Hugh offers to drive me home, which gives me a chance to quiz him on what I need to bring tomorrow. I already have a feeling I’m going to embarrass myself when he realizes I have the lung capacity of a five-year-old, so I don’t want to show up in the wrong clothes or bring something that’s going to attract bears or other wild animals that could possibly eat us.
All he said was, “Wear comfortable clothes and shoes. I’ll take care of the rest.”
Now it’s early Saturday morning and I’m standing in front of the mirror, wondering if my yoga pants and formfitting long-sleeved shirt, along with the hoodie I plan to wear will be sufficient. I googled hiking attire last night and this seems appropriate. Comfortable and cute, the best of both worlds. Plus my butt looks great in these pants.
Without too much intense searching, I managed to find the runners I bought two years ago when Bridget and I went on a health kick and decided to start walking together. Even though it was a short-lived phase, I managed to break in the shoes, so hopefully they’ll be comfortable enough for a day of hiking. It took me longer to find the mini backpack I used as a purse during the ’90s. I’m not ashamed to say I was a mini-backpack-wearing, lollipop-sucking, Spice Girl wannabe cliché in my teens, and the ’90s remain my favorite decade. I didn’t keep many things from my teen years—mostly because I didn’t have much since my aunt was a minimalist—but I could never bring myself to give away this backpack. I mentally stick my tongue out at Aunt Fan for telling me I shouldn’t keep things I don’t need.
Into the tiny bag goes a scarf and a pair of gloves in case it’s chillier than expected during our hike. I plan to tuck a bottle of water in before I leave. But what if I have to pee? I assume there are no bathrooms along the trails. Will I have to pop a squat if nature calls? The thought of wiping myself with nearby leaves makes me stuff a bunch of tissues into the backpack. Just in case. After a bit of deliberation, I tuck a pack of gum into the outside pocket, along with my favorite lip gloss. You never know when the need will arise for makeout essentials. It’s best to be prepared.
A few minutes before ten o’clock, I head downstairs to wait for Hugh. His SUV—I still think of it as Santa’s Sleigh, thanks to Meredith—pulls to a stop in front of my building promptly at ten, which makes me smile. He hops out and comes around to meet me, which makes me smile even bigger. I have a moment to take in his blue plaid shirt with a black tee peeking out from underneath, dark cargo pants, and sturdy boots before he wraps his arms around me in a quick hug.
“You ready for this?” he asks as he releases me.
“I think so.” This is the first time I’m seeing him freshly shaved, and he looks completely different. He’s still ridiculously sexy, but I have to say the perma-stubble I’ve grown used to suits him. He opens my door and offers me a little boost into the high seat. An amused grin graces his face when he spots my backpack. “Just a few essentials,” I tell him.
On the way across town, Hugh explains we’re going to a park that has a bunch of trails. “I thought we’d try a moderate trail. It takes quite a while to reach the top, but it’s not as steep as some of the other paths. The view at the top is worth it; you can see all of Bellevue from up there.”
When we reach the park and Hugh hauls out a regular-sized backpack, I realize I’ve forgotten my water. Not wanting to seem like an idiot who can’t manage to bring the bare essentials along on a hike, I don’t mention it. It’s not like it’s summer, with the full force of the sun beating down on us and making me sweat or feel like I’m dying of thirst. Hopefully.
Hugh takes my hand, effectively making me forget about my lack of water, the chill in the air, and pretty much anything else. This whole situation is so strange, although not in a bad way. When I’m with him I feel alternately comfortable and nervous. There’s no denying he gives me butterflies and I’d be lying if I said I don’t think about him way more than I probably should.
And yet I’ve never had this type of relationship. We’re friends hanging out, keeping it casual. Are we technically dating? Will it lead to more? Is sex going to be involved? My brain jutters to a halt right there while a fluttery feeling inside me screams ‘Please let there be sex involved!’ I’m not the most experienced when it comes to dating or relationships, so this whole keeping it casual thing is throwing me off.
At the foot of the path, Hugh pauses to look at me. I pull myself from my thoughts, letting my gaze travel from our joined hands to the trail, then back to him. “Just go slow. I’m new at this.”
Something in his expression—maybe the way his eyes soften, or the slight tilt to his lips—tells me he senses the double meaning behind my words. “We’ll go at your pace. If you need me to slow down at any point, just say the word.” His voice is quiet, roughened by his accent. He’s standing so close I can feel his warm breath on my face. The combination makes my legs wobble, which probably isn’t the best way to start what’s sure to be a long hike. I take a few deep breaths and he gives my hand a squeeze before releasing it to swing his backpack into place.
The trail is wide enough at first for us to walk side by side at a leisurely pace. The fact we’re able to carry on a conversation makes me confident I’ll be fine as we carry on. That confidence begins to wane as we reach the first incline. My breath comes harder from the exertion, despite the hill not being all that steep. Our conversation peters out until we’re walking in silence with the only sounds besides normal forest noises being my heavy breaths and our footfalls.
