9. Chapter 9
Chapter nine
Lucy
T he mountain man from The Rooftop Tavern was her guide.
The idea of spending two nights alone in the woods with that hunk of flannelled perfection should have made Lucy jump for joy. Unfortunately, the verbal spat they shared a minute ago, plus her clumsy near destruction of his business’s lobby, hadn’t quite set the right tone for a potential woodland romp. And that was A-okay with her since the last thing she wanted was to get mixed up with another guy anytime soon.
After throwing their packs in the back of Jonathan’s old Subaru Forester, Lucy climbed into the passenger seat, and the two left for the trailhead. She buzzed from head to toe with anticipation as she scanned the tall trees and mountain ridges that surrounded the town, soaking it all in. A few clouds crept in on the blue-bird morning that initially greeted her, but that was fine. After years of remaining holed up in Seattle, she was finally on her way to soak in the splendor of the great outdoors. Rain or shine, she wouldn’t let anything—or anyone—tarnish her excitement.
Forget tarnish; fifteen minutes ago, it was almost decimated completely.
You springing this on me is unacceptable.
Fortunately, convincing Grumpy-Guide Jonathan had been easier than she’d expected, and she smugly puffed up her chest at Lucy 2.0’s persuasive abilities. Instead of slinking away with a two-thousand-dollar refund, preparing to wallow in another burger at The Rooftop, she was sitting in his car on their way out of town, holding a comically mammoth powdered donut that he’d dropped into her hands once she buckled her seatbelt. The image of white powder smeared all over her face (and possibly in her hair) kept her from digging into one of her favorite baked goods. Not that she was a slob; there were just some foods that couldn’t be eaten in a cute way. Chicken wings, BBQ ribs, and this donut hit the top of the list. It was a disaster just waiting to happen.
Lucy glanced carefully over at the grouch in the driver’s seat. He’d polished off his apple fritter in under a minute and washed it down with a few swigs of coffee. Left hand on the steering wheel and the other casually holding the paper cup, Jonathan was the picture of outdoorsy masculinity. His freshly washed dark blond hair was brushed, but without the kind of gel or pomade Brodan used. Lucy estimated that he hadn’t shaved in about two days. And it was just the right amount of stubble. By how well it fit, the blue and black flannel he wore with sleeves rolled up to his elbows could have been tailored for him. His gray puffer vest, clearly a favorite by the looks of its subtle wear, was positively huggable. Tan hiking pants with cargo pockets on each side and high-topped Merrell boots completed the outfit. Except, men like Brodan selected “outfits.” Men like Lucy’s hiking companion just wore clothes—coordination and matching be damned.
She scanned back up, hesitating on his face and lingering on his full lips. The lower one looked extra inviting until he pursed it together with the top lip and knowingly cleared his throat.
Busted.
“Not a donut fan?” Jonathan asked, the side of his mouth ticking downward in an irritated frown.
Lucy whimpered quietly when she realized the powder mixed with her clammy hands had created a mess all over her fingers and palms.
Ugh. Great.
“No, I do . . .” She bit her lip, trying to come up with an explanation that didn’t paint her as someone who eats like a sloppy toddler. “I ate a big breakfast. Not really hungry.”
“I’ll take care of that for you.” To Lucy’s relief, Jonathan plucked the treat from her hand and devoured it in three big bites. The only remnants were a few crumbs clinging to that bottom lip of his and the saccharine paste coating her hands. She touched a couple of fingers together and shuddered at the sticky texture. Now what? As if sent from the heavens above, a packet of wet wipes landed on her lap.
“You read my mind,” she said with relief, pulling open the seal.
“I envisioned slimy white handprints all over Betty and figured I’d get ahead of that train wreck.” He gave a loving pat to the dashboard.
Betty. Cute.
Lucy gently pulled a wipe out and worked to clean the residue off her hands. Pulling out a second, she said, “I like your car. My dad would approve. He says if you don’t have a Subaru, you’re doing something wrong.” With a chuckle, she thought about her dad shamelessly badgering her to trade in her car. And every time, she’d explain that smaller was better in the city, especially when it came to finding street parking. Since Brodan had insisted on parking his BMW in their one and only garage space, Lucy had been left with little choice. Parking would continue to be challenging once she moved into the new Green Lake apartment she’d signed a lease on the week before. There wasn’t a dedicated garage, so street spots remained her only option. “I told him my little Kia Rio was all I needed.” Hands now as clean as they were going to get, she opened her water bottle to take a swig.
“Ah, so that clown car in the overnight lot was yours, huh?” Jonathan heckled.
“Clown car?!” She choked on a mouthful of water. “I’ll have you know that ‘clown car’ gets pretty great gas mileage, buster.”
“Yeah, but Subarus last forever if you take care of them. I’ve had this old girl for twelve years. My girlfriend surprised me with her when we graduated. I plan on making her last for at least another ten to fifteen.”
“Did the girlfriend stick around as long as the car?” Lucy quipped in an attempt to hide a sudden pang of jealousy. “Hopefully she was as reliable as old Betty here,”
Jonathan’s smile vanished as he cleared his throat and adjusted the rearview mirror.
Whoops. Hit a sore spot. Way to go, Lucy.
Clearly, things had ended badly, and Lucy would bet it was semi-recently too. That would be the best explanation for his enhanced glower. “Sorry. I made things uncomfortable, didn’t I?”
“No. It’s ok.” He cleared his throat again. “I married her.”
