Chapter 13

 

On Sunday morning, Flynn opened his front door to Drake standing on his porch, holding two styrofoam cups of coffee. Big Brother raised his eyebrows when Flynn hesitated.

“Sorry.” He pushed open the screen to let him in. “Everything okay?” Drake hadn’t popped over for a visit since... Hell. Since Heather died. Cade’s fiancée, Avery, had been able to get him out and about more, but Drake was obviously still clinging to isolation.

Drake handed him one of the cups. “You tell me.”

Damn. If his big brother suspected something was wrong, Flynn was screwed. He sighed and jutted his chin toward the kitchen. They walked out onto the back deck and collapsed into Adirondack chairs.

Flynn sipped his coffee and stared out at the yard. A thin riverbed wove through the thick copse of trees, glittering in the sunlight. The scent of pine and damp grass mingled with late spring rain that had fallen last night. The temperature was mild, perfect for a hike with Gabby soon.

The reminder had him closing his eyes and running a hand through his hair.

Drake tapped his arm to get his attention. “What’s going on? You’ve been off all week.”

Gabby had said she’d wanted to keep things quiet, but Flynn figured Drake didn’t count. He’d always been able to talk to his brothers about most anything, and it wasn’t like Drake was going to post this conversation to Facebook. He needed to talk about it. What he’d been doing sure wasn’t working to settle his conscience.

He set his cup aside and faced the yard again. “I kissed Gabby.” After a few beats, he looked at his brother and frowned when nothing but white teeth flashed him through Drake’s grin. “What in the hell are you smiling about?”

Drake shrugged. “About time, man.”

Flynn’s heart started to pound and he had no clue if it was from excitement or anger. “What does that mean?” Drake owned a third of their clinic. At the very least, he should be concerned about a disruption in The Force.

Drake put his cup down by his feet to sign and speak simultaneously as if what he was going to say would come straight from the Obi-Wan handbook. “It means you’ve been joined at the hip since kindergarten and have been fending off your attraction to her since you realized she had breasts.”

Screw it all to hell. Flynn sucked in a humid breath. Was he made of transparent glass? He shook his head in answer because it was all he had as a response.

Drake merely lifted his brows, shit-eating grin still in place. Four years since Heather had died, and Flynn missed his brother’s smile enough to concede. A little.

“Don’t say Gabby and breasts in the same sentence.”

Drake laughed. “Okay. Should we discuss her baby blues or her long legs or her...?”

Flynn growled.

“Right. Breasts, then. She has them.”

Flynn gave him the best shut-it-or-die expression he had in reserve as images of Gabby’s curves floated before his mind. Not. Helping.

“What did Gabby think of the kiss?”

Flynn ran a hand down his face. “She wants to...date.”

“And you don’t?” When Flynn didn’t respond, Drake dipped his chin. “Why? Because you’re best friends and seeing her naked might unravel that bond?”

Hell squared. He closed his eyes, but...nope. Visions of Gabby underneath him in nothing but skin bombarded his brain. The breath stalled in his lungs. When he opened his eyes, Drake’s wry expression indicated he was mocking him.

“Did it ever occur to you she’s the best person for you? No games, no doubts about whether she can hack being with a deaf guy?”

Flynn stilled, part out of shock Drake picked up on his lifelong insecurity, and partly because...no. He hadn’t thought of that. He’d been so wrapped up in everything that could go wrong he hadn’t seen much else. To give his hands something to do besides shake, he picked up his coffee and took a sip.

Drake stood. “I’m out. Give the dating thing a whirl.” He stepped to the patio door and turned. “Breasts.” With that parting shot and a told-you-so smile, Drake left.

Flynn slumped and checked his watch, his knee bouncing in restless energy. Gabby had picked the best “first date” for them in going on a hike. They wouldn’t have to hang around wondering what in the hell to do and he wouldn’t have to question how close to sit to her or whether it was okay to hold her hand. They’d be in constant motion.

He leaned his head back. Gabby may be his best friend and he may have known her for years, but he didn’t know how to date. He’d had a couple girlfriends in high school and college, but nothing lasting. The past few years had amounted to hookups on occasion. Namely, how was he supposed to date someone he knew everything about?

Shaking his head, he went inside. Grabbing a backpack, he shoved a few water bottles and granola bars inside along with a couple treats for Fletch, and then whistled for the dog. Gabby had the satellite phone and tranquilizer gun with their vet supplies in case they encountered wildlife. She’d be bringing it as usual. He checked to make sure a first-aid kit was in the side pouch as the dog strode in from the bedroom.

“Hike?”

The dog tilted his head as if to say meh.

“Go see Gabby?”

Fletch danced in circles.

“You’re predictable.”

