Chapter 9
Brooke
I shouldn’t be sharing this. I’ve never told anyone, not even Camille.
But Kaleb looks deep in my eyes and the words tumble free like they’ve fought for eight months to get loose.
“Grace came here to shoot Kneef’s Lighthouse.” I may as well start there. “She had a gallery show lined up, and that image was meant to be the piéce de résistance.”
“Oh.” Kaleb frowns. “The picture Cassidy bought for her boss.”
“No.” I’m not telling this right. “That’s the photo she took nine years earlier, just as her career got started. It’s her most famous image and she wanted to shoot it again. To capture it differently, with new technology. New skills.” I draw a deep breath and keep going. “She said it was one of her favorite places on earth.”
“Understandable,” Kaleb says softly. “It’s beautiful there.”
I’ve never been. I can’t bring myself to go there. “She wanted to shoot it at sunset. The gallery planned a release party on the tenth anniversary of the first one.”
I don’t notice I’m shaking until Kaleb squeezes my hand. “You don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to.”
“I do.” I’ve put it off too long. “Sometimes you have to say things out loud so they don’t eat you up inside.”
There’s a flash of gray clouds in Kaleb’s blue eyes. Then it’s gone as he squeezes my hand. “So, she came here to shoot the lighthouse.”
“Yes.” I draw another deep breath. “Grace loved seeing new places, meeting new people. She especially loved to hitchhike.” I nod as Kaleb’s eyes widen. “Scary, right? So dangerous.”
“People make their own choices.” He looks conflicted. “I’d be concerned if Harper started hitchhiking. Or Lucy. Or—hell, I don’t recommend it for anyone of any gender.”
“Which is why I bought her a car.” I draw another breath. “I was making good money by then, and I wanted to help her out. It seemed like a good way to keep Grace safe. Safer.”
“Okay.” His thumb strokes my knuckles, bumping each valley and ridge. “That doesn’t make the accident your fault.”
“I’m not done.” Closing my eyes, I get my heart rate under control. My pulse beats wildly, a dull thud that drowns out my thoughts. “Once Grace gave up hitching to drive herself, I worried about maintenance. Was she getting her oil checked? Did her tires need to be rotated? Should I make sure her insurance was up to date?”
“All valid concerns.”
As I open my eyes, a shiny black bird launches itself from the tree right behind us. “I bought Grace a big toolkit to keep in her car. Flares and jacks and those clampy things you use when your battery dies.”
“Jumper cables.”
“Jumper cables, yes.” I’ve pushed all the terms from my mind. “A total dick move, because guess what I do when something goes wrong with my car?”
He watches my face like he’s choosing his words carefully. “You call a professional.”
“Right.” A brittle laugh rattles out of me. “Not even that—I’d have my assistant call a professional.” As Kaleb well knows.
“Nothing wrong with that.” He’s rubbing my arms as my blood rushes through them. “Same with the emergency kit. Everyone should have one.”
“Even if they don’t know how to use any of it?” My voice has a ragged quality I don’t quite recognize. “But Grace was always different. She wanted to be self-sufficient, and I encouraged it. Sent her a gift card for a series of classes on car repairs.”
“Like Lagers and Learning.” The other shoe drops. “That’s why you didn’t want to go.”
“A little like that, yes.” This feels good to get out in the open. “She took six or seven classes. Stuff like how to change a flat or what to do if your engine overheats. Basic things I told Grace every car owner ought to know.”
“They should.”
“ I don’t.” I swipe at my eyes, which seem to be leaking again. “That’s what a hypocrite I am. I can’t tell a wrench from a set of pliers, but I insisted my baby sister learn to handle it if she got into trouble.”
“Brooke, that’s not?—”
“She got into trouble.”
The look in his eyes says he knew this was coming.
I need to get the words out now. They’re eating me up from inside. “She’d just finished shooting the lighthouse. She called from her car, all happy and laughing, and we talked for more than an hour.”
Kaleb’s brow furrows. “She had service?”
“She wasn’t talking and driving, if that’s what you mean. She was still in the lot by the lighthouse. She loved it so much there; she joked about staying all night.” I press on with my story. “By the time we hung up, it was late.”
I watch him flip back through his mental calendar. “December? It gets dark fast that time of year.”
Closing my eyes, I picture the scene as the policeman described it. “A storm rolled in. Wind, rain, the whole works.” Also common in December, from what I’ve heard. “She made it to Obliot Cape.”
