Page 20 of Off the Trail

I look away from his face and back up at the stars. I could use another hit of that cosmic insignificance theory right about now. Except it’s not working. It’s reminding me that kissing Blaze might seem like a momentous thing to want to do, and something I should think about very, very carefully before acting. But out here under the stars, there’s a part of me that thinks I should go for it. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?

I could just ask.

“What were you going to ask me?” Blaze says, and I start. Did I say something out loud?

“Huh?” I swing my gaze back to him. Gosh, he’s really pretty cute.

I shake my head. I’ve literally never thought about calling another guy cute before. Is this some kind of magical mountaintop? Am I falling under some kind of spell?

Or is Blaze just a nice guy and I’m clinging to the first person to be real with me in years?

“Before, you said you wanted to ask me a question,” he says, apparently not actually reading my libidinous mind.

“Oh. Right. I was going to say the Laurels will be playing for the division champs pretty soon. I was going to ask if there’s any place to watch the games.” Maybe it’s not the best idea, but I’m still rooting for them.

“Oh. Well. I’ve got a sports package, if you want to come over.”

Somehow, after three days without connectivity, I forgot that people could have service in their homes. What did I think—that he lived completely off the grid? And now he’s inviting me to his house. Like a friend would do.

“That’s a nice offer,” I say slowly. I want to accept, but it feels too much like an imposition.

“You don’t have to take me up on it now. Think about it.”

“Okay.”

A howl echoes from somewhere below us, followed by what sounds like barking. Misty’s head lifts from where she’d been resting it on her front paws. “What was that?”

Blaze quickly snaps Misty’s lead on as her ears twitch. “Coyote,” he says nonchalantly. “Not close. But maybe it’s time we head down the mountain.” He takes two small flashlights out of his bottomless backpack, plus two headlamps affixed to elastic headbands. He also clips a blinking red light to Misty’s collar, sort of like a bicycle light.

In less than two minutes, we have our picnic cleared back into the pack, bringing every speck of trash with us. Even though I offer, Blaze takes the pack again for the way home. I rationalize that it’s much lighter now rather than make a big deal out of wanting to carry it.

I can see surprisingly well between the headlamp and the flashlight, and the hike down seems faster than the one up, quiet and cool and dark, but not menacingly so. I’m there with Blaze, whom I trust. I’ve got the whistle around my neck, and we have his good dog by our sides. We don’t run into a single bear, or even a coyote.

And even though I can’t see the stars through the trees, I know they’re there.

Chapter 8

Blaze

The weekend is spectacularly beautiful and jam-packed with work. I’m so busy helping retreat guests wring the most out of the perfect autumn weather that I don’t have time to visit the construction site with Brooke. She doesn’t seem to mind, because if I’m barely around all weekend, she seems to be home even less.

When we finally cross paths on Sunday evening, she’s doing laundry and I’m restocking the kitchen after a grocery run. Sometimes I attend Sunday supper at the retreat, but I’ve been there so much I just need a night at home. Besides, Shawn told me when we were fishing early this morning, before the group hike I led with half a dozen other retreat guests, that he wasn’t planning to be there.

Not that I necessarily would have made a point of going if he were. Probably.

“Busy weekend, huh?” Brooke says, helping out by putting away the sack of dog food in the tiny pantry closet.

“It’s peak leaf season, so yeah. You seem busy yourself. I didn’t hear you come in last night.”

She shuts the cupboard door with a sharp click. “Yeah. I stayed out pretty late.”

I wait, but she doesn’t elaborate. “You want me to throw something together for dinner? We haven’t watched a show together in a while.”

“Sounds good.” Her phone rings, and she pulls it from her pocket. “Be back in a sec.”

She heads to her bedroom, and I wonder briefly who’s calling her that she doesn’t want me to know about.

Monday, the weather takes a sharp turn. Instead of sunny and gorgeous, it’s damp and chilly. I can tell we’re in for a wet few days. I’m bummed about what it means for house construction progress, but I don’t mind the slower pace at the retreat. I set up badminton in the ballroom, and Shawn comes by to play a round with me and a couple other guests. The racket looks laughably tiny in his big hands, and he doesn’t quite have the hang of serving, but we still manage to win, his face flushed with exertion and pleasure as he shakes hands with our opponents.