Gabby had wanted to meet at the trail, so he headed directly there. The small lot was empty when he arrived. This early on a Sunday, most people were still asleep or church-going. At least he and Gabby would have some time alone. He got out and leaned against the trunk to wait, Fletch at his heels.

Was he supposed to kiss her hello? Hug her? He thought back to their usual encounters, but that didn’t help. Nothing felt normal about today now that they’d put a label on things. Like throwing natural and twenty years out the window.

She pulled in a few moments later and exited her car. He smiled at her leggings and too-big Oregon State sweatshirt. One she’d stolen from him last year. It went past her knees. She had her hair up in a high ponytail and not a stitch of makeup. Now there was his Gabby, not the dolled-up version from the Spring Fling.

He scratched his jaw. “Tell me again why I couldn’t pick you up.” Seemed stupid when they lived less than a mile from each other.

“Because I always drive myself on a first date. It’s my back-up plan in case things don’t work out or I need to escape quickly.” Her mischievous grin hit him square in the solar plexus. She gave adorable new meaning.

He sighed, feigning disinterest. “And you think you’ll need escape from me?”

She played coy and shrugged, then turned to greet the dog. Leading Fletch to a patch of grass, she knelt and scratched his ears. In seconds, they were rolling on the grass, playing. Sunlight hit her caramel hair and face, bathing her in soft hues and illuminating her eyes from navy to cerulean. Fletch pinned her and she laughed.

Flynn rubbed the ache in his chest, unable to look away.

When she made her way back over to him, he struggled for something to say other than she’d just leveled him. Again. “How were your dates this weekend?” Well, hell. Not that.

Her lips twisted. “Mike only speaks in third person. Yeah,” she said at Flynn’s shock. “He invited me to go to third base with the offer of a home run back at his apartment. Which is above his parents’ garage.”

Was he an asshole for being relieved? He pressed his lips together to avoid laughing and failed. “What about the other guy? Saturday night?”

The smile left her face in point three seconds. “That was a blind date courtesy of my sister. He was seventy years old.”

Flynn straightened and crossed his arms. What in the hell was wrong with Rachel?

Gabby shook her head. “The guy was so embarrassed until I told him I wanted to meet because I had a lot of friends his age. I set him up with a few gals from the senior center. God, Flynn. I felt terrible she did that. We had dinner and a nice chat. I didn’t want to just walk out, you know?”

Flynn ground his molars. “I hope you chewed her out.”

“Oh, I so did. And then I told Mom.”

He laughed. “Good girl. Can I be honest and say I’m glad neither worked out?”

Her expression softened into aw, shucks. “You can totally say that.”

They needed to get moving or he was going to pull her into his backseat and kiss her senseless. He glanced around and jerked his chin, indicating the trail. “You ready?”

She held out her hand. He stared at it.

Her smile started in her eyes long before it hit her mouth. “It’s okay to hold hands on a first date.”

Damn, she slayed him. He took the satellite phone and tranquilizer gun from her bag, shoved them in his, shouldered the backpack, and tossed hers in the trunk. Then he took her hand and laced their fingers. She squeezed his and they were off.

They were immediately swallowed by cypress trees for which the trail got its name, and under a canopy of sequoia where the temperature dropped ten degrees. The base of the redwoods were wider than the two of them together, making him think of her as a tiny pixie in a gigantic forest. Peat moss mingled with pine to create a fresh, clean scent that settled the last of his nerves.

Relaxed, he walked with her, holding her hand like they’d done this a thousand times, Fletch at their heels. They were a mile deep when the incline narrowed. He let her go ahead of him, lest she slip, and climbed the rocky soil that would lead to her favorite view. It was damn near close to his, too, second only to the clearing by the bluff overlooking the Pacific.

She stopped at the top by an outcropping of boulders where the canopy ended, and streams of sunlight hit her from every angle. On impulse, he grabbed his cell from his pocket and snapped a picture of her while her back was to him before he legged the last few steps to stand beside her.

“God, I love this spot.”

“Me, too,” he signed, eyes only for her.

One of the greatest things about her was her ability to appreciate everything. Didn’t matter what it was, grand or small, she found beauty in it all. Could be a scene he’d seen a thousand times and had taken for granted, and she’d make it seem like the first time he’d opened his eyes. In a world where people rarely stopped long enough to breathe in what was around them, Gabby found the details.

She slid him a side-glance, lips curved in amusement. “Look at the view.”

“I am.” But, to appease her, he forced his gaze off her and turned toward the cliff ledge.

Panorama spread out before him, shrouded in a fine mist of fog. To his left, he could scarcely make out the ocean in the distance around the bend, and to his right, the wall of the southern-facing Coast Range jutted rock and shallow ledges of spruce and foxtail pine.

