Chapter 9
I am so fucking screwed.
This woman irritates the shit out of me, but I also want to ensure she’s safe. Once she’s safe … well, I don’t quite know what I’ll do. Half of me thinks I’ll hold her and be so thankful, while the other half is thinking dirty thoughts.
Which is why I’m screwed.
I hate that I’m into her.
Groaning, I grab my phone from the cushion next to me, pulling up our text thread.
I’m at home in my four-bedroom apartment, only a few blocks from where we play, Front Range Field.
I honestly didn’t care where I got an apartment, and had a realtor find something for me.
I only said I wanted more than a two-bedroom, with mountain views, and good security.
The realtor managed to find me a great spot in a building where a lot of athletes live, with underground parking and top-notch security. I can’t complain.
It takes me a moment to find the words I want to send to Layla.
Me
I’m sorry.
Peaches
For what?
Me
Overstepping.
Peaches
Thank you.
Me
I just don’t want you to feel like you have to handle things alone.
Peaches
I’ve been handling things just fine, Max. I don’t need a guard dog.
Me
Like I said, baseball teams are families. While I understand you’d rather I not be a guard dog, I can still be a supportive person on the team. Some might even call me the f-word.
Peaches
My mind immediately jumped to ‘fucktard’ but I’m assuming you have another f-word in mind.
Me
I meant friend, but I guess fucktard can work too.
Peaches
It’s nice of you to say you’re my friend, but I think we can both agree that isn’t really the case.
Me
I didn’t say we’re friends.
Me
I said we CAN be friends.
Peaches
Technically, you said some people call you a friend.
Me
For fuck’s sake, Peaches. You get what I’m trying to say. Are you always this argumentative?
Peaches
Honestly? No. You just manage to bring out the best parts of me, Sunshine.
Chuckling, I turn off my phone and toss it aside. Leaning back, I stretch my arms out, reaching as far as I can. The sun is setting behind the Rocky Mountains, casting a beautiful ethereal glow across the entire Front Range. I really don’t like it here, but even I can admit it sure is beautiful.
I’d hoped to enjoy the outside more when I moved here.
Maybe it was only because when I arrived, I was too busy trying to get settled, and then the weather turned to shit.
Winter was long and disgustingly cold, so I stayed inside as much as possible.
I was all too thrilled to travel to Phoenix for Spring Training, because at least I could thaw out a little.
But now, as the days are getting marginally warmer, I’m feeling an itch to get outside more.
I’m mostly acclimated to the altitude, and I think I can finally take on some of the hiking trails within an hour of Denver.
I decide to wake up early and head out, since we have an actual day off.
The following morning, after packing up a backpack full of water and snacks, I head out to Golden Gate Canyon State Park. I wanted a park that was a good distance away from Denver so I don’t run the risk of peopling too much. A good hike will help to clear my head, which I desperately need.
About an hour later, I’m standing next to my car in a dirt parking lot by the Mule Deer Trail, a loop of around nine miles.
I take a deep breath of fresh mountain air, exhaling slowly, and I feel the stress begin to melt away.
Damn, I’ve needed this. I’ve needed some time to be outdoors, centering myself, and ignoring all the chaos I left behind in Denver.
But it seems the chaos has followed me.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I hear shouted. Turning, I find a furious Layla. “Asshole, did you follow me here? What the hell, Max? Do I need to report you to HR?”
My eyes shift around to find multiple people watching us. Striding to where Layla stands beside her car, hands on her hips in complete frustration, I grab her elbow, steering her in between two cars. “Wanna raise your voice, Peaches? I don’t think my teammates in Denver heard you.”
“Well, what do you expect me to do? This is unbelievable. You have a major issue with boundaries.”
I roll my eyes. “Layla, I don’t know where you live.
And if I didn’t use a GPS, I wouldn’t know where this place was either.
I don’t know my way around Denver well enough to stalk anyone.
But trust me, if I wanted to stalk you, I’d do it closer to home.
Driving an hour into the mountains to follow a girl isn’t my idea of a fun time. ”
Gaze still unsure, Layla’s posture relaxes. “You can’t fault me for being concerned. Tons of trails here, so why did you pick this one?”
I shrug. “Google said it was a good trail, and I wanted a long one that wasn’t too tough. I think I’ve acclimated to the altitude, but I don’t want to find out the hard way if I have to call someone to be rescued.”
Her lips twitch as she struggles to smile. “No one warned me about the altitude when I moved here. I thought I was going insane.”