He nods like he knows it. “Two miles north of the lighthouse. More like a mile as the crow flies.
Which means the road must be winding. I’ve never been totally sure. “She was going fifty. That’s what police estimated.”
He doesn’t reply, and I wonder if that’s fast for that stretch of road. Maybe that’s why I haven’t been there. I don’t want to blame Grace, not even a little.
“She hit a rock in the road.” I wince as I say it. “A rock the size of a grapefruit.”
“Shit.” He frowns. “Rockslides are common there. Between the rain and slick roads—” He stops and shakes his head. “It’s just Mother Nature being heartless.”
He has no idea.
“The second she hit it, her tire blew.”
“She lost control?”
“No, that’s the thing.” This part makes it worse. “Thanks to those stupid courses, she knew how to steer through a blowout. She got to the shoulder and turned on her flashers and set out a flare.” Everything she’d been taught to do. “Know how I’d handle it if I got a flat?”
“Call me, I hope.” He squeezes my hand. “Everyone’s different.”
“Thanks to me, she thought she had it under control. I’d urged her to be independent.” I can’t believe how much I hate myself right now. “She knew how to change a tire, so she got out her jacks and her wrenches and—and—goddamn it, I don’t even know.”
But that’s not the point. “She was lying on the side of the road when the semi truck came through.”
“Oh, God.” His face drains of color. “No.”
“Yes.” I swipe at my eyes again. “It ran over her legs, but it was so dark that night—so rainy and windy with no visibility. The driver said later he never saw her. Felt a bump in the road, but with rocks everywhere?—”
“He didn’t see her car? The flares?”
“In his rearview mirror, he did.” I swallow hard, fighting for breath. “She was wearing dark jeans and a navy-blue hoodie.”
Nearly invisible on a dark, stormy road.
“Did he stop?” Frowning, he shakes his head. “Scratch that. It’s a narrow road. There’s no place to turn, not in a semi.”
“I don’t blame the driver.” He’s not the one who convinced my sister to get out her toolbox and change her own tire. “He got on his CB radio and called it in. But on a night like that?—”
“Not a lot of folks out.” Kaleb knows how it is. “When big storms roll through, emergency personnel have their hands full.”
“That’s right.” Wetting my lips, I make myself keep going. “By the time police got there, she was already gone. She’d lost too much blood. If they’d gotten there sooner—” But no. That’s not really the issue. “She shouldn’t have been in the road. It’s my fault she was.”
“Brooke, no?—”
“Don’t patronize me, Kaleb.” I know what I know, and it’s this. “If I hadn’t taken her call—if I’d told her to get on the road before dark—Grace would be alive.”
“Brooke—”
“If it wasn’t for me, she never would have gotten out of her car. She didn’t know a wrench from a hammer before I bought her that stupid toolbox. The only reason she thought she could do it herself was because I told her she could .” I’m shouting now, but I don’t care. Tears streak my cheeks and drip down the front of my shirt. “ I convinced my sister to take charge of her own transportation. To fix her stupid car instead of asking for help like I would have. That’s the only reason she’s dead, Kaleb—because America’s fucking advice queen told her to do it herself.”
“Oh, honey.” His arms go around me, wrapping me in a hug that smells faintly of fern and rainwater. “Oh, Brooke.”
He’s stroking my hair, soothing me like a pet scared of thunderstorms. That’s what undoes me, the kindness. My legs buckle, giving out like there’s Jell-o in my knees.
But Kaleb takes my weight. Holding me up, he keeps stroking my shoulders and back. “I promise you, sweetheart, this wasn’t your fault.”
The lie makes me cry harder. I’m beyond words now, so I breathe him in, ear pressed to his chest like I’m absorbing his strength.
Ribsy gets up, alarmed by my sobs. She trots to my side and sets one big paw on my foot, leaning her weight on my leg. The warmth of her body seeps through my leggings as Kaleb’s heat spreads from his chest to my cheek.
I can’t seem to stop crying.
“Brooke, honey.” He’s petting my hair, speaking low in my ear. “I know you won’t believe this, but please listen to the guy who’s gone thousands of miles in a tow rig to some of the gnarliest wrecks you can imagine. You name the automotive problem, I’ve fixed it. Can you listen a minute with all that in mind?”
I think I might nod, or maybe I’m wiping my nose on his shirt. My soggy consent must suffice.
