Chapter 21
LEXI
E aston rinses our plates and loads them into the dishwasher.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, eyes on me.
“It’s odd, seeing you be … domestic .”
This makes him laugh. “In another life, I think I was a house husband.”
“ Trophy husband, for sure.” I nod, my eyes gliding over his body.
“That too,” he says.
In the short-sleeved shirt, his tattoos are on full display. I lick my lips, trying very hard not to eye-fuck him but finding it difficult. Especially after he was the main character in my fantasies last night.
His blue eyes sparkle as he studies me, and it’s easy to imagine him as someone else in a different scenario with a loving wife and a family.
I know that when Easton is in a relationship, he commits to it. He seems like the person who is either one hundred percent in or one hundred percent out. There’s no in-between, unlike every man I’ve ever dated.
I push the thought away as I stand and stretch.
“How’d you sleep last night?” he asks, wiping his hands on a dish towel.
After I crawled into bed with him, I listened to the rainfall and drifted away. I dreamed of nothing.
“I think you might be my nightmare catcher.”
Quickly, my mind wanders to this morning, when I woke up and I was holding him and his grip was firmly on my upper thigh. It was dominant and sexy, but I know he’s not in control of what he does when he’s asleep.
“Nightmare catcher . I like it .” Easton checks his watch.
“Sounds frightening, but it’s not. Fitting, considering you’re not as terrible as you want people to believe.”
“Lexi, don’t convince yourself the man they say I am doesn’t exist. Being an asshole is very much a part of who I am.”
I give him a small smile. “Oh, I know. I’ve met that version of you. Total dickhead .”
Laughter releases from his perfect lips. “You’re into it.”
“We all have a type,” I say matter-of-factly.
“And I’m yours?” His mouth curves up into a devious grin.
“In another lifetime,” I say, knowing I cannot have this conversation with him because he knows. He sees right through me. The mask I wear is invisible to him.
“Let’s play a game.” Easton pulls a small notebook from his pocket, flips it to the back, and rips two sheets of paper the size of my palm from the spiral.
He scribbles something on his, folds it in half, then hands me the pen.
“Rate me on your dream partner scale from one to five, and we’ll trade later. ”
“One being no way in Hell?” I ask, tapping the pen against my lips.
“And five being you’d whisper their name as you came,” he says with that goddamn smirk.
I swallow down the words I want to say. If he knew, he shouldn’t have been chickenshit. He should’ve opened the door and given me what my body was desperately begging for— him .
“That sounds pretty hot, doesn’t it?” I meet his intense gaze.
“It’s very fucking hot,” he mutters in a deep gruff.
Yep, I might internally combust, especially when his eyes slide down to my lips and he focuses on them.
“Now who’s eye-fucking who?” I call him out, trying to calm my beating heart as I scribble down my number.
“Mmm.” It comes from his throat like a growl.
I fold and tuck it into my front jeans pocket.
I notice the black silk in his palm when he glances at his watch. Easton stalks toward me, crossing the space in long strides. Then, his hands are on my shoulders, turning me around, placing the material over my eyes.
“The car will be here in five minutes,” he says close to my ear.
“Is the blindfold necessary?”
“Yes. Considering you ruin surprises, it’s absolutely necessary.” He carefully ties it behind my head, but doesn’t step away. Instead, he moves directly in front of me. His body and mouth are inches from me as his voice falls to a low husk. “Now, tell me, darling, can you see me?”
I shake my head. “Unfortunately, no .”
“Good.”
I wish I could though, because I feel his eyes on me, studying me, trying to figure me out.
Easton is a work of art with straight lines and edges carved into his body. He’s like a sculpture and I have to stop myself from admiring him more often than not. Something that absolutely shouldn’t happen.
He pats my shoulder, placing both hands on me as he moves me through the living room.
“Will you let me guess what we’re doing today?”
“No.” He’s abrupt. “And I wouldn’t tell you if you somehow figured it out; which you won’t. I’m too unpredictable.”
Easton stops walking and I hear the door open. He leads me out onto the porch. I imagine the stairs I walked up yesterday after we arrived and slightly panic, knowing I won’t make it down.
His hands slide under me as if he can read my mind, and I’m lifted into his arms. I hold on to him, not letting go as we descend the steps. Right now, I’m so damn thankful for this blindfold because I wouldn’t be able to look away from him. Not when he acts like Prince Charming.
Easton continues forward, carefully setting me down, keeping his hands on me until I’m steady. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t make it.”
“You’re right,” I say, licking my lips. “You can stop staring now.”
