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“Yeah,” Lauren replies. “The day.”
“You can’t work through it?” I ask gently, hoping I don’t sound like I’m begging.
“No, she should rest it. We’ll ice it,” Caleb replies. “Trust me, it’ll be boring sitting around icing an ankle.”
Boring is fine. Boring is far better than having to face this strange connection I’m starting to feel with Aubrey. I want her hands on me again. I’m hungry for her care and compassion. And it’s a dangerous, twisted thing to realize.
A silent conversation seems to pass between the women. Lauren and Aubrey exchange expressions that makes me wonder what they’re not saying but attempting to communicate in a weird transaction of nonverbal cues.
Wait, is she trying to get out of this even more than I am? Somehow, that turns the tables. Now I want to do this, because even though the timing is crappy, I have a chance to talk to her. I’d rather not approach her with an apology for being an ass after she was so sweet to want to take care of me last night. It makes me feel like I owe her or something, and that’s a sensation I hate to experience with anyone.
I loathe people who see me as a pawn, as a person to use for something else.
Still, I’m willing to do this. If I don’t, I’ll have to admit to myself that she really does intimidate me.
“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll hike.”
Aubrey purses her lips as she glances at me. Then she shrugs. “Fine.”
I set my hands on my hips, knowing we haven’t agreed to a truce. I’m not sure what we’ve agreed to. We are partnering up to hike together, but our companionship feels murky at best.
How bad can it be?
Chapter 10
Dalton
For the first part of the hike down the mountain, all I can focus on is making sure I don’t stumble on the loose rocks, protruding tree roots, or holes I can’t see until I’m right upon them. This is no stroll down Fifth Avenue, that’s for sure. I’m familiar with trekking, and I prefer going on a walk rather than having my driver take me somewhere—within reason. I’m not fond of rain or sleet, but really, who is? I’m also not a fan of bugs. New York doesn’t have many. We have other pests of a different variety, but I’ve never experienced a swarm of buzzing, incessant insects like I have here on the mountainside.
I don’t want to complain. It’s obvious that while Aubrey and I are both fit and nimble adults, she is much more comfortable being in the great outdoors than I am. Still, I’m not quiet. I’m either slapping my arms, waving my hand through the air to clear the mosquitoes away, or grunting when I feel something piercing my skin.
Aubrey is so outdoorsy she doesn’t seem to mind, or if she does, she’s not letting it show. I, on the other hand, am not outdoorsy, and I curse when a damn mosquito lands on the bridge of my nose and tries to steal my blood.
“For fuck’s sake!” I can’t help it. I’m borderline miserable through this thick part of the woods. I break the silence between us, and it eases the tension that accompanied us down the slope. Aubrey giggles, pulling her shirt from her body to air it out as she waits for me to stop freaking out about the bug. But that’s her mistake. Her laughter turns to screeches when she realizes two mosquitoes flew under her shirt with the movement. As she pats her shirt and resumes walking quickly, I hurry after her. Maybe if we move faster than a walk, we’ll outpace these damn insects?
We rush too quickly, almost crashing into another couple. Now these two are outdoorsy. Decked out in climbing gear—complete with snazzy hiking sticks—hats, boots, and what seems like a retro yet forward-thinking backpack gear, they widen their eyes.
“Are those bloodsuckers getting to you?” the gray-haired man asks.
“Yes!” Aubrey and I reply in unison.
His partner, an equally gray-haired woman, squints at Aubrey. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”
She gawks in shock, and I furrow my brow.
“They’ll be worse if you are,” she advises sagely like she didn’t just pop an extremely rude and offensive question out of the blue. “Here.” In her hand is a spray can. I don’t care what’s in it. The logo of a silhouetted mosquito with a big X through it tells me I want it.
Aubrey and I both coat ourselves with the spray. It has a chemical tinge to it, but the minty smell of it is almost overpowering. We thank them and carry on as they climb uphill, and after several minutes, Aubrey and I have reverted to the silent journey, blessedly sans mosquitoes now.
I’m going to buy that stuff in bulk.
It’s a miracle, and I can finally settle into this enjoyable yet different form of exercise. Marian doesn’t have a gym at the bed-and-breakfast, and without a chance to use my muscles in a hardcore way, I appreciate this hike to really stretch and move. Even if I’m borderline panting. Caleb warned me about how thin the air is here, and with all this movement, it really is making me move slower.
The only thing that would improve this is if I could figure out a way to talk to Aubrey. I’ve never been shy about speaking my mind, but after the nurturing way she didn’t take my crap this morning, I’m not sure how to approach her. Which is a scary thought. I care about how I handle her because I want to please her, not piss her off even more. Seeking her approval and wanting her happiness feels too much like a commitment, and I’m not there yet. What if we do hit it off and she breaks away? I’m not healed enough to handle another hit like that.
As we round a curving portion of the trail, she trips. I’m shocked I don’t as well. The gravel is loose here, and with the degree of the incline, it’s like skidding down the mountain instead of walking. I catch her just in time, preventing her from pitching forward and falling flat on her face. Pressed together, I hold her until she catches her breath. This close against her, I smell the funky bug spray but something more. Her. I draw in her warmth, her softness, and wonder when the last time was that someone hugged her.
And why the hell do I care? I’m doing a shitty job of keeping my guard up.
