Mess with Me by Nicole Helm (4)

Chapter Four

Sam hated having people in his space. Especially people he didn’t know. Hayley could be the most unassuming visitor he’d ever had, but it grated she was here.

But she was, and he had to deal with it. He had to work. He pointed to the two hiking backpacks he had arranged on the table.

“Now, we offer different kinds of guided hikes. Some are for beginners. In this case, we usually provide the backpack and the supplies, and the cost of the guide reflects that. Some of our excursions are for the more experienced hiker, in which case, they bring their own packs. That being said, especially as you start out, you’ll only be dealing with those excursions that are for the most inexperienced people.”

Hayley still hovered by the door as though she might bolt any minute. He hoped she would.

“Have you ever hiked with a pack before?” he asked, or maybe demanded. He couldn’t quite be sure how that came out. Which wasn’t because he was a total asshole, it was just because he’d forgotten. Forgotten how to have that easy back-and-forth with someone. It had been a long time since he’d been sociable in any sort of context.

Damn, this blew.

“Um, no not really.”

It was exactly what he expected, and it shouldn’t irritate him. He did his level best to keep his response kind, which was also a struggle because he had gotten out of the habit of masking his responses to people.

He’d become something of a caricature of himself with the regulars at Mile High. They laughed at him. They rolled their eyes at him. Sometimes people even tried to provoke him. To get that patent Sam Goodall “yeti” response. It was weird to realize that now. Because he hadn’t thought of it as playing a role before.

But it wasn’t him.

Scowling down at the packs, Sam just barely resisted grunting irritably. He had to get out of his head and do his job. His head was his least favorite place to be, and he had no idea why Hayley’s presence prompted that response.

“On a basic day hike, the hikers we guide don’t need much. Sometimes nothing except water. But as guides, we carry a little bit extra for any emergencies.” He went through every item in his pack. Pulling them out, explaining to her what they were. On the rare occasion he glanced at her, she was looking wide-eyed and overwhelmed.

By the time he had everything spread out on the table, she looked downright petrified.

“Next time I’m at the office, I’ll get you the printed list,” he said, oddly feeling the need to reassure her. “I think Brandon wrote a manual at one point for some certification we had to get or something, if it would help you to have it all written down.”

She nodded emphatically and silently. He felt like a tool. Which only served to stoke his irritation higher. He began to shove the items back into the backpack, irritated with himself for being a shitty teacher and not knowing how to change that.

“Um . . .” Hayley seemed to struggle with whatever it was she wanted to say, blinking like some fearful animal too afraid to move. “I-Is there a particular order that you put them back in the pack?”

He paused for a second, because that was actually a really good question. Why hadn’t he thought to explain that? Dammit.

“Yes, there’s a certain way to distribute the weight. I think I . . .” He should’ve gotten all the written materials from the office. But he’d been so irritated that he’d been an idiot. Which meant he had to start using his brain.

He took a deep breath and let it out. “Let’s just hike today. I’ll see how adept you are on the easy hike, and once I can gauge your . . .” He trailed off because he wasn’t sure how to say physical ability without sounding incredibly insulting. At least he was getting back into the habit of worrying about not insulting her. That was a step forward. Or so he’d tell himself. “Skill level,” he finally managed to say.

She nodded, and Sam found he didn’t want to admit that he’d been the idiot who hadn’t gotten all the materials together prior to her showing up, so he flat out lied. “Lilly’s getting some stuff together for you. Sort of an orientation binder. Along with all of the employment and insurance paperwork.” Which she probably was, if he’d bothered to tell anyone today would be Hayley’s first day. But he’d been too pissy.

Seriously, he had to lock his shit down. “Consider this a test drive today. Today is a test.”

“Okay. Today is a test. Okay.” Nerves practically vibrated from every inch of her body, but she nodded resolutely, as if she was going to power through it anyway.

He couldn’t help but admire that the girl had some grit. Which he never would’ve guessed from looking at her. But mostly he tried not to look too hard at her, especially in the tight, stretchy exercise pants and the formfitting exercise shirt she was wearing.

“This will be your pack.” He patted the one he designated for her, already regretting that he would have to fit it on her.