“Can you see me?” he asks, his voice low.
I shake my head. “No.”
I imagine him smirking, and those stupid butterflies flutter.
No, no, no, I think, lost in my thoughts as I chew on the corner of my lip.
I cannot fall in love with this man.
Birds chirp in the distance as the mountain breeze whips across my cheeks. I hear gravel under tires, followed by a car door swinging open. Easton places his hand on my back, guiding me inside.
“Keep the blindfold on the entire time. No peeking. I’ll meet you there.”
“Wait, what?” I barely get out before the door shuts.
The car moves forward and my heart gallops.
Thirty minutes later, the car comes to a stop, and the seconds feel like minutes as I wait. I don’t know how much time passes before the door opens. It feels like an hour, but it might’ve been ten minutes.
“Lexi,” Easton says, and I relax.
“I missed you,” I say, holding my hand out to him.
As soon as he has me, he interlocks his fingers with mine. I squeeze three times, and he squeezes twice.
“Sorry, it took a little longer than I anticipated.”
“It’s fine. Hopefully, no one got fired,” I joke.
“Not this time,” he tells me as we continue to walk forward.
“Can I take the blindfold off now?”
“Very soon.”
I hear something in the distance and feel a whooshing of wind.
“One second,” he says, and I’m being swooped up in his arms again and placed into a seat.
Hands reach across me, and I’m buckled into something before a door closes. It smells like a new car, fresh leather and plastic. Easton climbs in, but I can’t place any of the sounds. They’re all unfamiliar.
Something is placed over my ears—headphones?
“Are you ready?” he asks on the headset.
“For what?”
Then, I feel a different sensation like we’re going straight up and levitating.
“You can take your blindfold off now.”
I suck in a deep breath, removing the material from my eyes. That’s when I see I’m inside a helicopter , and when I look over, Easton is at the controls.
“You said you were afraid of flying.”
“One thing about me, Lexi: when I’m afraid of something, I go after it head-on with zero regrets. I started taking flying lessons when I was sixteen. I have a private pilot’s license too. I trust myself and no one else.”
I’m stunned silent.
He smiles as we soar over mountaintops, and I glance at the rushing river down below. On the bank, elk graze in a herd, and I gasp.
“In a minute, you’ll be able to see Grand Teton,” he says.
The valley opens up wide and I spot the pointy peaks in the distance. It’s a clear sky, and it looks like a Hollywood backdrop.
“Is that real?”
“I think that every time I see them. Gorgeous, isn’t it?”
“Breathtaking. Thank you. This is incredible . And you’re right; I wouldn’t have ever guessed this.” I glance over at him, smiling. “From house husband to helicopter pilot. Impressed, ” I say.
Sunlight leaks through the windows, causing his watch to sparkle on his wrist. Easton looks down below and calls out something on the radio. It sounds like pilot jargon. Moments later, we’re descending, landing in an open, grassy field.
In the distance sits a neon-green Jeep with big tires and the top off. On the back is an ice chest that’s caked with mud. A twisty trail travels up the side of the mountain to the very top.
He cuts the helicopter’s engine then unbuckles and reaches over to help me.
“I hope you love this,” he says.
“I already do.”
Our gazes linger too long before he opens the door for me.
Easton gets out and meets me on the ground. I step down and stumble into his arms.
“I’m sorry,” I say with a laugh.
“I’m getting used to it,” he says, letting me go.
We take the short hike to the Jeep. It’s lifted, and it sits on fat, knobby tires for climbing and trail riding.
I walk around it. “This thing is a monster.”
Easton opens the driver’s door and steps to the side. “You can go first.”
“Fuck yes,” I say, clapping my hands together.
“Don’t make me regret it,” he tells me.
I climb up the step, pull myself inside, and buckle the harness seat belt, noticing the reinforced roll bars. I move the seat closer to the steering wheel, knowing whoever drove this thing last must’ve been a giant.
Easton adjusts the passenger seat, shaking his head. “We’ve got fifteen miles of trails to climb. When it gets rough and beats the shit out of you, we can trade. Overall, the view is worth it.”
He points to a single dirt track with several switchbacks.
I lean backward, covering my eyes with my hand, and wish I’d brought a hat.
“You think you can handle it?” he questions.
“Pfft. Let’s fucking go,” I say.
He grabs onto the oh shit bar, and I kick in the clutch, popping it into first gear as we take off toward the trail.
“When do I get to start asking you questions?”
“Now.”
“What were you like as a teenager?”