Blake
When they got to the bottom of the mountain and had service again, Mackenzie called her father while Blake sat in the shade. Capping his water bottle, he leaned his back against the picnic table, his feet kicked out in front of him, and observed her transformation from exhausted and annoyed to relaxed and untroubled.
The smile she wore when talking with her dad showed a softer side of her. Yeah, she was a daddy’s girl. Even though exhausted and dead on her feet, she paced along the grassy rest area, the hand that didn’t hold the phone moving about in animated conversation.
Her laugh carried across the mountain and tickled a spot deep in Blake that hadn’t been touched before. The sex was amazing and would be more than a one-time deal. There was no way he’d let her put the kibosh on the sex. It wasn’t like he was itching for a relationship either, just a few more opportunities to roll around with Mackenzie, touch her sensitive areas and hear his name on her lips.
The woman had more ticklish spots than the Pillsbury Dough Boy. He didn’t mean to tickle her during their last round of sex. The first two times were quick so when they’d gotten the sexual urgency out of their system he finally had the time to touch her all over.
It was her sides that were the most vulnerable. At first when she’d jumped, he thought she was trying to get away from him. In a way she was. After he caressed the sides of her breasts and torso a few more times, she’d snorted and shied away from him. Blake had crawled after her and pinned her with his body.
“Stop!” she’d cried.
“What’s wrong?” He’d sat up, straddling her, and saw a lone tear fall from the side of her eye. “Did I hurt you?” His stomach had clenched, never meaning to cause her pain.
“Don’t touch me there.”
“Where?” He’d looked down with confusion where they were almost joined. She’d had no complaints before.
“My sides. My ribs. I’m ticklish.”
“Oh.” The devil lurked inside of him and he’d pinned her hands above her head, stroking her soft, sensitive sides with his mouth and tongue.
“Seriously, Blake.” She’d squirmed and protested with adorable little squeaks. “You have to…stop.” Her knees had tried to come up as she attempted to curl herself into a ball and protect her sides.
“Nu-uh.” He’d licked and bit her side gently, smiling when she squealed.
“Blake!”
“I love it when you scream out my name.”
“I’m not screaming…that way. Stop, please.” She’d laughed and wiggled and kicked.
“Why should I stop?”
“Because if I’m laughing I’m not horny.”
“Sounds to me like you need to work on your multi-tasking skills. I’m horny as hell and having a grand ol’ time.”
“Blake,” she’d moaned as his mouth made a biting trail from her ribs to her breast.
He didn’t think he could have been more turned on with the mingling sounds of laughter and moans. It was all he could do to make the third time last a few seconds longer than the time before.
“You’re insatiable.” Mackenzie scowled down at him, her tall frame blocking the sun from his eyes as she pocketed her phone, bringing him back to the present.
“What?”
“We spent the last six hours hiking the tallest mountain in New England and you have a hard-on in your pants.”
Blake looked down at the bulge and shifted uncomfortably. “I told ya, it’s the yoga pants.”
“You can’t even see my ass, so don’t give me that.”
“I was thinking about your ticklish spots.” He grinned and stood, reaching out to touch her sides.
Mackenzie jumped away. “Don’t you dare. I don’t have the energy to fight you right now. I’m beat.”
“Perfect.” He stalked her as she stepped back.
“Blake,” she warned. “I’m serious.”
“Me too.” He took another step and she put out her hands in defense.
“Blake.”
“I like when you scream my name.”
“I’m going to curse your name if you touch me.”
He flashed her another wicked grin, his gaze dropping to her nipples. “Cold or turned on?”
“I swear…”
“I’ve heard. You have a foul mouth.”
She continued walking backwards, and when his fingertips came in contact with her arm, she laughed and swore and screamed and ran off.
Not to be beat by a girl, he gave pursuit, catching up with her in the parking lot. Mackenzie’s hands gripped the edge of the truck bed and her chest rose and fell with short breaths.
