Chapter Twelve
Damn, and just like that, Charlie forgot what he was doing, lost in Lila’s magnetic pull. Every time she said something like that, he found himself staring, searching her face for some hint that she was joking or saying something she thought he wanted her to say. But instead, she’d hold his gaze, her eyes sparkling, her smile so breathtaking, and he was stuck, staring and caught, and yet he couldn’t look away any more than he could make himself stop having these thoughts about her.
“You’re staring at me.”
“You noticed.”
“Hard not to, seeing as I’m looking at you while you’re doing it.” She laughed, but there was nothing funny about it. No, this was scary shit, the kind that could end a twenty-year-long friendship. Which he couldn’t let happen. And yet . . .
He reached into the cooler for a water, just to have something to damn do, but he couldn’t help but look back at her again.
Like the other night, she had her hair in a mess on top of her head, and though he’d always been a long-hair guy, he found the look unbelievably sexy on her. She wore a tank top and Columbia hiking shorts, a popular pair they sold at Southern Dive because lots of women around town wore them during the summer, when people wore as little as possible. And never once had he given those shorts a second look on anyone else. But on Lila, with her long, tanned legs ending in hiking boots, he thought she might be the most adorable person in the world, let alone Crestler’s Key.
Which all led to one hard truth: He needed to talk to Lucas. And he would . . . as soon as they got back into town. For now, he was here to give her a distraction, and he intended to do just that.
“You ready?” he asked, clearing his throat and his mind in the process.
She clapped. “You’re the boss. Lead me. I’m up for whatever.”
“All right. I thought we’d hit the trail first. The waterfalls are beautiful this time of year, and that trail to the left up there,” he said, pointing ahead, “goes past two. Three, if we go off course. But that’d take a little more time and a lot more faith.” He winked. “So grab your pack and bring your super powers, Ms. Protector; we’re hiking.”
Charlie tried to keep quiet as they went up the trail and instead allow nature to tell its own story. Everything was in bloom, and with the stream out there and the waterfalls in the distance, the mountains became magical. But he was never one to keep his mouth shut for long, so after a while, he started pointing out landmarks, explaining this plant or that, then dove into stories of family trips the Littletons had taken over the years, too many to recount.
“Did any of you ever get lost? I can’t imagine all three of you hanging around your parents the whole time,” she asked.
“Actually, yeah, Brady. He’ll deny it if you ask him, but this one time little brother decided to get cocky.”
“Of course he did.”
Charlie laughed. “Damn fool told us he knew a faster route back to the campsite and was so arrogant about it, we told him to go, then. Beat us back, and we’d give him ten bucks. An hour later and he still hadn’t arrived. Angry, Dad promised Zac and me the spanking of our lives if we didn’t find him immediately. So we all set out, and for a while, we were real scared. Night was starting to set in, and he was barely twelve. Mom was beside herself. But then Brady turned on his flashlight and started calling out to us. Zac heard him first, and we took off. It was probably the only time we’d willingly hugged each other as boys, but damn, I was glad to see him.”
“I bet. He was always your favorite.”
“What?” Charlie jerked around to look at her. They’d reached a narrow part of the trail, so he’d taken the lead. “Zac’s my favorite.”
“No he isn’t. He’s the one you pretend is your favorite, because he should be your favorite. But really it’s Brady. He thinks the most like you. You know . . .”—she shrugged—“when he chooses to think.”
Charlie turned back and took two steps before stopping again. “Nah, it’s totally Zac, maybe even Kate, but not Brady.”
She grinned. “Whatever you say.” But he could tell by her all-knowing expression that she didn’t believe him.
“I’m going to tell Zac you said that.”
“Why? He’ll just agree with me.”
“No he won’t. He’ll be pissed that you didn’t say it was him.”
“No, he won’t,” Lila insisted. “He’ll say he knows, and then he’ll go on his way. How does everybody else know that Brady’s your favorite sibling but you?”
He shook his head and faced forward again, but he wasn’t so sure anymore. Brady was the fun one, sure, the one willing to do anything. But underneath all that, he was also the one who had supported Charlie’s T-shirt idea from the beginning. He joked about it, but Charlie knew that was just his way of keeping it current in Charlie’s mind, to keep the conversation going. And even beyond the supporting-him bit, he was never judgmental, never questioning. When push came to shove, he supported Charlie no questions asked.
“Holy shit. He is my favorite.”
A laugh broke from behind him. “I told you.”
“What else do you know about me that I don’t know?”
“Come now, you don’t expect me to hand over all my secrets on our first date.”
He pivoted around again, a grin playing at his lips. “Date, huh?”
“A friend date.”
“That’s a thing?”
“It is now.”
Charlie wasn’t sure why, but he liked the sound of that. Adding friend made it feel as though he were doing nothing wrong . . . even if inside his thoughts were anything but platonic.
For the next hour they continued around the trail, stopping to look out over the world below every so often, as much to show themselves how far they’d climbed as anything else. There was a peacefulness to being around Lila that Charlie found addictive. They didn’t have to talk or try too hard, put on that fake smile and pretend. It was easy, and that easiness was what had his stomach turning—in good ways and bad.
Why couldn’t she be someone else’s sister? Anyone else’s. He found himself wondering how he would have played this if she wasn’t Lucas’s sister, but in truth, he already knew the answer to that question. He would have taken her on a date, then a second, and third. Kissed her for sure, and maybe more. Suddenly his thoughts drifted to those long legs, wrapped around his waist, her hair loose around her shoulders, wearing nothing but—
“Whoa!” Charlie stumbled back, landing on his ass. “Shit.”
Lila pulled him back. “You okay? You almost walked off a cliff. Didn’t you hear me telling you to stop?”
Um, no. I was too busy picturing you in inappropriate positions.
Christ, this was getting bad, and though he liked to think he would have stopped before diving off the side of the mountain, he couldn’t help feeling the irony. Here he was, staring at this beautiful woman, who made him laugh, who made him feel so whole, and it was like he was on a cliff, deciding whether or not to jump in headfirst or slowly retreat from the danger.
“Sorry, got distracted there.”
“You think? I’d never seen you so intent. What were you thinking about?”
The image returned, her head tilted back as he kissed her—Dammit.
“Nothing. Nothing at all. Look, we’re here.” Thank God for the freaking waterfall to distract her so he could calm himself down.
They stepped up to the edge of the trail, this part with a protective railing so hikers could look out and see the waterfall. Lila gripped the railing and her mouth dropped as she took it in. It stretched from one side of the river to the other and cascaded down in white and golden waves over giant rocks, before crashing to the pool below.
“Wow, that’s just . . . wow. Was that here when we were kids? I don’t remember it.”
“Yeah, but the trail wasn’t, so you might not have hiked this far.”
“But you did?”
He brushed off the awe in her voice. “We were boys, did our thing, which typically erred on the reckless side, so yeah. We’ve probably hiked every inch of these woods.”
They fell into silence as they stared at the falls, their beauty breathtaking, something created by nature, and that part of it never failed to amaze him. But then his gaze cut to Lila, her face relaxed as she watched the falls, her chest rising and falling slowly, absorbing nature, and then she turned to look at him.
“You’re staring again.”
“I know,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.
“Why?”
“Because you’re you . . . and I can’t seem to look away.”