The trail is fairly smooth with a few steeper areas and the occasional fallen branch or other debris over the path. Whenever we approach something like a log or gnarly tree roots, Hugh reaches for my hand without a word, guiding me and making sure I’m okay. I don’t for a second believe it’s because he thinks I’m incapable of handling myself, but rather just his nature. He’s a gentleman, and it’s hot as hell. Besides, I’ll take any excuse to touch him, even if it’s just an innocent brush of hands or him grasping my fingers.
I have no idea how much time has passed when we reach a huge flat rock to the side of the path. It’s bathed in dappled sunlight and all but calls to my strained legs and lungs. “Ready for a break?” Hugh asks. “This looks like a good spot to rest.”
“Was my gasping getting to be too much? Or did you notice my legs starting to shake?” I collapse on the rock. It holds a surprising amount of heat from the sun, making me want to curl up on it like a cat.
Hugh chuckles. “Neither.” He fishes two water bottles out of his backpack and hands one to me.
I accept it with a murmured thanks, cracking the lid immediately and taking several gulps. My theory about not getting dehydrated went out the window about ten minutes ago when my mouth started drying out. From the corner of my eye, I catch Hugh watching me.
“I had water ready to bring,” I tell him, breathless from chugging half the bottle. “I didn’t tell you I forgot to grab it because I didn’t want you to think I’m an idiot.”
He perches beside me on the rock, close enough for our thighs to touch. “I’d never think you’re an idiot, so you needn’t worry about that.” He studies me, then gives his head an almost imperceptible shake. “For the record, I don’t expect you to be perfect, Ivy. Or to always say or do the ‘right’ thing. I get the feeling you’re hard on yourself and sometimes forget you’re only human. Give yourself a break once in awhile.”
Well. He sure has me pegged. “Should I start calling you ‘Dr. MacKinnon’?” I ask lightly.
The way he scrunches his face in response is adorable. “Sorry. Force of habit. I didn’t mean to go all psychoanalytical on you.”
“It’s fine.” With his thigh still pressing against mine, it’s way too easy to lay my hand there. I stop myself from allowing my fingers to roam and test out the thick muscles beneath his cargo pants. “I don’t mind, actually. This will probably sound weird, but it’s nice to be seen and understood.”
“Not weird.” His large, rough hand covers mine. That small amount of contact has awareness zinging through me. Most of the guys I’ve dated have had desk jobs, so they don’t have work-roughened hands. Hell, some of them have had softer hands than mine. It makes me wonder what it would feel like to have Hugh’s hands on me in other ways. Rough hands gliding over soft skin, rasping as they move over me…
Hugh’s fingers tighten around mine, jolting me back to reality. Oh god. I hope my face isn’t as red as I imagine it is. From the tiny almost-smirk on Hugh’s face, I’m guessing it is, and I’m also guessing he has an idea where my mind was wandering.
“I think I’m good to go,” I say, even though my legs still feel like jelly. “Probably best to keep going so my muscles don’t seize up or something.”
“As you like.” Without releasing my hand, he gets to his feet, pulling me up with him. We start out again at a meandering pace until my legs adjust, and then we move with more purpose. Hugh points out different things along the path, like a thick copse of trees that still has some of their brightly-colored autumn leaves, and the small animals scurrying about.
Despite the strain on my lungs and the fact my hips are beginning to ache, I’m enjoying myself. Hugh is good company; I’m comfortable in his presence, and I appreciate he doesn’t feel the need to fill every silence or make small talk. He’s interesting and funny and smart, which makes for one hella sexy package.
Since our short break, the trail has slowly been getting steeper. We reach a narrow pass that won’t allow us to go side by side. Hugh suggests I go ahead of him so I can set the pace. With him behind me, I’m now doubly glad I wore my best pair of butt-enhancing yoga pants. Not that I imagine he’s staring at my derriere, but still.
My breaths become more strained as we climb—because that’s what we’re doing now, climbing. The gentle rise has turned into more of a hill, and besides being narrow it’s also littered with debris. I keep my eyes cast downward to avoid stumbling or slipping on the slick leaves that cover the forest floor. With my attention on the ground, I narrowly miss colliding with a tree that’s sticking out further than the others. Expelling an embarrassed laugh from my tired lungs, I stop and collapse against the offending tree to catch my breath.
“That would have been great,” I say between pants. “Concussion in the middle of the woods. I thought you said this wasn’t a steep path.”
Hugh leans on a boulder across from me. His breathing is only slightly heavier than usual and he’s barely broken a sweat. Bastard. “There’s a wee chance I might have chosen the wrong path,” he says slowly, glancing up the incline ahead of us. When his gaze returns to mine, he gives me what I’m sure he thinks is a winning grin.
I compress my lips, trying to my reaction. I can’t help it. He has this gorgeous, bright smile that always makes my lips twitch in response. “Don’t try to be all cute and charming,” I say. “Using words like ‘wee’ and grinning at me like that.”