“Seriously. My legs are killing me, my feet are a sweaty mess, and all I want is to fall in bed—” Mackenzie stopped herself and shook her head with amusement. “Alone.”
“What about a shower?”
“Yeah, I could use one of those as well.”
“We can conserve water.”
“Alone.”
“Here’s the deal.” Damn, she was gorgeous. Sweaty dark ringlets outlined her face and stuck to her neck, her skin flushed from their chase. “My favorite brewery isn’t far from here. We’ll grab a drink and a few appetizers then head home. You can shower and go to bed alone, but I won’t hold it against you if you change your mind.”
“And no more tickling?”
Blake cupped his chin and scratched his lip with his finger, pretending to be contemplating his options. “No more tickling today. But again, you’re allowed to change your mind.”
“I highly doubt it.”
“So there’s hope?”
***
They laughed while playing the trivia game at the pub and were exhausted by the time they got back to Rocky Harbor at dusk. Hanging out with Mackenzie was easy and fun. They shared a brewer’s sampler and a plate of wings.
Most women he dated only sipped on wine or girly drinks. He liked that Mackenzie wasn’t afraid to try a dark ale and get her face and hands dirty with spicy wings. Blake didn’t do high maintenance or the walking-on-eggshell bit, not wanting to be in constant worry if he’d offend a woman. He wanted to be himself.
A guy. A guy who liked to hunt and fish and do outdoorsy things. A guy who didn’t do poetry and flowers or romantic gestures. He liked to have fun, preferably outside. Unless it was in the bedroom. Although Blake had some awesome fantasies about having sex on a mountain with Mackenzie.
Or a lake. Sex in the water was different. He’d done it before but could hardly recall who the woman was. A fitness buff like himself, on the obstacle course crew. They weren’t looking for anything long-term. Just a good time while he was in…Ohio? Maybe it was the Pennsylvania tour. Possibly Virginia.
Virginia, that was her name. They had some good times, but nothing like what he’d experienced so far with Mackenzie.
When he pulled into the parking lot behind her coffee shop, he shut off the ignition and turned to the sleeping beauty next to him. Her mouth hung open a tad and a soft snore escaped her plump lips.
He had yet to kiss her today. Fourteen hours with the woman and no lip-lock or cheap feels. Instead they’d hiked, laughed, fought, teased, and ate together. It was…nice.
Quietly slipping out of the truck, he rounded the hood and opened her door and unlocked her seat belt.
Mackenzie came to life. “Huh? Oh. We’re home.”
“Yeah, Cupcake, we are.”
Still in a daze, Mackenzie slid to the ground and Blake led her to the door. They stood facing it, him waiting for her to get the keys.
“Oh, sorry.” She pawed through her bag and pulled them out.
Blake took them from her and tried two before the third one unlocked the door. Their feet were heavy and slow on the stairs and Mackenzie stood quietly while he tried out a few keys before finding the right one to her apartment.
They slipped inside and Blake closed the door behind them as Mackenzie slid her feet like a zombie to her bathroom. He heard the water turn on and followed the sound.
“You okay?” Blake watched as she stripped her shirt and sports bra over her head and he held his breath when she bent over to untie her sneakers.
Unaware or not caring about his presence, she shimmied her pants and underwear down her legs, not with seductive intent but in a move that looked like it cost all her strength. She pulled the curtain aside and stepped into the shower.
Blake closed his eyes and did his best not to picture the warm stream of water and bubbles cascading down her breasts and belly to the juncture of her thighs. Soft moans mingled with the steamy air in the bathroom.
He needed to either strip and join her in the shower or get the hell out of dodge. Knowing he’d lose all restraint if he joined her—hell, if he heard her—Blake backed away and let himself out of the apartment.
He deserved a freaking medal.
The ride home was painful as hell. As soon as he walked through his front door he unbuttoned his pants and shucked his shirt in the hallway. Like Mackenzie, he struggled to remove his pants and welcomed the cold water when he stepped in the shower.
