted, resting her forehead on Tobin’s chest, listening to the erratic beat of her heart. She liked knowing she could do that to her.
Then a spark of mischief flared.
Reluctantly, she eased back, smirking at the soft gasp that left Tobin’s throat. When their eyes met, Grier knew the glint in hers was the biggest startle of Tobin’s day.
Without a word, she held Tobin’s gaze—a silent challenge, an invitation—and toed off her hiking boots. Then reached for the button of her pants.
“Wha—what are you doing?” Tobin croaked, intrigue thick in her voice.
She hadn’t intended to strip for Tobin, but damn if she wasn’t enjoying the look of confusion on her face as she wordlessly peeled off her pants and then slipped off her socks.
She unzipped her rain jacket, savoring the show as Tobin fought her emotions—wanting to look away, but losing the fight to desire.
The tension crackled between them, an invisible thread that tightened with every layer Grier shed.