“In every accident I’ve ever seen, there are a thousand things that could have gone differently. Maybe if the kids in the backseat weren’t arguing, Dad wouldn’t have hit the phone pole. Or if someone hadn’t stopped for a latte or gone back for a forgotten phone, they’d have reached the intersection five minutes sooner when the drunk driver was back at the bar. Does that make it their fault?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “A thousand tiny choices put someone in the wrong place at the wrong time, and it’s just dumb fucking bad luck. I know that might not feel better—dumb luck’s a shitty way to go. But it’s true, and it means you couldn’t possibly be in control.”
A watery sob escapes me. “But if I hadn’t convinced her she could fix her own car—” Or hell, even before that. “If I hadn’t bought her the car in the first place?—”
“—then maybe she’d hitchhike with the wrong guy and end up kidnapped or tortured or—” He must decide that’s not helping. “Or she’d neglect some routine maintenance—an oil change or spark plugs—and her engine burns out going eighty on a crowded interstate. Or Christ, I once pulled a rig from a sixteen-car pileup, and you know what caused it? Some guy changed his wiper blades wrong, and they flew off in a rush hour rainstorm. This other time, I found a squirrel carcass in the engine compartment of a truck I pulled from a fire that torched three vehicles.” He takes a breath, and I wonder how long he could keep going. How many stories Kaleb could tell. “My point is that there are endless what-ifs and only one thing for sure.”
I swipe at my eyes but keep my face pressed to his shirt. “What’s that?”
“We’re not in control.” He squeezes me tight as he says it. “We like to think we are, because it makes us believe we can keep bad things from happening. But that’s bullshit.”
A laugh that’s not really a laugh rattles out of me. “There’s a title for my next book.”
“Maybe should be.” He might really think so. “Your sister sounds like a wild spirit. I’ve known lots of people like that.”
“She was one of a kind.” I’m struck by a fleeting thought that Grace would have loved Kaleb. “She had a mind of her own.”
“Which means nothing you could have said would have held her back.”
“But I didn’t have to give her false confidence.” I’m not ready to let this go. “It’s like I gave her a loaded gun. Or—I don’t know—handed a pack of syringes to an addict?” Kaleb flinches, and it’s my turn to know I’ve picked the wrong words. “I empowered Grace to go exploring. To believe she could do anything if she put her mind to it.”
“You weren’t wrong.”
“I was , though,” I insist, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. “I made her fearless, when a healthy dose of fear might’ve kept her safe.” I pull back to look Kaleb in the eye. To be sure he hears what I’m saying. “I was her person . Her closest confidant. I knew all her secrets and she knew all mine. I made her believe she could do anything. She made choices she wouldn’t have made if I hadn’t encouraged her.”
Kaleb squeezes my hand. There’s a storm in his deep blue eyes. “Your sister made her own choices.”
“That she might not have made without me.” It’s a sort of relief to say this out loud. To not carry this secret alone. “I pushed her into the world, convinced she could do anything. Of course I set her up to fail.”
He studies my face like he’s rolling my words over in his mind. Something about it makes me uneasy.
“Brooke,” he says softly. “We can go around in circles for days about who’s to blame for what happened to Grace. It won’t bring her back though, will it?”
I shake my head slowly, not willing to concede the point. “That’s the thing about guilt, though. Logic doesn’t make a dent in it.”
“I understand.” Something in how he says it convinces me he does. “I am so fucking sorry about what happened to your sister. Nothing on earth hurts worse than losing someone whose life is so tangled with yours that you’re left limping along with twisted ropes wrapped around your ankles. It sucks—there’s no other way to put it.”
“Yes,” I breathe, aching for Kaleb’s shared pain. “You’re right, it does.”
But his mother came back.
Grace never will.
I don’t say this out loud because it’s not even a little bit helpful. No one wins in a game of who hurts more, and pointing this out won’t make Kaleb soften toward his mom.
Ribsy must sense my storm ebbing. She gets to her feet, taking her weight off my leg. Casting her baleful eyes at my face, she waits for a sign I’m okay.
“Thank you,” I whisper, not sure if I’m talking to her or to Kaleb. I scratch the dog’s ears, and she takes it to mean her nap can resume.
As she trots to her shrub, I wipe at my eyes with a sleeve. “It helps, I think,” I tell Kaleb. “Knowing you get it. That you’ve been in my shoes.”
The pain in his eyes hooks my kneecaps again and I wobble. Kaleb holds me up. “If it makes you feel better,” he says, “I’d do anything to take away your pain.”
