Chapter 3
[Kali]
He’s so beautiful.
Up close, I had a better view of the tattoos on his left arm and that mustache over his lip.
I’m not even a mustache fan, really, but thanks to a few current country musicians, the ’stache is back in style.
Add in the Montana cowboy stereotype and my libido is saying giddy up, girl after being put out to pasture for so long.
But any chance of attraction to Booster was trampled when he mentioned Sorcha.
I’d seen the girl on Connor’s Instagram before I unfollowed and blocked his account.
Long flowing red hair in perfect curls with bright eyes and a splash of freckles on her face made her look young.
At least younger than me. Connor’s attraction was understandable.
For that fact, Booster’s was as well. She looks lovely.
Still, it hurts. The way I’d learned about Connor and her relationship. The fact he hadn’t told me.
“You’re so beautiful,” the video sent to me captured his voice as he spoke seductively to someone else, his hand placed on the back of her chair as he twirled her hair around his finger.
I want to throw up just remembering it, and this little vacation is re-triggering feelings that had finally gone dormant.
And poor Booster.
However, he doesn’t look as hurt as I felt.
I don’t want to believe Booster has been unaffected by his breakup.
Love her or not, breaking up is hard to do, especially when your stepbrother steals your girl.
But I don’t know much about the elusive stepbrother who played professional baseball for various teams.
All I know is he is mouthwatering to look at, and I feel like a toad compared to him.
“Wear the suit.” Loads of female empowerment reels encourage women just like me. Women later in life. Women exhausted and experienced. Women who had children or demanding careers, or both. Women whose bodies bore the brunt of one of the greatest miracles and decades of silent heartbreak.
Fucking Connor. It was becoming a theme here.
When Booster first mentioned Sorcha, on went the beach dress, covering up the softness of my belly and the swell of my ample breasts. No more cute suit. Mentally comparing myself to the younger girl, I didn’t want Booster looking at me, not that he was, but still . . . conflicting thoughts arose.
My appearance should only matter to me.
My appearance shouldn’t matter, because he wasn’t looking.
But if he had caught a glimpse, I didn’t want him judging me. My shape. My form. Especially after he explained his relationship with Sorcha.
Eventually, I pulled the dress over my thighs, hoping to hide the thickness and stretch marks.
“Embrace your curves.” Easier said than done for some women, especially when a hot man is talking about a beauty queen that both he and his stepbrother have slept with. A woman who definitely is not shaped like me. Or near my age.
And yet, here I sit cataloging him. Thick thighs. Legs for miles. Broad chest. That mustache. Those dark eyes. And the tattoos.
He’s everything I’d never go for in a man. Every inch of him is opposite Connor. And I know this because I’ve unexpectedly seen Booster’s dick.
For the record, he’s definitely bigger than my ex.
On that note, I need to end the bash-Connor theme happening here and start embracing the go-me vibe I want instead.
I need to find a ride to Glacier National Park, or at least a tour bus that can take me there.
I’ve researched the official park tour cars.
The red, open-top minibuses that drive people through the park, but I still need to get to their location.
Reaching for my phone, I scroll through trip advice boards for a solution, dismissing the sharp splash of someone breaking the lake’s surface and the sudden shift in the floating dock as he presses up onto it. His feet slap on the weatherproof boards as he approaches me.
“All this beauty and you’re on your phone,” he quips.
I glance up at him, blinded by the sun behind him, haloing his head like he’s Adonis.
That dark hair of his glistens from drops of water on the slicked-back length.
His chest glimmers as well from the wetness mingled in his chest hair.
My fingers twitch, wanting to explore the coarse curls and trace the triangular pattern.
His nipples are even erect from the cold lake, and my tongue tingles with desire to lick over the short, sharp nubs.
How would that mustache feel between my thighs?
Quickly hanging my head, I stare at my phone. “I’m looking for a tour bus or something that can drive me to the park tomorrow.”
Booster gracefully tosses himself down beside me, resuming his previous position of outstretched legs, crossed at his ankles, and strong arms bracing his upper body upright.
Even his feet are sexy, dammit.
“You probably won’t find one of those out here.” He speaks confidently, like there isn’t any probably about it.
Still, I keep scrolling, keep searching, until he says, “Ever been to Glacier before?”
“I’ve never even been to Montana.” Assuming he knows a little something about my history with Connor, he’d be correct to surmise I’m a city girl. “But this land is so beautiful, and I don’t want to miss it.”
I glance up once more at the ripple of sunshine over the water and the dull-green mountains opposite our position.
Autumn is on its way, but summer is holding on with her last breath. The thought feels both poetic and prophetic. The autumn of my life is breezing over my summer years.
“I want to see as much as I can,” I add. I’m so close to the national park it would be a waste not to try to get there.
Booster is silent for another minute. His lips twitch, causing his mustache to shift like he’s deep in thought. Or an evil villain.
I doubt the second option. He might have come on a bit strong yesterday, but now that I know his opinion of Connor, his history with him, I understand. And I’m grateful he’s letting me stay the week.
“I can drive you,” he finally blurts.
“What?” My head snaps upright, and I stare at him over my shoulder, warning myself not to get overly excited by the offer.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve been there . . . and we’d need to leave early in the morning in order to skip the entrance pass fee.” He flips his wrist, glancing at a military-style watch that he wore into the water. “It’s also nice to see the sunrise at Logan Pass.”