He wasn’t smart enough to let it run and warm up first. It would have required too much thought, too much focus, and right now his mind had one track.
Mackenzie.
After a long, unsatisfying shower, he downed some more water, loaded up on carbs, and hit the sack. Colton had covered his ass today at the gym so he could play with Mackenzie. The rest of the week would be long, especially if his quads were going to give him payback for hiking the six-thousand foot mountain.
The following morning came too soon. Blake took another shower to help him wake up and paddled out to his measly kitchen in his boxers. While whisking eggs for his omelet, he sniffed.
An unfamiliar musk, a cheap perfume, lingered in the air. He thought he smelled it last night but attested it to sexual frustration and fatigue. On edge, he opened the fridge and took out onions, peppers, and mushrooms and began dicing.
The hair on the back of his neck stood up as his eyes darted around his kitchen. Something was out of place but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He dumped his vegetables in the pan and opened a drawer to look for a spatula.
The spoons were messed up. He’d never be accused of having OCD or being terribly neat, but he knew how to keep his silverware separate. A tablespoon rested on top of the forks.
Odd. Maybe he’d tossed the silverware in the drawer haphazardly the other morning before work?
Blake put the spoon back in its spot and the tingling sensation trickled down his spine. The back of the spoon had burnt marks on it. Just like…
No, he wouldn’t freak out. Silverware stained and rusted all the time. Especially the cheap stuff he picked up at Walmart when he moved in a few months ago.
Slamming the drawer shut, he finished making his breakfast and tossed it on a paper plate. He ate while he walked around his shabby place, looking for signs of an intruder.
His flat screen still hung on the wall and his laptop still sat on the couch, plugged in and charged. Covered in a trail of chip crumbs. Blake swiped them off on to the floor and noticed a granola bar wrapper peeking out between the cushions. The onions turned sour in his stomach.
No longer in the mood to eat, he dumped the rest of his omelet in the trash and checked out the small spare bedroom. No one had touched his weights, or folded his clean laundry. Another inspection of his bedroom and his neck prickled again.
Doreen had taught all her children to never shove clean laundry into a dresser without folding it. “You might as well leave it in a big, wrinkled heap. Dresser drawers deserve folded clothes,” she’d said a thousand times growing up.
Blake being Blake, had developed a habit of digging for a shirt through a clean pile of laundry on top of his dresser. Who cared about the wrinkles? If he had a minute, or if he felt like it, he’d fold a shirt or two and stick them in a drawer, just to make Doreen happy.
The pile of whites—after washing a red Red Sox shirt with his white shirts and socks, he’d learned early on not to mess with mixing colors—were still mounded on his dresser. Pulling open the drawer assigned to T-shirts, he nearly choked on his eggs.
While there was some semblance of folding, the two stacks of shirts had been rifled through. No longer neat and orderly, the orange Under Armor shirt was rumpled and the Nike shirt on top of the stack next to it was just as disorderly.
He didn’t do it often, but when he folded and put his shirts away, they were neat and organized. Blake didn’t do things half-assed.
Go big or go home. And someone had been in his home.
Only his brothers had a key to his humble abode and he highly doubted they’d go shopping through his drawers. After putting on the orange tee and pulling on a pair of gym shorts and socks, he padded out to his living room and dropped down to the hand-me-down couch Colton had given him.
It was a piece of crap. Luke had given his old couch to Colton when he’d moved back, who graciously offered it to Blake when he moved in with Ellie. Not much else in Colton’s old tin can trailer was worth salvaging. They tore down the heap and had a hell of a bonfire before turning Colton’s land into Mud on the Rocks.
Picking up his cell, he fired off a text to each brother asking if they’d been by. Graham replied immediately.
Haven’t had my tetanus shot in a while.
Always the smartass. His apartment wasn’t that bad. Blake didn’t spend enough time there to worry about making it into a decent home. His time was spent sprucing up Rock the Gym and the obstacle course. Since Colton had a wife and kid, Blake often covered the evening shifts. The nights he was off during a decent dinnertime, he rotated his visits among his mom and siblings’ houses for a hot meal. They both worked on Thursdays when it was ladies night.