A figure of speech I’ve heard plenty of times. But coming from Kaleb, it feels true. If this man found a way to pile everyone’s hurt on his own shoulders, he’d do it. He’d do it even if it meant crumbling under the weight of it all.
It’s the best and the worst thing about him.
“Thank you.” I wipe my face with the hem of my shirt. I feel sticky and emptied out, like the desert after a rainstorm. “Thank you for everything.”
“Everything?” He tilts his head like he’s not quite sure what I mean. “Like dragging you to an emotionally triggering class? Taking you out on a hike where you’re forced to confront your own grief? Busting your bra?”
“I’m grateful for all of that.” I laugh as a weight lets go of my shoulders. “Especially the bra.”
He smiles and wraps his arms around me, resting his chin on my head. “Anytime, Brooke.”
We stand like that for a minute, maybe two. A ripple of wind blows a feathery branch through my hair, and Kaleb brushes it back. The sharp scent of ocean swirls with something earthy and deep. Maybe grass at the fringe of the lake or the spongy soil under our boots. A cluster of geese goes honking across the horizon as headlights slash fog on the distant road.
A flicker of movement snags my eye beyond Kaleb’s shoulder. I draw back and stare at the tree. “Your tire swing.”
He looks where I’m pointing. “That’s it.”
“It’s bigger than I thought.”
“I get that a lot.”
I choke on a bubble of laughter. “That doesn’t surprise me.”
He turns so we both face the swing. A fresh gust of wind sets it swaying again, and Kaleb slides an arm around me. “It’s a tractor tire. That’s why it’s oversized.”
“I wondered.” The tire hangs lengthwise, its center an O framing the hillside behind it. “When’s the last time you sat on it?”
“A couple months.” He answers so quickly that I look up. “The day my mother came back to town.”
“Oh.” That seems significant. “You’re sure that rope is secure?”
“Positive.” He watches the side of my face. “You want to try it?”
“Maybe.” I’ve never been on a tire swing before. “Do you sit in the middle or on top?”
He starts toward the swing, sliding an arm around me. “There’s a plank of wood inside that serves as a seat. The tire’s probably full of rainwater right now.”
Catching the rope, he peers past the gray wooden seat into the hollow of the tire. “Stand back so you don’t get wet.”
I hop back a few steps as he tips it, releasing a muddy splash. Something falls out, and he bends down to grab it before I get a good look.
“What was that?”
“Junk.” He pockets whatever it was, then whips a clean rag from the front of his pack. “Let me wipe it down for you.”
His big hands make quick work of it, swiping the black rubber ridges and the soggy wooden seat. Gripping the rope, he turns with a lopsided smile. “All aboard.”
“Okay.” I can’t believe I’m doing this. It’s silly and strange and something my sister would do. “I just—climb through the hole?”
“I’ll hold it steady.”
“Okay.” I don’t know why I’m overcomplicating this. Millions of kids on millions of playgrounds have done this. “Should I just slide in from behind or—stop looking at me like that.”
He laughs. “I love when you talk dirty.”
“Shut up.” I don’t really want him to. “Okay, here goes.” I step around the tire, bracing a hand on the top. Kaleb holds the rope so the swing doesn’t sway.
“Nice and easy,” he says. “I’ve got you.”
“I know.” I hook one leg through, then the other. The rubber ridges cradle the plank, giving my butt a nice spot to land. The tire starts to sway, and I grab for the rope.
“Hug the tire,” Kaleb coaches. “That’s it. One arm on each side of the rope.”
“Okay, got it. I’m getting the hang of it.” I grin when I hear my own pun. “So to speak.”
“Smartass.” He releases the rope, letting me sway in the breeze. “Want a push?”
“Give me a sec to get used to it.” From up on this ridge, I see the whole shape of the lake. To the west beyond that, ocean waves lick the beach beneath Spencer’s Rock.
Bracing my heart, I let my eyes stray south. To the smooth snake of road hugging the shore. The whiplash curves of the Pacific Coast Scenic Byway. The bend in the road where I’m guessing Cape Obliot sits. I can’t see the lighthouse through the clouds beyond that, but it’s out there.
And while I don’t know exactly where Grace took her last breath, I feel it. It’s right where I’m looking.
“Okay.” I take a deep breath and look back at Kaleb. “Give me a push.”
He does as I ask, and I whoop with surprise, gripping the tire as I soar. I’m floating, flying, hair trailing behind me as I swoop over the ridge. “Oh my God!”