Said grin widens. “I think the smoother path was a bit further down in the park,” he says. “The good news is we’re not far from the top. I promise the view is worth it. And I’ll be sure to find the more even path for the way back down.”
“Good, otherwise I’d probably trip on something and end up rolling to the bottom.”
“I wouldn’t let that happen.” He pushes off the boulder and moves toward me. His long legs close the distance between us in a few steps. I swallow hard as he enters my personal space, standing so close I have to lean my head back to look up at him. The image of him wavers in front of me slightly and I realize I’m holding my breath. The air rushes out of my lungs in a whoosh, and I cover the sound by clearing my throat. My tongue darts out to moisten my lips, the movement drawing Hugh’s attention to my mouth.
He’s finally going to kiss me. The butterflies that took flight in my stomach a moment ago start doing a giddy jig.
His lips part, but instead of lowering to mine, they start moving. It takes my brain a few beats to catch up and tune in to what he’s saying. “—go first now so I can help you over some of the rougher terrain. We should reach the top in another ten to fifteen minutes, and then we can eat.”
“Eat?” I ask stupidly.
“Aye, I brought us a picnic.”
There he goes again, being all cute and charming and Scottish. It almost makes up for the fact he didn’t kiss me. Almost.
Hugh takes the lead and I follow. He’s somehow able to pay attention to the path in front of us while also keeping an eye on the ground and checking regularly on me. His strides are confident as opposed to my tentative steps as I pick my way over roots and rocks and dips in the earth. He reaches back for me several times, grasping my hand to assist me. At one point the incline becomes so steep it’s as if we’re climbing straight up. If it weren’t for Hugh, I have a feeling I’d either have to drop to my hands and knees to crawl, or grasp nearby low-lying branches as leverage.
I’m about to forsake what’s left of my pride and beg for a rest when sunlight hits my face. Blinking against the bright rays, I see we’ve reached a small clearing. Several feet ahead of us, the ground evens out in a wide expanse before dropping off. It gives me the energy I need to surge ahead and reach the top.
My already-strained breathing hitches at the sight laid out before me. After a moment, I sense Hugh’s presence. “You weren’t kidding about this view.” The city stretches out below us, a mixture of trees, fields, and grid-like patterns of streets, with the river snaking through the middle. Many of the trees have lost their leaves by now, but I bet this view was spectacular in October and early November.
“Not the best time of year for optimum viewing,” Hugh says, his shoulder brushing mine as he shrugs. “Still quite lovely, though. Makes you feel like you’re on top of the world.” He strips off his backpack, letting it fall to the ground before stretching his arms over his head. I turn in time to see his shirt ride up, exposing a few inches of bare skin. Bare skin dusted with dark hair leading south into his cargo pants. I glance away quickly so I won’t be tempted to gawk. Or touch.
“I’m not gonna lie, I was about ready to start cursing you,” I tell him. “Now I have to face how woefully out of shape I am and decide whether to do something about it or go back to my couch potato ways.”
He chuckles, dropping one arm around my shoulders. “You could hibernate through the winter and then start fresh when the weather turns nice. On the way back down, you’ll see the trail I meant for us to take is more manageable. Maybe today will inspire you to start hiking.”
“I’m sure it’s beautiful in the spring when everything starts to bloom again.” I feel a sudden chill when Hugh’s arm slides from my shoulders and he moves away to grab his backpack. From the depths, he pulls a plaid blanket—or is it a tartan since he’s Scottish?—then drops his bag again. I watch as he wanders the clearing, presumably looking for a spot to set up.
He stops in a patch of weak sunlight, where he kicks aside a few rocks and pinecones, and spreads the blanket on the ground. “This suit you?”
I nod and he motions for me to sit. A small moan forms in the back of my throat the moment I’m off my tired feet. I’d love to kick off my shoes, but with the amount of sweat I’ve shed in the last hour, I’m sure I don’t exactly smell daisy fresh. I settle for loosening the laces and letting the tongue of my runners hang out.
Hugh unpacks a small feast from his bag. I have no idea how he managed to fit all those containers in there, along with several bottles of water, plus the blanket we’re sitting on. “Is that backpack made from the same material as Santa’s sack? Something that makes it magically bottomless?”
He pauses to look at me, his eyes twinkling in that mischievous way I’ve come to love. “You really have it all figured out, don’t you?”
I give a nonchalant shrug, even though my heart is beating out a samba rhythm in response to the double-whammy of those sparkling eyes and even brighter smile.
“Actually, it’s a mini TARDIS of sorts,” he says, patting the bag. “Bigger on the inside.”
“You know, it would make sense if Santa were a Time Lord,” I say. “Able to manipulate the space/time continuum and travel the world in one night.”
Hugh ducks his head, laughing under his breath. “A girl who not only gets my Doctor Who joke, but runs with it. I think I’m in love.”