Of course he’s married.
Why wouldn’t he be? Handsome. Mid-thirties-ish. Owns his own business. He probably checked a lot of boxes for a lot of women. To be honest, he checked a lot of boxes for Lucy too. The only problem was that she had only been single for a month and still needed to take some time to decide who the new and improved Lucy was going to be. Adventurous. Check. Won’t take no for an answer. Double check. It was progress, sure, but she was still in the beta testing phase. No way was she ready to take Lucy 2.0 out for a spin romantically quite yet.
I wouldn’t mind taking him out for a spin, just for a little joyride .
A twinge of shame rippled through Lucy’s stomach as she reminded herself that he was unequivocally unavailable. Naughty musings about this guy—who smelled like cedar, and fabric softener, and the slightest whiff of bug spray—weren’t appropriate. In fact, they were downright rude. His poor wife had to know what a dish he was, and she probably wouldn’t appreciate horny vacationers picturing him naked.
“Oh, that’s cool,” she said all too casually, desperate to convince Jonathan and herself how not disappointing she was about him being married. “I’m betting you don’t guide solo trips because she gets jealous. Well, no worries here, buster. I never go after another woman’s man. I promise to keep my sticky hands off.” The awkward attempt at humor felt sour in her mouth.
“She’s no longer in my life,” he stated forcefully in a way that declared the topic closed for discussion. And Lucy was all too happy to leave it behind.
They sat in silence for a while. Lucy wasn’t quite sure how to proceed. Here she was, headed to a wooded oasis to hike her cares away, and all she could think about was how weird she was acting around this guy. This incredibly attractive, single guy. He made a living off his familiarity with the region’s natural wonders. Someone couldn’t successfully run that kind of business if they didn’t love being outdoors.
Brodan, on the other hand, hated the outdoors. The closest he came to experiencing the beauty of nature was going to an IMAX movie about the rainforest. In the middle of which he fell asleep. They went to Mexico early in their relationship, but he’d stayed behind while Lucy visited a local cenote. How could anyone willingly pass on exploring an underground cave and snorkeling with a rainbow of fish? Brodan was more interested in getting a tan by the pool and taking advantage of the all-inclusive bar access. She wasn’t judging. She just wished he’d been a bit more open to hiking and exploring. Honestly, she would have settled for regular strolls through the park by the end of things.
Back home in Seattle, Mount Rainier and the Olympics were visible from various vantage points in the city. Lucy would look off into the distance and acknowledge just how close she was to the wild beauty. The snow-capped peaks seemed to beckon to her, begging her to meander the winding trails. She would imagine the array of vibrant wildflowers and scurrying wildlife, practically feeling the sun tickling across her shoulders and neck as she explored. But each hiking season came and went like a giant missed opportunity. And at the end of each autumn, Lucy would look to the mountains and vow to make it out on a trail the following year.
Eventually, she stopped looking. Because who was she kidding?
But then, a month ago, everything changed. And with each passing day, Lucy realized that she was happier than the day before. She was getting reacquainted with herself, rediscovering things she’d once loved but that had fallen to the wayside over the years. Turning thirty and getting dumped by Brodan had opened the door to so many possibilities. Cliché or not, she was genuinely finding herself and loving every minute of it.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
“Oh. I uh . . .” She glanced at the clock and realized she had spaced out for a solid twenty minutes. Lucy grasped for a topic other than the ones she had just been rolling around her mind. “What hike are we doing?”
“Mount Stuart,” Jonathan said, offering no more information than that.
“Wait. Mount Stuart? I signed up for the moderate hike. Isn’t that one in the ‘hard’ category?”
“You specifically signed up for Mount Stuart. I reviewed the paperwork last night. It would have been confirmed in an email about a month ago. I know this because Janet sends out confirmation reminders for upcoming trips.” His frustration was palpable. It made Lucy squirm with discomfort.
“I must not have looked at it very closely.” Lucy wracked her brain but couldn’t recall even a flicker of a memory of that specific email from Off the Beaten. Maybe it had been right after the breakup and she’d overlooked it in her distracted state.
“Well, you must have confirmed or Janet would have given you a call. She’s very meticulous and wouldn’t have skipped that step,” he stated, defensiveness for the older woman coming across loud and clear.
“I’m sure you’re right.” She assured herself the concession wasn’t her being a doormat. She just didn’t want him to change his mind and turn back around. Best to go with it. “What’s this trail like?”
His expression remained flat, but Lucy swore she detected a glimmer in his eye. “Mount Stuart’s a good one. It’s a challenging but beautiful spot. I hike it multiple times per year because it’s popular with our customers. There are cliffs, lots of wildlife, and an incredible view from the summit. And the snow just melted, so the wildflowers are everywhere.”
“Ok. Cool.” Excitement tingled along Lucy’s neck and down her spine. He was saying all the right things: cliffs, views, wildflowers. But in the corner of her mind, nervousness nagged at her, overshadowing her enthusiasm. Lucy was out of practice and didn’t really know what she was capable of anymore.
Suspicion dripped off every word as Jonathan asked, “Are you going to be all right with this hike? If you think it’s too much, we can head back to the office and I’ll issue you that refund.”
“No!” she blurted, nearly startling herself with the firmness and volume. Tell him, girl. “I came to hike, and that’s what I’m going to do. I only hope you can keep up.” She crossed her arms and shot a sly smirk at her guide.
Jonathan gave a derisive snort. “All right, John Muir, I’ll do my best.”