Chapter 8 #2
Forcing my sweetest smile, I keep my eyes fixed on Jack and step closer to kick the side of the tarp, sending it wafting into the air.
With the confidence of a magician executing a pre-planned trick, I reach up and catch the tarp, just before the darn thing drops a cloud of dust into my eyes.
Jack watches me sputter and blink away the grit as I attempt to refold it, but I catch the tiniest hint of a smile on one side of his mouth, despite my temporary partial blindness.
Yup. I’m going to enjoy having him around.
I silently return to the path, Jack following close behind.
“So you’re undercover today?”
“What were you taking pictures of earlier?” he probes, ignoring my question. He does that often. I’ll have to address that once we’re officially friends.
“I’ll take that as a yes. And I was getting a photo of my backpack.” All my effort is going into talking without sounding like I’ve just birthed a baby, even though I’m pretty sure we haven’t even walked four miles.
Jack is silent, lips pursed in thought, so I take it as permission to speak. “So if you’re undercover, that would mean you’re investigating something…”
I come to a sharp stop, gripping the rock wall beside me so Marigold doesn’t send me toppling over as I twist around, and Jack barely avoids crashing into me.
“Wait…” My head rears back, brows dipping. “You’re following me? Like, I’m your stakeout assignment?”
The idea that this man legitimately suspects nefarious activity on my part is so laughable, so outrageous, yet I’m stunned silent. Little old me?
“You can’t be serious,” I scoff when he doesn’t reply right away, my anger rising. This trip was for proving I can finish something, and maybe processing some childhood trauma, but certainly not for convincing a stupidly handsome man that I’m not a criminal.
“And what exactly do you suspect I’ve committed, Jacques?”
“Jack,” he corrects, his jaw pulsing. It bugs him when I do that. Good.
But my nostrils flare as I try to stifle a giggle. I can’t even stay mad at him.
“Look, either tell me what I’m being accused of, or let me be on my way. Make a definitive statement.”
Is it bad that I hope he does the former? I’m not ready to part ways. And I haven’t committed a crime, so there’s no real harm, right? I can work through my trauma and get through this hike successfully with Jack by my side.
“We should carry on.” His finger does a twirl, gesturing for me to pivot and resume hiking.
My eyes narrow before I give in, but only because I still need to pee and there’s another restroom coming up.
“You have a girlfriend, Jackson?”
“What made you decide to do this hike?”
“So you get to ask questions, but I don’t?” I snort. “Answer mine first, Detective.”
His sigh drifts over the scuffle of our feet on the path. What caused the heaviness he walks around with? There’s something hidden beneath all that gruffness, and I want to find the best, prettiest shovel and dig it out.
He doesn’t answer this time, either. And as much as I wanted a quiet, solo adventure, the silence kind of gets to me.
My brain is used to busyness, since I fill my time and head with little projects and social media content, as well as the occasional half-hearted attempts to complete my assignments for my sports journalism major.
I trail my fingers along the inside of the canyon wall, its ridges anchoring me as we continue walking. A film of red dust accumulates over our shoes, and I begin humming a tune, subconsciously filling the stillness.
“This is the tip-off.”
Jack’s voice startles me, rough and gritty as he announces our location like a spokesperson for the canyon. It’s also the first time he’s volunteered information, even though it’s only five words.
I follow him to the cliff’s edge, gasping at my first sight of the river. Majestic and bold, its emerald veins snake proudly from its body. Everyone comes here to marvel at a giant hole, but it’s the mighty Colorado River responsible for carving it.
Jack and I stand shoulder-to-shoulder, a warm breeze sending wisps of my sweaty hair fanning out as I continue humming and taking in the view.
I manage to pull my eyes away from the captivating scene long enough to sneak a peek at the broody man beside me.
I like seeing the look of awe that isn’t jaded by his time working here.
“Are you humming ‘Smelly Cat’?” he asks gruffly.
“I think the bigger surprise is that you know about ‘Smelly Cat’.”
He grunts. “I wasn’t born in a barn.”
“Barndominiums are very in right now. Nobody would think poorly of you.”