I have no idea where that is or what it is, but I’m all in. “I’ll pay for gas.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He pauses another second, squinting out at the lake, and loosely tucks his knees toward his chest.
I want to ask why he’d do this for me. Maybe he feels sorry for me. Our histories have crossed without even knowing it.
Fucking Connor.
Then again, I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Or at a mustached man with lush lips, either.
“We should probably bring a lunch, so I’ll get to a grocery store for sandwiches and things,” he says, like he’s suddenly deep in the throes of planning our day.
“I could make us peanut butter sandwiches,” I offer, reminding myself of the strange contents of my luggage. Peanut butter is my guilty pleasure food, and a jar came with me. I ordered additional groceries when I arrived here.
Booster nods. A slow smile curls his lips and lifts the corner of his mustache. “I haven’t had a peanut butter sandwich since I was a kid. Better make me two. But I’ll still grab us things like chips and drinks at the store.”
He slowly climbs to his feet and swipes a hand over his backside which is covered in wet swim trucks. His ass would make most baseball players envious.
“My treat,” he mutters, while treat sounds like the last thing he wants to do.
However, I don’t think this is a trick.
I’ve found a ride to Glacier National Park, complete with a picnic lunch and a hot chauffeur.
Sitting in the close quarters of Booster’s truck, in the early hours of the morning, when the sky is still dark, was more difficult than I thought it would be.
First, there’s something seductive about the slow slip of dawn surrounding us and the quietness of the road, like we’re the only two people that exist.
Second, the sharp manly scent coming off him lingers in this tight space. Something pine-sharp and fresh-air and deeply intoxicating.
I squirm more than once in my seat, and whether that’s excitement about our day or the dizzying silence of my driver is yet to be determined.
Wearing layers was recommended, as the morning is cool while the later hours will be warm. Still, a hot flash or something similar is kicking in from being in this enclosed space with a virtual stranger who smells like Christmas and looks like a perfect package.
While I am typically good at starting conversations, I don’t have much to say this early in the morning. My thoughts ping-ponged between Connor and Booster all night, and I didn’t sleep well. It’s becoming the norm.
When Booster knocked on my door at five-thirty, I was already up and had coffee in two travel mugs, only to discover he had two travel mugs as well.
“I didn’t know how you took yours, so this is just black.” He offered me a mug.
I chuckled and held up the drinks I’d prepared. “I like mine heavy on the sugar with a strong splash of milk. I made this one black for you, just in case.”
He nodded, setting down the cup he’d made me, and suggesting I leave behind the cup I’d made him.
His kindness once again surprised me, which was almost pathetic to consider. I’ve been so used to putting others first, I don’t know how to respond to acts of kindness toward me.
As we near the steeper mountains, our surroundings are difficult to discern, other than the density of trees, and the dim outline of the peaks as the sun starts to rise.
We fall in line with other early visitors and slowly climb the initial peak in a parade of headlights and brake lights.
When we finally reach the official parking lot, we momentarily compete for a spot.
Once parked, the sun has risen even higher, and I am nearly giddy.
Booster leads the way, and we cross from gravel paths to paved ones and eventually newly built timber stairs before emerging on gravel again.
To my surprise, he’s patient.
He walks at my pace. He allows me to stop and take photographs, even taking a few for himself. We talk minimally about the location, with him giving me a history and geography lesson.
Logan Pass has two stops. The official overlook of Hidden Lake and the actual hike down a steep path to the lake itself. The total trip is five miles, and I’ve assured Booster I’m up for the challenge.
Nothing prepares me for my first glimpse of a giant peak reflected in crystal clear water. With the rising sun behind us, a shadow dances on the opposite mountain. A photograph hardly captures the splendor.
Once again, I marvel at Booster’s patience. He doesn’t complain about my speed, or lack thereof, nor my need to stop and take a photo. He doesn’t rush me or stall me. It’s rather refreshing.
When I admit I need a bathroom break, he stands guard while I stumble down a dry riverbed and tuck behind heavenly-scented pine trees, hoping I don’t encounter a curious bear.
Finally, we reach the actual lake where a mist hovers over the inviting water that practically begs: Come in for a dip.
The entire experience is magical.
For one powerful moment, I wish I had someone to share it with.
Then I look at Booster. His face reflects my awe. His posture relaxed, like he needed this moment as much as I did.
The urge to kiss him overwhelms me. The desire feels strange, as if something physical will punctuate this moment. Remind me I am real, and he is here, even if our surroundings feel almost fictional.
Neither of us speaks as we continue to take in the moment, each with our own thoughts, mine calm while conflicting.
At the very least, I feel like I should give Booster a hug. Just a celebratory, appreciative action to show him how much I value this moment. And him . . . because he is the one sharing it with me.
Instead, I keep my hugs to myself.
We walk along the lake until someone mentions bear tracks, and Booster suggests we start the ascent back up the mountain. The idea of an uphill climb feels doubly daunting compared to the hike down to the lake.
As a woman who loves rocks and moments, like Jane Austen, we take breaks on the steep crawl up the mountain. When we near a rather large, brown-red boulder, I ask Booster if he’ll take a picture of me for me to commemorate this experience.
A flash of time that says I was here.
With my back to him, I breathe in, breathe out.
Then I cut the silence between these mountains with a scream.