“It’s so quiet.” She glanced at him and narrowed her eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. It is quiet. You can’t hear anything with your actual ears, but you can feel certain sounds. Don’t you feel the stillness?”

She was right, completely right, but he couldn’t wipe the smile from his face to save his life. She knew him, knew almost what it was like to be deaf since she’d inserted herself so deep into learning about the disability years before. She was in tuned to him and his nuances, and as comfortable as he was with her, she still had the capability of shocking the shit out of him with moments like this.

She sighed. “Nothing but the sound of nature. I wish you could hear it, compare it to town noises. It’s different.” Climbing up on a flat boulder, she turned toward him and sat, her legs stretched out in front of her.

He retrieved a treat for Fletch from the pack and used a hand motion to tell the dog to stay. He followed her suit and scaled the boulder, tucking a wild strand of hair behind her ear after he’d settled. “Describe it to me.”

She blinked. “Describe nature sounds?”

Nodding, he pressed his hand over her heart and lightly thumped. “That’s what bass feels like from music. Now, tell me about the...quiet.”

She straightened and crossed her legs, scooting closer until they were knee to knee. “Well, when you first leave the city, it’s kind of like a vacuum.” She pressed her palms to his ears, creating pressure. “It takes awhile to adjust to the lack of noise.”

He nodded his understanding.

“Then, when you’re away for a bit, little things compute like small animals scurrying.” She wiggled her fingertips across the back of his neck, sending goose bumps over his skin. “From up here, there’s a faint sound of water trickling from the river.” She zigzagged her fingers across his chest.

He grinned. “Go on.” He liked this game. Not only was he getting her gist, but he liked her hands on him even in a nonsexual way.

“The ocean is a roar when you’re close, but at a distance, it’s more like a shush.” She brought her fingers up to lightly brush his shoulders. “There’s a crackling noise when the wind hits the leaves, a whir.” Her fingertips traced the shells of his ears.

His heart stuttered behind his ribs and then caught rhythm, fast and insistent. His weak spot was his neck and his ears. One touch, lick, or kiss, and he was semi-hard. Every molecule inside his body became increasingly aware of her closeness, her caress. His skin heated and his hands itched to touch her in return, show her what it felt like relying on that sensory over the others.

“Wind against rock, or near the mountain, is a little different.” She combed her fingers through his hair and gently tugged, sending a bolt of electricity straight from his scalp to his groin.

He lost sight of what she’d said next when he closed his eyes, just for a moment, to savor her touch. When he lifted his heavily drugged lids, her blue gaze locked onto his mouth as if she were having a hard time focusing as well. He had to concentrate on breathing because somehow he’d forgotten the simple act.

Every. Damn. Time. She knocked the wind out of him and brought him to his knees with one look.

“Thunder is the best part.” Her gaze drifted from his mouth to his eyes, hers dilated nearly black with desire. She unclenched the short strands at his nape and set her hands on his knees, never unlocking her gaze from his. Slowly, she slid her hands up his thighs, inching closer to the promise land; and he decided breathing was overrated. A bead of sweat trailed down his back.

But then she stopped suddenly short of the target and removed her hands. “That’s what thunder sounds like. Loud, like the blood rushing through your ears, heart pounding, and then an abrupt nothing, leaving an echo in its wake.”

He never wished for a storm so bad in all his existence. Thunder? He’d show her thunder. And lightning.

Cupping the back of her head, he brought her mouth to his. Searing heat assaulted him the instant her lips met his and parted. Yes, this. Kissing her was like discovering unchartered territory and coming home in the same breath.

Without hesitation, she framed his jaw with her hands and wove her tongue against his. Soft, pliant. She rose to kneel between his legs, thrusting his head back and causing their chests to crash.

To hold onto something, he gripped her ponytail with one hand and fisted her sweatshirt with the other. He decided against the latter and drove his hand under her shirt to splay his fingers over the smooth expanse of her back, nudging her closer yet.

It was no use, this reason thing. He gave it his best effort. The ground dropped out and he fell, headfirst into oblivion.

She kept pace with him, frantic openmouthed kisses that bordered on desperate and shared retail space with endearing. He explored her mouth until nothing went unconquered and he repeated the process. Her scent of honey collided with the pine and seawater in the air, her warm skin a contrast to the cool breeze off the mountain. So soft, her every curve fit against his planes perfectly.

Nipping his lower lip, she said something against his mouth, her lips forming a word. Or several words.

He went rigid. For the second time, he’d gotten so wrapped up in her he hadn’t paid attention to her signals. Pulling back, he looked at her. Lips swollen, eyes dazed. She seemed fine. He swore she’d spoken, though.

He cleared his throat and, unwilling to move his hands just yet, used his voice to grate out, “What?”

She brushed her nose with his. Smiled. Stole what felt like a good chunk of his heart. “I said wow.”