Page 38 of 10 Signs You Need to Grovel

“You look . . .” She trails off, her voice turning breathy.

I lick my lips, feeling suddenly parched. “I look what?”

“The same but different.”

I angle toward her fully, let her look her fill. There’s no hair hiding my scars and painful past, my ink and the slow progress I’ve made this year. I have no secrets about where I’ve been or who I’ve become. “Is that good or bad?” I ask.

Her chest rises and falls deeply. “You look really good.”

Goddamn it, how can one woman affect me so intensely?

Red splotches decorate her chest, a telltale sign she’s turned on too. Sadie’s whole body used to blush red when I’d kiss her lips or nip her ear or run my nose up her neck, at which point my body would hit hyperdrive. And yep. Still the same reaction. Everything in me flares brighter, and I can’t look away. I soak in the bow of her soft mouth, the constellation of freckles—pale and sweetly innocent—decorating her slightly upturned nose, the natural kiss-pink of her lips, her blonde-streaked hair highlighting the myriad of colors in her gold-flecked brown eyes. I’m instantly addicted. So consumed that words push past the thickness in my throat. The dare. The question. The truth I no longer want to avoid.

“Sadie,” I say, my voice a gravelly blend of raw and charged, “are you single?”

Her eyes flare, and her lips fall open. My chest spasms, a minute from rupturing.

“Yeah,” she whispers, and a rush of relief winds me. She clears her throat, her breastbone rising faster as she searches my face. “Are you seeing anyone?”

I swallow, mentally restraining myself from touching her. “I haven’t dated anyone long term since you.” I drop my voice. “No one’s ever held a candle to you.”

She bites her lip and touches her clavicle.

I fist and unclench my hands.

Laughter comes from the kids, and we both glance at them. All seems well, but by the time I look back at Sadie, she’s stepped away.

“So,” she says awkwardly, “that treasure hunt? Great idea. Like, really great. It must’ve taken ages to hide that stuff. It’s such a great activity.”

There’s nothing great about Sadie repeating the word great three times. Maybe blurting the single question right before our hike, in front of a group of kids, wasn’t the smoothest move.

“Yeah, well.” I reach to tug at my long hair, only to remember it’s gone. “Had to make up for my last pathetic attempt at fun games. Spent most of yesterday hiding stuff and getting attacked by trees.” I hold out my arms, showing off the scratches.

She glances at my forearms, and more red dots her chest. She quickly crosses her arms and focuses on the kids. “I’d say your work’s paying off. They’re already engaged.”

I’m certainly engaged in Sadie’s reaction to me. She used to tell me my forearms were sexy. Forearm porn were her words. With the hours I spend working out, seems I’ve given her a little extra eye candy. Maybe flustering her in front of our audience isn’t so bad.

Quitting while I’m ahead, I face our group and am unprepared for the sudden warmth that fills me. Carter and Jun are comparing sheets. Jasmine and Max and Zoey are guessing what I’ve hidden in the forest. Even Olivia’s perusing her nature booklet. I rub my chest, unsure what this weird pressure is. Probably lingering heat from learning Sadie’s single.

I nod at my group. “Let’s get treasure hunting.”

The first third of the hike runs as smoothly as I hoped. I haven’t lost or maimed any kids. None of them exhibit signs of boredom. Olivia hasn’t even cashed in today’s owed question yet. They’re following my handout closely, each clue giving them the approximate time and distance between the next one. Some find their treasure easily, some take longer. We wait at each junction, and I record the order in which they discover their trinkets, preparing to tally the scores at the end. When Max finds a glow stick and whoops, my chest spasms so intensely I’m worried I’m having a heart attack.

“Seriously, Des. This hike is the best,” Sadie says.

While keeping the kids engaged means I haven’t had alone time with Max yet, Sadie and I have spent the last forty-five minutes walking behind the group, reminiscing and catching up.

I step over a branch and match her stride. “Remember that time in Windfall when you were so busy telling me about an art exhibit that you walked right into a telephone pole?” I nudge her arm. “That was the best.”

Laughing, she gives me a friendly shove back. “Not as good as the time you slipped at the spring fair and fell in that pile of cow shit.”

An incident that still has the power to test my no-longer-ironclad gag reflex. “Never happened.”

“I have photographic evidence.”

I replay the day, how much fun we had watching the horse jumping, holding hands as we ate candy apples, then licking each other’s sticky fingers. After which I slipped and fell in cow shit. “You don’t have photos. You were too busy helping me up.”

She covers her face with one hand, muffled noises slipping through. “Actually, I do.”