Because, well. Ladies.
Granted, he was there first thing in the morning as well, but mostly to work out or play on the course. Escaping for a few hours last week to go riding with Mackenzie reminded him of the five hundred other outdoor activities he loved doing. Which was what prompted his Mount Washington hike.
There wasn’t much he could do about his home right now, and since he didn’t have anything of value, he let it go. If Alyssa were around, following in her mother’s footsteps, she wouldn’t be a threat to him, just a nuisance.
Blake pocketed his phone, grabbed his wallet and keys, and headed out the door. Instead of running the course like he normally did in the morning, he spent some time stretching his sore calves and quads.
There weren’t any scheduled classes on Tuesday mornings, but the usual crew arrived, getting their workout in. Blake didn’t have a training session until ten, so he spent time in the office, periodically looking out through the large glass window to make sure the gym-goers were using the equipment properly.
“How was Washington?” Colton dropped his cooler on the floor and tossed his keys and phone on their shared desk.
“Good. We used to run that mountain a dozen times a year when we were kids like it was nothing. I only hiked it yesterday and my legs are feeling it.”
“You’re not as young as you used to be.”
“Says the AARP man.”
“What’s with the text? Looking for company?” Colton opened his cooler and took out a water bottle.
It must be nice to have a wife at home who packed a lunch for you every day. When Colton wasn’t looking Blake would often snag a sandwich—because Colton didn’t need three of them—or a muffin or something from his cooler. If he noticed, he never said.
Blake forgot to pack a lunch this morning so he hoped Ellie loaded Colton up today.
“Nah. It’s nothing.” He didn’t want to worry his brothers over something as stupid as a spoon and shirt out of place in a drawer. And if his sister was in town, he didn’t want to involve anyone he cared about.
Blake spotted his ten o’clock class and nodded toward the door. “Time to teach the kiddos.”
The group of geriatric best friends were a riot. The old men tried to one-up each other and Blake balanced between pushing them and making sure they didn’t have a heart attack on his course.
The rest of the day flew by, and when he closed up at seven he checked his cell for the first time. He had a dinner invite from Luke.
Perfect.
By the time Blake got to his brother’s, Luke had been called out to a small brush fire. He and Sage ate chicken fajitas, saving a good-sized portion for Luke, and watched an episode of Duck Dynasty together before he left.
His sister-in-law was cool like that. She complained about the Robertson’s beards and ugly wardrobe and he laughed at her repulsion. Knowing he had another long day ahead of him, he thanked her for the grub and headed home.
It wasn’t until he was home, propped on the couch flipping through channels that an unfamiliar wave of loneliness crashed into him. His brothers were probably lying in bed with their wives, and Rachael was with Jake. Colton and Ellie had their son CJ and Graham and Maggie had little Katie. Blake would bet his share of Mud on the Rocks that Rachael would be pregnant by the end of the year.
And then there was Lucy. Like him, she was flying solo and seemed to be happy that way. Sage had hooked her up with a good job and Lucy was quickly earning a reputation as a decent interior decorator.
Blake looked around his shabby place. Maybe he should invite her over, ask her to spruce up the place for him. He really didn’t care what his digs looked like, though. Roots hadn’t been something he’d planned on planting.
Although now with his entire life savings invested in the gym and the course, he should probably think about adulting.
Later. Maybe this fall. Summer would bring more new members to the gym and hopefully more sell-out races. While at the office today he’d come up with more ideas to bring in money. Instead of two or three big races in the summer, they could alter the course to a smaller, more popular 5K and offer it up as fundraisers for various local charities and programs.
Logging on to his laptop, he typed up a plan and sketched out new trails. Making these changes would bring in more media, more hype, more members. Which meant Blake would be sticking around for a long time.
Maybe he was planting roots.