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he announces, and I swallow hard.
“And I’m not a criminal,” I add quietly.
The breathtaking view is forgotten, and we’ve somehow turned to face each other instead, leaving only inches between us.
“That has yet to be determined,” he says.
From this view, standing so close, I have to crane my neck all the way back just to make eye contact.
“What is this big crime you think I’m involved in, anyway, hmm?” I ask, making air quotes with my fingers.
I shouldn’t be enjoying this so much.
The faintest hint of his deodorant lingers on his clothes, and I take a deep inhale, solidifying the fact that I want to roll around in it.
“Some things have gone missing from an archeological site. Very valuable things.” His stare bounces between my eyes.
The muscle in his jaw is working overtime.
“Your behavior has been suspect since I met you. I’ll confirm it later, but you can make things easier by telling me your connection to Chad. ”
“We were in the circus together, but I left when his jealousy over my trapeze skills became too much.”
“Willow.” He frowns, his voice sounding deeper, tinged with urgency. It’s also the first time he’s said my name, and it does something to me. But the visceral effect doesn’t last long, and my mouth falls open, ready to defend myself at his insistence that I’m here with ulterior motives.
“I came here to prove to my parents that I’m not a complete failure, okay?
That I can finish something, for once in my life.
Because, for whatever damned reason, this particular hike means so much to them.
” Some of the hurt I’ve ignored leaks into my voice, coming out with a wobbly desperation I’m not ready to acknowledge.
“Whatever you think I’m involved in, whatever connection you think you’ve found, it’s completely circumstantial.
You can tail my every move, and you’ll see I have nothing to hide. ”
Seconds go by as he studies me, like he’s fitting my confession into his mental file of clues. Then he nods, and I think he may finally believe me. But his next words crush that thought.
“Maybe I will.”
I can’t say I’m disappointed that he’ll be sticking close. It would have been better if his motives were less arrest-y and more how you doin’, but I’ll take what I can get till he realizes how adorably innocent I am.
I’m a fairly confident person. There aren’t many situations I can’t talk myself out of.
But it’s been a while since I’ve interacted with someone I’m this attracted to.
There’s a whole lot of faking it happening.
The truth is, Jack makes me nervous, which is why I’ve been standing with my knees locked this entire time.
It’s completely subconscious, but we’ve all seen the videos of grooms passing out.
I’m still staring into Jack’s cool, grey eyes when a wave of lightheadedness overtakes me, causing me to stumble backward.
Jack’s reflexes deserve an honorable mention if not a gold medal. His hand shoots out to grasp me, pulling me close, supporting my weight, and saving me from stumbling toward the cliff’s edge.
“You okay?” He bends, trying to catch my gaze, but I’m still slumped against his chest. This is the third time I’ve found myself here. The universe must be sending a message that I belong in this spot.
I almost chuckle at the completely absurd but enticing thought. Emily is right, and I may have a reputation as being a serial dater, but none of the guys my parents pushed toward me have ever made me feel like this.
“Yup.” I shake my head. “I just locked my knees. I’m good.”
Note to self: take an iron tablet tonight.
Jack’s large body is still curled protectively around mine, and I peer over my shoulder at the canyon I nearly sacrificed myself to. A shaky breath follows a hard swallow.
“That…that could have been a lot worse,” I rasp and force out a laugh.
His hands move, every inch of his palms making very intentional contact as they slide away, unsure about letting go.
He steps back, his whole body suddenly rigid.
The man looks like he’s been dumped with a bucket of ice.
He pulls off his hat, revealing that Superman curl while his other hand flexes, fingers spread wide before forming a fist. He catches my frown, forcing his hand to relax.
“Are you injured?” I question.
“No.” He clears his throat, replacing the hat again. “I just don’t like being touched.”
He’s a bear with a thorn in his paw, and I want to hug him. Except this one has an aversion to hugs. And all I’ve done is smush myself against him in every interaction we’ve had.
“I’m sorry,” I say as my brows pull in together.
“We should keep going.” He turns, heading back to the path.