“You had trouble?” I tease. “I guess protein can’t solve everything.”
“Har-har,” she retorts, but her words lack the snappiness they usually have. “I bet I have better snacks in my backpack than you do.”
“Alright, I’ll take that bet. Whatcha got?” I ask.
Layla pulls off her backpack, settling it on the hood of her car. “I have multiple bottles of water, some packets of electrolyte powder, dried fruit, beef jerky, and nut butter pouches.”
I hum noncommittally as I open my backpack. I watch out of the corner of my eye as Layla’s mouth drops open. “Trail mix, apple butter with pretzel sticks, hard-boiled eggs with mustard pouches, beef jerky, protein bars, and a turkey sandwich. Oh, and three bottles of water, and electrolyte powder.”
She stares at me in shock. “Who are you, and what did you do with Max?”
I smile broadly. “I won, didn’t I?”
“I guess you did. I’ll admit, I’m impressed.” She peers into my bag again. “Did you hard-boil the eggs yourself?”
I stare at her, deadpan. “I’m not completely inept in the kitchen.”
Layla cocks an eyebrow at me. “You didn’t answer the question.”
I sigh, then scratch the back of my neck sheepishly. “Uh, no. I didn’t. Bought them already hard-boiled at the store.”
Layla lets out a loud bark of laughter. “Well, I appreciate the honesty.”
“I’m not a good liar,” I admit with a snort. Then I remember that Layla doesn’t know I’m the man she met in Chicago, and my humor dries up. “Enjoy your hike.”
“Oh,” she replies, a puzzled expression on her beautiful face.
She has her blonde hair pulled up into a messy bun, tucked into the back of a Raptors baseball hat.
A Raptors sweatshirt covers her thin frame, with leggings and hiking boots on her feet.
She looks adorable, sexy, and sensational all at once.
I start off on the Mule Deer Trail, popping in my earbuds to try and dull the nagging voice in my head that’s telling me to walk with Layla.
My goal is to complete the eight-point-eight-mile loop in under three hours, and I figure that at some point, Layla will lag behind.
I figure I’ll hang in the trail parking lot until I see her make it to her car, just to ensure nothing happens to her, but I want to be far enough in front of her that I’m not tempted to do something irresponsible …
like drag her deeper into the forest and fuck her against a tree.
I have a feeling Human Resources would be disappointed in that behavior.
At the one-hour mark, I receive an alert of a text message. Message from Peaches: Max, I fell and I think I sprained my ankle. I don’t know if this text will go through because my phone calls aren’t going through. I hope you get this.
“Shit,” I growl, turning back and sprinting down the trail.
I find Layla about a half mile behind me, precariously sitting on the edge of the trail, holding her ankle.
I drop beside her, gently taking hold of her foot.
“I’m so sorry, Peaches. Did you try to call me?
I only got the text, and I came right back. ”
“No,” she says quietly. Layla looks forlorn, lost, and utterly miserable. “I tried to call a friend first.”
As I begin carefully untying her shoelace, I keep my voice light and even. “Oh? Were you meeting someone here?”
“No, but a friend lives close by. That’s how I know about this trail. We’ve come here before, and it’s one of my favorites for the views of the Continental Divide.” Her voice trembles as she swipes at her cheeks. “Now I’m pissed I won’t get any good pictures because I didn’t even make it that far.”
“I guess it’s a good thing we can come back to make it all the way to the end, then,” I tell her.
She scoffs. “We?”
“Yeah, we,” I tease. “Clearly, you can’t be trusted by yourself out here. Someone needs to make sure you survive. How will I go through life without you there to harass me about a healthy diet?”
“Jackass,” she mutters, but I see a glimmer in her eyes. A little piece of the Layla I know is still there. After slowly pulling her hiking boot off, I remove her sock. Studying her foot, I push lightly in a few spots, and Layla doesn’t make a sound.
“How does it feel now?” I ask, keeping one hand on her ankle, while the other cups her calf. Her skin is so smooth and soft.
“It feels okay, I guess? It’s not hurting, but it doesn’t feel great either. I don’t know if that helps anything.”
“If you’d sprained it, it would start to swell pretty quickly, and it would be tender to the touch. Do you want to try to put some weight on it? That can tell us a lot about how emergent the injury is.”
When Layla nods, I help her to her feet. Putting an arm around her waist, I encourage her to put weight on her injured foot. “It aches a little, but doesn’t hurt too much. I guess it isn’t sprained then.”