By some miracle my answering laugh doesn’t sound shaky. He’s kidding, Ivy. Obviously kidding, and yet my heart gives an extra hard thump at his words. “If I’d known it would be that easy, I’d have pulled the nerd card a lot sooner.”
“I’ll have to inspect that nerd card later, compare it to my own. For now, I’m realizing I should have asked if you have any food allergies or aversions.” He motions to the containers before popping the lid on the closest one.
I stretch my legs and lean back, supporting my weight on my palms. “Nope. I’m easy.”
One of his eyebrows quirks as he glances my way. The tilt to his lips makes me realize what I just said. His eyes sweep over my stretched-out form and his other eyebrow rises to meet the first.
I sit up quickly so he doesn’t think my words, paired with my half-prone body are some kind of invitation. “About food. Easy about food. No allergies, and I’m not picky. I’ll eat anything you feed me.”
His laugh is a low rumble. “I knew what you meant.”
His smile continues its slow stretch, making the corners of his eyes crinkle in a way that has my libido revving to match the pace of my heart. If he keeps looking at me like that, I might become easy in other ways too. More fun ways.
Finally, he breaks eye contact and it feels like I’ve been released from some magical hold. He hands me a reusable plastic plate and motions to the open containers—sandwiches, grapes, cheese, and raw vegetables with dip. I fill my plate and watch as he does the same.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been on a proper picnic before,” I say. “Bridget and I sometimes eat takeout in the park during lunch, which kinda feels like a picnic, except this took actual effort.”
“Unless I bought it all in the premade section of the supermarket and put it in containers to look like I put in effort.” He pops a grape into his mouth.
I freeze with a sandwich triangle halfway to my mouth. “Did you?”
He eyes me, his face blank. After a moment, he starts to chuckle. “No. All my own work. Had you going, though.”
“Har har,” I say dryly, but I can’t help the giggle that follows.
“Tell me more about Bridget,” he says.
Surprised by the statement, it takes me a moment to decide where to begin. “We’ve been friends for a little over six years. We both started working at Quest at the same time, and we clicked immediately. We would spend all day together at work, then hang out most nights. Right from the start, I was like part of her family. She had her own apartment at the time, but her parents would invite us over for dinner regularly.” My throat tightens thinking about the countless family dinners we had, the day trips we took together with no destination in mind, the nights spent curled up on the couch watching movies.
Hugh’s hand on my leg draws my attention. “Bridget’s dad passed away, right?”
I nod, blinking rapidly against the sudden stinging in my eyes. “Two years ago. It was like losing another parent. My own parents were amazing, but they were so busy we didn’t have a lot of quality family time. Then my aunt and uncle were so distant and cold, I spent a lot of time feeling isolated. We had dinner together every night, but it was always a silent affair. Mealtime wasn’t for talking, and food was little more than a necessity. With Bridget’s family, we had these elaborate meals, and there was always laughter and conversation. Her dad was hilarious and smart, and he genuinely cared about me and what was going on in my life. If I miss him this much, I can’t imagine how much Bridget misses him.” My voice wavers and cracks on the last few words. I stuff a big bite of food in my mouth to keep from crying.
Hugh inches closer to me and puts his arm around my shoulders. I angle toward him and he pulls me in tighter, running his hand slowly up and down my back. In the years since my parents died, I’ve heard endless words of comfort, but I’m glad Hugh doesn’t say anything right now. His presence, the warmth and solidness of his body, his now-familiar scent wrapping around me, brings more comfort than any words could.
Once I’m certain I won’t burst into tears, I ease away from him, meeting his eyes briefly. “Thank you.”
“Any time.” The tiny, reassuring smile he offers makes me want to cry all over again, but for a completely different reason. I told him earlier how nice it felt to be seen and understood, and that’s exactly how he makes me feel all the time. It’s heartening and yet scary as hell at the same time.
Hugh shifts so he’s no longer directly in my personal space. He’s still closer than he was originally, yet not so close we have to contort into awkward positions to make eye contact. “Have things changed since Bridget became your boss?”
I tilt my head back and forth. “Yes and no. She’s still Bridget. She’s still my best friend and soul sister. A lot changed at once, though. She started dating David and got promoted within a few weeks, so she’s busy and has less free time. We went from working side by side every day and hanging out all the time to her being in the big office and working longer hours or being with David. It’s been an adjustment, but that’s part of getting older, right? Things change, people change, life changes.”
“I think you missed your calling as a psychologist,” Hugh says.
“Ha. Maybe that can be my next profession.”
“Are you in the market for a new profession?”
“No?” It comes out sounding like a question, which makes Hugh’s brows arch. “Maybe? I don’t know. I like my job well enough and I’m good at it. Lately, though…” I trail off, sighing. “Lately it feels like I’m doing it by rote. I’d been feeling that way for a few months, and then when I started working at Santa’s Village, it made me realize how bored I am at my day job. At the Village, I’m always on my toes and always doing something different. Something fun.”
“So why don’t you quit? Find a job that excites you and challenges you?”