“Too much?” Kaleb’s watching as I rocket past.
“I’m good!” I swing forward again, kicking my legs out in front of me. I give another sharp whoop as I sail back.
His palms brush my back as he gives me another quick push. “You’re doing it.”
“Wooo!” My belly swoops and I laugh. “This is wild.”
“Wild good or wild bad?”
Another swoop through the breeze sets me laughing. “Wild good .” I can’t believe how free I feel. “Keep going!”
Kaleb laughs. “Told you.” He pushes again, adding some spin this time. “Hang on tight.”
The tree branch sways, sprinkling my shoulders with droplets. It’s cool on my skin, and I shout with surprise. “Again!”
Kaleb laughs. “Yes ma’am.” He pushes again, and I’m flying. Kicking my legs, I try to go higher, leave everything behind. I’ve never felt this free. “Oh my God, I love this.”
“Thought you might.”
I tip my head back, letting my hair skim the ground. On my next cycle back, Kaleb grins from above. “More?”
“Yes, please.”
I don’t know how long I soar like that. Time rushes toward me, then recedes. Each time I swing forward, my belly somersaults. The wind rolls its hands through my hair.
“I’m gonna stop you soon.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I don’t want you barfing.”
“Ew.” Now that he says it, my stomach feels funny. “That really happens?”
“Yep.” He grins as I tip my head back. “Growing up, we’d take turns spinning each other to see who could hold out the longest.”
“Who won?”
“Guess.”
“You?”
“Ha!” He catches the rope and carries me to a slow stop. “I’d tap out pretty fast. Didn’t have the stomach to go long.”
I give it some thought. “Lucy?”
“Left us crying in the dirt.” He sounds so proud. “You feel okay?”
“I feel amazing.” I wiggle my toes in my boots. “Kinda tingly all over.”
“Yeah?” A flicker of light fills his eyes. “That sounds…pleasant.”
“I feel way better than pleasant.” Heat rolls through my body. I don’t say it out loud, but I think it.
This feels a lot like arousal.
Kaleb must catch something in my voice. Or maybe he’s a mind reader. “You’re beautiful like this.”
“Like what?”
“All wind-blown and wild.”
My throat feels thick as I swallow. “You want a turn?”
“Nope.” His voice dips low. I glance up and see thick forearms flexing as he grips the tire. “That’s not what I want.”
Licking my lips, I slide one hand back to grip Kaleb’s thigh. As I glide my palm up, he utters a curse. “What do you want?” I tease.
My hand skims his cock, and he curses again. “I want you .”
It’s an awfully long hike back to his place. “Maybe there’s a shortcut.” My brain runs logistics as my body hums with need. “Can Uber pick us up at—hey!”
I yelp as he spins me around, turning the tire so I face him. With my back to the ridge, I find myself staring at the fly of his jeans.
He’s hard as a rock and I swallow again.
“Let me be clear,” he says roughly, and my eyes lift to his. “I want you now .”
I force myself to swallow. Not to stare at his cock. “Okay.”
Releasing the rope, Kaleb sinks to his knees. The tire starts to twist, but he catches my legs as I turn. “You’ve got great legs.” He shoulders his way between them. “You should wear leggings more often.”
“Thank you.” I shift as he unties my boots, not sure where he’s going with this. “They’re very warm.”
“Hmm.” Setting aside my right boot, he goes to work on the other one. “You’re about to get chilly, but I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
“What are you— oh .” He yanks off my leggings and tosses them over a rock. Before my nude butt touches down on the wood, he tucks his sweatshirt beneath me.
“Well.” I draw a shuddery breath. “Can’t say I’ve ever sat bare-assed on a tire swing before.”
He grins between my thighs. “There’s a first time for everything.” His lips claim a spot just above my left knee. “You up for a few more firsts?”
“I’ll give it a shot.” My voice sounds breathy and strange. There’s a fire burning deep in my belly, spreading fast through my limbs. He kisses his way up my thigh and I moan. “That tickles.”
“Can’t have that.” He kisses higher, then higher still.
It stops tickling.
“Oh my God.” I moan as his tongue dips inside me. “Kaleb.”
“Brooke.” He licks me again, parting my flesh on his way to my clit.
The tip of his tongue swirls that tight bud of nerves and I gasp. “Holy— oh! ”
Gripping the tire, I let my head fall back. My hair skims the dirt as he licks me again. I shudder and tighten my grip on the tire.
“Fuck,” I choke out. “So good.”
