“Oh. My. Gosh. I don’t think I’ve been here since I was in college. It was with a big group of friends.” I all but press my nose to the windshield of Garret’s Maserati Levante Trofeo and stare at the sign welcoming us to Catalina State Park. “I was a senior.  As soon as we finished our last exam we borrowed a huge fifth wheel camper from Tina’s parents and drove it up here. We spent the weekend celebrating the end of our college life. It was wild.”

“You’re ahead of me.” Garret slips the Trofeo into a parking space near the visitor’s center and turns the engine off. He slants me an amused glance. “I’ve never been here.”

I gape at him. “Really? Not at all?”

He shakes his head and unclips his seatbelt. “Not once. I’ve driven past it a few times and thought about stopping, but it never seems to happen.”

I undo my seatbelt and slide out of the Maserati. “So what made you decide to come today?”

I open the back door and grab Harlan’s leash just before he jumps out. The only thing he likes better than going on a car ride is a new adventure.

“I don’t really know.” Garret walks around the front of the burgundy Maserati and watches as I get Harlan under control. “Like you said, it’s a nice day. The dog needed to take a walk, we have a few things that need to be discussed, and this is a dog friendly place. Seemed like this is a great place to spend a few hours while killing multiple birds with a single stone.”

After a few minutes of good natured arguing, we decide to take the Birding Trail, which is a mile-long loop. According to the park ranger we spoke to, it will take us through three different habitats and we should see a really nice selection of native birds. Best of all, it is one of the only trails in the park where horses aren’t allowed, so I don’t have to worry about Harlan rolling in a pile of horse manure or trying to chase after them.

“Okay.” Garret bounds out of the visitors center. A broad grin spreads across his angular face as he makes his way to the picnic table where Harlan and I are waiting for him. A plastic bag swings from one wrist. He digs into the bag and holds a small, thin book aloft. “The guy in the gift shop swears that this is the best guide available when it comes to birding. Apparently, it not only provides images of the types of birds we’ll find on the trail, but also some basic information about what makes each species unique.”

“Great.” I pick up the nylon backpack that Garret brought from home and remove take the plastic water bottles and collapsible dog dish he’d just bought at the gift center into the.

Garret takes the backpack from me and “Garret slides the straps up his arms and hooks the them on his shoulders. “And the book isn’t the only one thing I bought. Look what else I found.” Once again, he plunges a hand into the back pocket of his jeans and withdraws a slim pair of binoculars.  They’re so tiny that his hand dwarfs them. “Thought these would come in handy so I bought a pair for each of us.”

“Thank you.” I take the binoculars from him and hook the long strap around my neck. The sheer amount of effort he’s already put into what’s supposed to be a quick walk warms my heart. I tap my finger against the plastic as an idea takes shape. “Want to play a game?”

Garret’s eyes narrow. “What kind of game?”

“Let’s see who spots the most bird species. The loser owes the winner twenty bucks.”

“You’re on.”

We’re halfway around the looped birding trail before the conversation finally turns to the issue that has been bothering me since I first received the text offering to help me with my … problem.

“I’d really like to know why you decided to help me. You said that even when your wife was alive and active on the No O site, that you didn’t do much counseling, and that when you did, you worked with men. I’m wondering what changed. Why me?”

We walk several more yards before Garret finally speaks.

“I don’t really know. I’ve seen you around the apartment building and always liked the way you handled yourself. I guess I wanted to make sure you’re happy with all aspects of your life.” He slants me a sideways glance. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Not from where I’m standing.” I chew on the inside of my cheek and try to decide whether I should ask him the question that’s been really bothering me, the one that keeps me up at night. “How’d you even find out about me and the No O website? Do you have the site rigged with alarms and what not that go off each time someone reads through the content?”

“No,” Garret chuckles. “Nothing like that.”

“Then how’d you do it?” I demand.

“I’m one of Many Miles Auto Part’s silent partners. You didn’t know it, but I was watching the teleconference you had with them.”

Heat floods my face. “That explains everything.” Another thought occurs to me. “You’re a silent partner? And you own the apartment building—”

“Look!” Excitement colors Garret’s voice as he points with one hand, the other fumbling with the guide book. “On that velvet mesquite tree. It’s a …” He flips through the pages. “Northern Harrier.” His eyes roam down the page, reading the text that accompanies the photo. “They’re rodent eaters who can range as far as 100 miles a day while searching for food. Apparently, they’re also called marsh hawks because one of their preferred roosts are in salt marshes. They’re considered North America’s most agile hawks.” Garret takes another peek at the bird. “Based on the coloring, this is a lady hawk.”

He tucks the guidebook in his back pocket and continues looking at the bird. “If I’m counting correctly, that means I’ve managed to spot eight species and you’ve spotted six.”

I roll my eyes. “Not that you’re bragging or anything.” When I spotted a Northern Mockingbird just a few minutes into our walk, and then bragged about being the first to see and identify a bird, I hadn’t realized I was also tapping into Garret’s competitive side. “Next time we walk the dog together, the rules are going to be different. It’s going to be who can identify the most birds without using the guidebook.” Too bad I didn’t think of that sooner, since I am much more up on Arizona’s native birds than Garret is. I’ve only had to consult the book once. He has for each bird he’s spotted.

Clutching Harlan’s leash with one hand, I lift the binoculars with the other, and peer through them, scanning the local vegetation.

“I don’t see it.”

“Here.” Garret moves directly behind me. His body heat and the scent of his after-shave envelope me as he gently places a big hand on either side of my skull. I hold my breath as he rotates my head. My heart pounds. The only thing I can think of is his closeness. The memory of the impulsive kiss we shared last night floods my mind, chasing all other rational thought away.

I swallow, hard. The only thing I want to do right now is turn around and press my body and my lips to his, recreating that precious moment we shared in the hallway last night.

“There.” Garret’s voice is a low whisper in my ear. “Now do you see it?”

See what? Ah, yes. His bird.

Feeling just a bit shaky, I focus my attention back on my binoculars and look through the glass. It takes a second, but finally I find the hawk that caught Garret’s interest. It’s perched on one of the small tree’s upper branches, casually preening its chocolate brown feathers.

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.

“Not as beautiful as you.”

Garret’s voice is low, it sends shivers racing down my spine. Something warm, lovely, and unfamiliar envelopes my heart.

Garret’s hands slide down my neck, cupping my shoulders.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, I turn to face him.

“Garret,” I breathe out, my voice every bit as soft as his was.

Our eyes lock, tension swirling around us. My knees shake as I anticipate him bending his head and claiming my mouth with his own. Instead he jerks back, moving away from me as if I’m a plague carrier.

He stumbles backwards several steps before finally coming to a stop. Wide eyed, he stares at me while his thumb frantically rubs at his wedding ring.

“I’m—” He swallows. “I’m sorry, Erin. I don’t know what happened right there. I just got caught up in, I don’t know, the excitement of the moment or some damn thing. I swear, it won’t happen again. Okay?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask.

His head bobs up and down. “Yeah. I am. And I really didn’t mean for that to happen. I want us to be friends. I’m not pushing for anything else.”

“Friends sounds good.” I smile tightly at him before turning away to hide the sudden burst of pain that’s radiating from my heart.

Friends are good, but in this case friend and sex coach just isn’t enough. While I’m not sure exactly what I want, there’s a spark between Garret and me, something that’s brighter and more intense than anything I’ve ever experienced before. Something that goes far deeper than mere friendship. Too bad Garret doesn’t want to explore it as badly as I do.