I sputter out a laugh. “It’s not that simple. Not every job is fun or exciting. And quitting doesn’t guarantee I’ll find something better. Or find something at all.” I think of Celia and her trouble finding and keeping a job. Mind you, that says as much about her as it does about the current job market, but still. “My job may not thrill me, but it keeps a roof over my head and pays the bills.”
“Money isn’t everything, though, is it?” he asks.
Without thinking, I say, “Spoken by someone who has tons of it.” My hand flies to cover my mouth, even though it’s too late to take the words back. Heat floods my cheeks. It takes me a few seconds to gain the courage to meet Hugh’s eyes. His expression is unreadable. I shift my hand enough to say, “Remember how you said you don’t expect me to be perfect or say the right thing? Please keep that in mind while I remove my foot from my mouth.”
He laughs quietly, shaking his head. “Don’t be sorry. You’re right. I wouldn’t have to work another day in my life if I didn’t want to. I’m privileged and I can acknowledge that privilege. Doesn’t mean I’ve never struggled, though.”
“I know, which is why it was a stupid thing to say.”
“It wasn’t.” When I shoot him a skeptical look, he leans forward and takes my hand. “It was honest. I appreciate honesty. Besides, you’re cute when you blurt things out and even cuter when you blush.” His free hand reaches for my face, the backs of his fingers brushing my cheek. On cue, more blood rushes to my cheeks. I’m probably now as red as the plaid blanket we’re sitting on.
Hugh doesn’t seem to mind. He just smiles as he continues stroking my cheek, then lets his hand fall to clasp my hand in both of his.
“Anyway,” I say, my voice shaking. “I’ll think about it. My job, I mean. It’s hard to think too much about it these days when I’m working non-stop and barely have time for much else. I’m not sure my brain can handle the deep thoughts that would come with quitting my job and deciding what to do next.” Speaking of my brain not handling deep thoughts, it’s hard to concentrate with Hugh’s fingers moving over the back of my hand, making little swirly patterns on my skin. “Maybe I’ll take some time off and write a book. Secrets from one of Santa’s elves.”
His lips twitch. “You’d have an extra advantage since you’re dating Santa.”
My gaze darts up to meet his. “Is that what we’re doing? Dating?”
He lifts my hand, stopping mere inches from his mouth. “I was the one who said no labels or strings, wasn’t I? Guess I’m going back on that already.” His warm breath ghosts over my fingers. I never knew the hand was an erogenous zone, but that light breath of air and the proximity of his full lips are turning me into a puddle of lust. “Regardless, you’re closer to Santa than most.”
“It’s kind of a nice place to be,” I say, my voice barely louder than a whisper.
Those wonderfully full lips curve. I can’t take my eyes off them. He brings my hand the rest of the way to his mouth and brushes a kiss on my knuckles. The feather-light movement is like a jolt of electricity to my central nervous system. My whole body is suddenly on high alert, including my nipples, which are standing at attention.
Hugh’s gaze slides to mine. From the way his small smile turns devilish, I have a feeling he knows the effect he has on me. “Can I kiss you, Ivy? Really kiss you?”
Unable to speak, I give my head a jerky nod. With my hand still clasped in his, he closes the distance between us and presses his lips to mine.
I have a moment to register how chaste the kiss is before he pulls away, his eyes seeking mine. I can’t imagine what he sees in my expression, but whatever it is must be what he’s looking for. His hands move to cup my face, and his lips return to mine, pressing lightly before his tongue flicks out and sweeps over the seam of my mouth.
Our tongues meet and entwine. We’re still in that slow, almost experimental stage of a first kiss. I swear the way his tongue glides over mine is the most sensual thing I’ve ever experienced, especially paired with the warmth of his body and his woodsy scent filling my nostrils. It’s been way too long since I’ve had a first kiss with anyone—hell, a kiss, period—and I have to say, Hugh is knocking it out of the park.
All thoughts flee my mind as the kiss deepens and Hugh pulls me closer. A moan escapes me when he nips my bottom lip. The sound seems to do something to both of us because suddenly our gentle, exploratory kiss has turned much hungrier. His hands shift from my face to move restlessly over my back, while mine slide up his neck and into his hair.
My legs had already turned to mush and now my entire body feels boneless. When our momentum begins to take me backward, I go willingly, sighing when I hit the soft blanket. Hugh eases away to look at me. His glazed eyes fill me with a mixture of excitement and power, knowing he’s as affected by me as I am by him. I yank him to me once more, and we both let out a surprised sound when our lips mash together. Within a second, we’re back to nearly devouring each other.
Hugh hovers over me, supporting his weight on one elbow while the other hand settles on my hip. My body aches for his touch and it’s all I can do not to arch up and rub against him. And yet, in the back of my lust-befuddled mind, I respect the fact his hands are remaining in a neutral position, especially since we’re technically in a public place where anyone could come along without warning. From the way he’s clutching my hip, I suspect it’s taking effort to keep his hands from roaming, which turns me on even more.