“You’re insanely hot.” He goes back for more, shoving my thighs apart. I open my legs, bare feet bumping his shoulders.
Whatever he’s doing with his mouth feels unreal. Tiny swirls with his tongue, followed by long, slow licks. It’s all I can do to hold on to the tire for dear life.
“Oh—oh, yes .” Two fingers slide slowly inside me, curling to graze something deep. I arch off the seat as my eyes flutter open. The tree branch sways as a cloud passes over the sun. “Don’t stop.”
“Brooke, Jesus.” His fingers move faster, thrusting in time with the flick of his tongue. “You taste so good.”
I shudder with pleasure as the pressure builds faster. “I’m close.”
“I know.” He quickens his tempo, tongue working magic. “I wish you could see yourself now.”
I try to laugh, but it sounds more like a moan. How did this happen so quick? “Kaleb.” The wind stirs my hair and I tip my breasts up toward the sky. “Want. You.” God, I can’t get the words out. “Inside.”
“Later.” He brushes my clit with his tongue. “Come for me, Brooke.”
Like I can on demand. Like I’ve ever just— “Oh my God.”
I go off like a geyser, screaming my release. Something shatters inside me as his fingertip curls and strokes. My thighs clench around him as I cry out again, riding his fingers and the world’s fiercest orgasm.
It takes me a while to come down. I’m in no hurry to slide off this pleasure-soaked cloud. Kaleb moves with me, adorning my thighs with a million soft kisses. Blinking back stars, I try to sit upright.
“Careful,” he says, cupping my backside. “Don’t get up too fast.”
“Get up?” Is he joking? “I plan to stay here forever.”
He laughs and gets to his feet, dark mud staining his knees. I wish I could feel bad about that, but I just feel…
“Bliss,” I murmur as he lets the swing go, letting me drift on the breeze. “This is what bliss feels like, huh?”
“Maybe.” He gives me a spin, letting me twirl as he dusts himself off. “Might get awkward when the crew shows up to work on Jake’s house.”
“Don’t care.” I laugh and lean back, letting the breeze catch my hair. I’ll put on my pants in a second. “I’m not kidding, Kaleb. This is the freest I’ve ever felt.”
He watches me swing with a smile. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
I laugh and demur, but the truth?
I feel beautiful. Not in some movie star way, but like I’ve swallowed a sunbeam. Warm light pools inside me, shooting up through my arms and the tips of my fingers. “I love this.”
I stop myself there, aware of how close I’ve come.
I love you.
It’s on the tip of my tongue, but that’s crazy. I can’t love Kaleb after just a few weeks. Not when we’ve sworn to stay casual.
He hands me my leggings and smiles. “Get dressed, tire swing trollop.”
“Ha!” I’ve never had a nickname like that. “I’ve forgotten how pants work.”
“Guess I can carry you.” He pretends to give that some thought. “Think other hikers will care if I march down the trail with a pantsless advice goddess slung over my shoulder?”
“Only if you drop me.”
We’re both playing it cool, but I notice the spark in his eyes. A gleam that says I’m not the only one moved.
“Guess I should get down.” With a hand from Kaleb, I extract myself from the tire swing. He helps me into my leggings and leads me to a rock where I retie my boots. Ribsy’s still sleeping in the grass by her shrub.
“To answer your earlier question,” he says, “the road pops out right down there by Jake’s property. Uber could pick us up there. Or Mason. He’s off today. If you really don’t feel like walking.”
“Yes, definitely.” I laugh as I lace my left boot. “Call your brother and say, ‘I made Brooke come so hard she can’t hike. Please rescue us.’”
One edge of his mouth twitches. “So that’s a no?”
“I can walk, Kaleb.” Stretching on tiptoe, I plant a kiss on his jaw. “My legs might be shaky, but they’ll get the job done.” Wrapping my arms around his waist, I hug him tight. As his chin rests on top of my head, I’m conscious of the bulge pressing into my belly.
Drawing back, I meet his eyes. “Turnabout’s fair play.”
“What’s that?”
With a wicked grin, I snatch Kaleb’s sweatshirt off the tire swing. Setting it on the ground, I sink to my knees while he watches.
“What are you doing?”
I reach for his fly and capture the button on his jeans. “What do you think?”
“Fuck.” He threads his fingers through my hair.
“Any objections?” Before he can answer, I tug down his zipper.
With a satisfied sigh, Kaleb answers. “Not a goddamn one.”