Time passes in a blur. I have no idea whether we stay this way, tongues and limbs entwined, for minutes or hours. I’d happily remain here all day, but awareness slowly seeps in, and I realize both the ground under the blanket and the air around us are growing cooler. A shiver rolls through me. Hugh must sense it’s different from the other involuntary shudders my body has been giving, because he pulls back.
He blinks his bleary eyes a few times, and I do the same. I trace his kiss-swollen lips with my thumb and he nips at it, smiling lazily. My fingers move from his mouth over his cheeks, which are dusted now with the barest hint of a five o’clock shadow. He closes his eyes and grasps my hand, pressing his lips to my palm.
“This is my new favorite way to spend a Saturday,” he murmurs.
“Mm, me too. Too bad we won’t be able to do this again, at least not here. Maybe we could come again in the spring.”
His grip on my hip loosens and his gaze slips away from mine. Oh. Right. I guess part of the ‘no labels’ things means no planning ahead. Way to spoil the moment, Ivy.
“Never mind,” I blurt, sliding out from under him. I sit up and begin hastily collecting the containers from our picnic. My hands are shaking from embarrassment and the fact all my blood is still pooled somewhere near my core. Hugh shifts around in front of me and gently grasps both my hands in his.
“It’s not that I don’t want to make plans with you, Ivy,” he says. “I’d promise to do all sorts of things with you, fill up your entire calendar for the winter and all of spring if I could. But I don’t believe in making promises I’m not sure I can keep. I don’t want to lead you on and get your hopes up only to return to Scotland and…”
“Leave me here a brokenhearted mess, unable to go on?” The words come out more sarcastic than intended. I expect annoyance in return, for Hugh to think I’m some needy woman who would demand reassurances and attention. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t feeling a bit needy after that scorching kiss, though. And a little reassurance would go a long way right now.
“I don’t have such a high opinion of myself as that,” he says, lips twitching. “I’d never want to hurt you, though. The logical side of me knew I shouldn’t pursue you because it would be complicated, but the other side of me…” He releases one of my hands to touch my face, his fingers lingering on my cheek. “The side of me that can’t stop thinking about you…”
My heart does a little happy dance at his words. “I can’t stop thinking about you either. So if having a chance to be with you means no promises and no plans beyond Christmas, I can do that.” My voice rises the tiniest bit on the last part, making it sound almost like a question. Betrayed by my own subconscious.
“I wish things weren’t so up in the air,” he says. “I wish I could tell you for sure if I was staying or going, and suggest we date for real, see where this goes. But until I know for sure, I can’t. If this is going to be too hard, if you’re worried about developing feelings or truly being left a ‘heartbroken mess’ as you so eloquently put it…” He pauses, giving me a cheeky smile that makes me laugh weakly. “Then maybe we should stop right now. Let today be a one-time thing and remain friends.”
Friends. Knowing what it’s like to be kissed by him, I think it’s a little late for that. And yet I also know myself well enough to discern it won’t take long to begin developing feelings for Hugh. To want more from him than just casual dating and maybe even hooking up.
Bridget says I’m a romantic with dreams of a fairytale-like romance. Being swept off my feet. That might be true, but it’s not like I have a line of suitors waiting to do said sweeping or anything else for that matter. Maybe I don’t need grand gestures and romance, or maybe that’s meant to come later and I should learn to live in the moment. The moment is looking pretty damn good with a gorgeous Scotsman looking at me imploringly and waiting for a response.
“What if we agreed to take things one day at a time?” I say. “Less than a couple, but more than friends.”
He lets out a huff of air that might be a laugh. “I was hoping you wouldn’t call my bluff and say we should just be friends. I don’t think I could bear not being able to kiss you.” And kiss me he does, until my head is spinning once again.
This kiss lasts only a fraction of the length of our last one. It’s probably a good thing, because I might have ended up wrestling him to the ground and having my way with him. The man knows how to kiss; I’ve never been so turned on just from kissing, and it makes me wonder what other magical things Hugh can do with his tongue.
We gather the remnants of our picnic and pack everything back into Hugh’s bag. A secret smile passes between us as we head out, skipping the trail we climbed up in favor of the less steep path. Hugh takes my hand, and after a few minutes of walking in silence, says casually, “If day by day is too difficult, you could quit your job and come to Scotland with me.”
I burst out laughing, the sound startling woodland creatures who haven’t tucked themselves away for hibernation yet. Hugh starts chuckling along with me, which, paired with the light way he spoke assures me he was kidding. Because of course he was kidding. The notion is ludicrous. We barely know each other. “I’ll keep that in mind,” I say. “Always good to have options, right?”
He squeezes my hand, but doesn’t say anything else until the path narrows and he suggests I go ahead so I can set the pace like before. My hand slips from his and I give him an absent smile as I take the lead. I attempt to keep my thoughts blank except for focusing on the trail. My mind begins to wander, though, first to what Hugh said a minute ago and then to our pre-makeout conversation about my job.
The thing is, I’ll likely end up staying at Quest. It pays well, has good benefits, and Bridget is there. It’s different now that she’s my boss, but since she climbed the corporate ladder, there are times when the only face-to-face I get with her is at work. Lots of people don’t love their jobs, yet they continue to go every day because they need to make a living. I’ll just have to find some fulfilling hobbies to make up for not being passionate about my work anymore.
Maybe I will take up hiking. This has been invigorating. I have a feeling part of it has to do with the company, but I could do this on my own. At the very least I could start walking until the weather turns bad. Who knows, I might become one of those people who actually enjoys physical activity. If that was the case, I could look into getting proper boots or maybe even snowshoes so I could keep walking through the winter.
I’m so busy contemplating my need to find things that will give me a renewed lust for life, I don’t see the sudden dip in the trail. I step right into it, twisting my ankle. My balance wavers and I tip over, hitting the ground hard. The momentum of the fall carries me forward and I roll partway down the hill, landing splayed out face-first in the dirt.
“Oh god,” I moan. This would be a great time for the earth to open up and swallow me whole. “Ohhh shit,” I moan louder as the pain begins to register, first in my ankle, followed by my knees.
Hugh skids to a stop beside me, dropping his backpack in the dirt near my head. He crouches at my side, his warm hand landing lightly on my back. “Are you all right, love? Can you move?”
I shift my body tentatively, limb by limb. Nothing seems to be broken, although my right ankle is starting to throb. “Please tell me we’re actually still at the top of the hill and I fell asleep and I’m having a nightmare,” I mutter into the dirt that’s way too close to my face.
Hugh makes a sound I think is a stifled laugh. I don’t look at him to verify. “I’m going to help you sit up, okay? Tell me if anything hurts and I’ll stop.” He rolls me gently to my side and eases me into a sitting position, murmuring, “Easy does it,” as we go. Once I’m sitting up, he shifts around in front of me and dusts some leaves and dirt off my shirt before meeting my eyes. “Okay?”
“My ankle,” I say in a wobbly voice. It doesn’t hurt bad enough to be broken. At least I hope. I ache all over, but I’m more embarrassed than anything. Hugh asks which ankle, and I point to the right one. He plunks down in the dirt beside me, lifting my foot onto his lap with one hand while pulling his backpack closer with the other.
With slow, steady movements, he works my shoe off and gently prods my ankle. I suck in a breath and he winces in sympathy, meeting my eyes briefly before returning his gaze to my foot. His rough hands inch over my skin, pressing here and there.
“Not broken,” he says. “Likely sprained. I’ll wrap it and we’ll head to the hospital.”
“No, no, not the hospital,” I plead. I hate hospitals. At the mere mention of it, my body floods with panic and my mind fills with memories of the aftermath of my parents’ car accident, and then years later sitting with Bridget and her mom when Mr. Higgins was brought in.
Hugh’s eyebrows lower further as he studies my face. Finally, he reaches into his bag and roots around, eventually pulling out a tensor bandage.
“That thing really is like a TARDIS,” I say, hoping to distract him from further thoughts of the hospital. “What else do you have in your bag of tricks?”
He hands it over and I peer inside. What looks like a homemade first aid kit is lying on top. I inspect the contents while Hugh wraps my ankle, his big hands surprisingly quick and gentle. After securing the bandage, he lifts my pant leg and runs his hands up my leg and over my knee. I say a silent prayer of thanks to whoever might be listening for the fact I shaved my legs this morning. He does the same to the other leg, and for a fraction of a second while his hands glide up my leg, I forget about the pain in my ankle.
“You’ll likely have some bruises pop up in interesting places over the next few days,” he says. “I’d still feel better if we went to the hospital, but if you insist, we’ll skip it. It’s swelling a bit now, which is normal. Just keep an eye on it, make sure you don’t lose motion in it. Maybe make an appointment with your family practitioner if you have one.”
“I do. He’s great,” I say quickly, glad he’s not pressing the hospital issue. “I’ll call Monday and I’m sure his receptionist will squeeze me in.”
“Okay then.” He opens a small packet of painkillers from inside his kit and hands me a bottle of water. Once I’ve swallowed the pills, he gets to his feet. In one swift motion, he hooks his hands under my armpits and hauls me to my feet. “Now. Shall I give you a piggyback the rest of the way?”
A slightly hysterical-sounding laugh escapes me. “I’m sure I can walk.”
“I’m sure you can too, but I think the sooner you get off that ankle the better.” He peels my backpack off me and stuffs it into his own bag before securing the whole thing to my back. He turns and kneels in the dirt with his back to me. “Hop on.”
“Hugh. This is nuts.” I suddenly wish I were anywhere else right now. With his Boy Scout tendencies, I wonder if there’s anything in his bag we could use to fashion a toboggan of sorts that I could sit on and he could pull me. Anything would be better than climbing onto his back, wrapping my legs around his waist, and having him carry me all the way down the hill to his car.
He sighs. It’s quiet, but the forest is too, so I hear it easily. I’m sure he doesn’t want to haul my ass down this hill any more than I want him to. “I really don’t think you should be walking. This is the safest way for me to carry you because it leaves my arms free for balance.”
“Balance is good. Balance means we don’t both end up in a heap at the bottom of the hill.”
“One spill is enough for today,” he agrees. “Now come on. Up you get.”
I consider making a joke about mounting him, but stop myself before the words leave my mouth. Once I’m situated on his back, he stands with ease. He shifts me around a bit and I clutch his shoulders in a death grip until we’re settled and he starts walking. After a few minutes, I say, “Hugh?”
“Hmm?”
I hesitate, not sure I really want to know the answer to my question. “Did you have to try not to laugh when you saw me go ass over teakettle down the hill?”
He inhales deeply, then clears his throat. “No. Course not. Wasn’t the least bit funny. All I could think of was making sure you were okay.” The way he clears his throat again makes me think he’s trying not to laugh. I suppose I can’t blame him.
It doesn’t take nearly as long to reach the bottom of the hill as it took to climb it. Thankfully, Hugh was right and this trail wasn’t as steep as the one we took to the top. He gets me situated in the backseat of his vehicle with my foot propped on a folded blanket. On the way home, he asks one more time if I want to go to the hospital, and I assure him I’m fine. The pills he gave me kicked in a while ago, reducing the pain to a dull ache.
Back at my apartment building, Hugh pulls his car into a visitor parking spot. With my arm looped around his back and him supporting my weight on my right side, I manage to hobble all the way inside the building. By the time we get off the elevator on my floor and make it down the hall, I’m gasping almost as hard as I was when we reached the top of the hill this afternoon.
Outside my door, I collapse against Hugh, resting my forehead on his chest. His quiet laughter ruffles my hair as his arms encircle me in a loose embrace.
“That’s my exercise for the rest of the year.” I shift so my cheek is pressed against his chest. His heart thumps out a steady, reassuring beat. I’d stay like this for the rest of the day if my ankle wasn’t starting to throb from all the exertion.
His arms tighten around me. “I’m sorry our day ended so badly.”
“Not so badly,” I murmur. I’m suddenly exhausted; my limbs are heavy and my brain is filling with fog. I wonder if it’s the adrenaline wearing off or if the pills Hugh gave me were stronger than I’m used to. Either way, I feel like I could sleep for a week. “I had fun except for that whole…” I move my hand in a rolling motion, and Hugh laughs again.
“I had fun too.” His words are followed by warm lips on my forehead. I tilt my head up and his lips come down on mine. The kiss is soft and sweet. If I had more energy, I’d wrap my arms around his neck and pick up where we left off earlier.
I’m contemplating asking him inside when the door opens.
“Oh. Oh.” Celia’s eyes are wide as they move from Hugh to me and back again. “Thought I heard something. Didn’t realize it was you two. Don’t mind me, I’m not here.” She ducks back inside, practically slamming the door behind her in her haste.
The moment I meet Hugh’s eyes, we both dissolve into laughter. We return to our original position of my cheek on his chest and his arms around me. The rumble of his laughter leaves me with what I’m sure is a goofy smile on my face even after my own giggles have subsided.
“You should get that ankle elevated with some ice,” he says. “Shall I come inside and help you?”
I’m momentarily distracted by my attempts not to swoon at the way he says ‘shall I’ in that deep, rumbly voice. “I think I can manage.” As much as I enjoy his company, he doesn’t deserve to be subjected to Celia’s snark. “Thanks, though.”
“If you’re sure. I’ll call you later to check in, okay?” He waits for my nod, then kisses me quickly. He swoops back in to kiss me a second time as he reaches past me to open the door.
I thank him again for everything and limp inside. Celia is in the kitchen getting a glass of water. She jumps when the door closes, whipping around to face me.
“I’m sure I can find somewhere else to spend the night if he wants to come in,” she says, moving around the counter and heading for the hall that leads to our bedrooms.
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her. “I wouldn’t expect you to leave for the night. Plus I hurt myself on the hike anyway.”
“Oh.” Her gaze moves to my wrapped ankle and the shoe I’m carrying. Her expression doesn’t change. “Okay. Well…” She motions over her shoulder and starts down the hall again.
I want so badly to make a sarcastic remark. I’m fine, thanks for asking. It’s not broken. I’m not sure which is more bruised, my knees or my pride after taking a dive down the hill. Bridget would be falling all over me right now, hugging me, getting me ice, asking what she could do to help.
Longing for my best friend hits me so hard it brings tears to my eyes. I suddenly feel like a lost little girl, desperate for a bit of comfort and maybe even some coddling. I swallow all my possible responses and instead say, “We need to talk about yesterday.”
Celia waves a dismissive hand over her shoulder. “Not right now, Ivy.”
My whole body deflates when I hear her bedroom door close. “You’re lucky I can’t chase after you,” I mutter.