But she was no different than any other Mile High customer. It wasn’t personal touching. Not at all. Not at all. Maybe if he thought that a few more times, he would stop feeling vaguely . . . panicked.

“Have you spent any time at this altitude?” he asked. Or demanded. Or growled.

“Some. Admittedly not a lot. My car about exploded trying to drive this high up the mountain.” She said it like it was a joke, but young women driving unsafe cars were hardly a joke.

“You should get that looked at.”

She smiled ruefully. “Unfortunately, you can’t fix old, which is the only problem with it. It serves me well, and I don’t have to use it very often because I’ve just been in Gracely working in the Gracely Caf . . .” She trailed off, then frowned. “But I guess things are different now.”

She looked perplexed and fearful, but he couldn’t deny the truth of that statement. Things were different now. For all of them.

* * *

Hayley didn’t know what to do with this man’s random pauses and silences. Whatever he got so caught up in that he forgot to talk.

It would probably be fine if they were in just about any other situation. But she was in his house, and she didn’t know how to handle being in his house and having him not talk and . . .

This was so weird and uncomfortable.

“Um . . . So I brought snacks. I don’t know how that works, but you know, I brought some.” She held out her box of granola bars. He glanced at them with—she didn’t think irritation was the right word. He’d been constantly irritated. And if he was constantly irritated, she could assume it actually wasn’t her he was irritated with. He was just a grumpy man.

His mouth did something like a sneer that he was trying to hide, maybe?

“Those are not trail appropriate.”

She frowned at her generic chocolate chip granola bars. “What’s wrong with them?”

“They’re tiny and full of useless calories. You need fruits and nuts. Things that will fill you up and give you protein.”

“But that sounds disgusting.”

He gave her one of those are you off your rocker looks, but seriously, fruits and nuts? She would have to pass.

“I’ve packed appropriate snacks. I should warn you before we start that there are bears.”

Hayley waited for the normal reassurances like They’re more afraid of you than you are of them, or If you don’t engage, they won’t engage. Or, Hey, the chances of actually seeing one are slim to none.

He offered no such reassurances. “Oh . . . okay. So there are bears. What do you do if you see one?”

“Depends on what kind.”

“I . . .”

“Main thing is, it’s very important to not ever get between a mama bear and her cubs. It’s about that time of year. And they can smell food. Bears up here aren’t usually used to human food or garbage like bears at lower elevations in the national park, but they’re still interested. Garbage can be deadly to them and us. So we have to be very careful when we eat to make sure we’re cleaning up after ourselves.”

“Okay, great. Great.” Bears. Great.

He lectured about all sorts of animals that they might run into. He was nothing like the park rangers that she’d dealt with in her life, who were quick to reassure you that as long as you followed the rules, everything would be fine. Sam’s way of talking to people seemed to suggest that death was right around the corner.

“Do you give everyone this terrible speech?” she asked, so irritated that he’d made her even more nervous than she already was, that she kind of forgot she was also scared of him.

Frowning, he looked up from the backpacks that he was fiddling with. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, when you have a group of inexperienced hikers, do you discuss all of these horrors that await them, or is that simply for my benefit?”

He raised an eyebrow at her and she wanted to cower. She wanted to say never mind and walk away. On the other hand, she wanted to do something that would eradicate that look of irritated condescension from his face. She wanted to stand up to Sam. She wanted to somehow survive his withering stares and his fear-mongering proclamations. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making her cower. Because she had a feeling that would be used against her in the future.

So, she stood her ground. And felt very strong and self-assured.

“Yes. That is the exact speech I give the hikers.”

“And none of them run screaming in the opposite direction?”

“No. They find me quite charming.” He said it so deadpan she could only stare at him wide-eyed. Was he serious? Was he that delusional to think he was charming?

“That was a joke,” he said in the same monotone.

“Ha ha?”

For the briefest of seconds she thought maybe his mouth curved, a minuscule amount but almost, almost the hint of the beginning of a smile. Then it was gone.

“We should get started.”

“Because if we don’t the bears will eat us alive and all anyone will find of us are bones?”

“No, because I have things to do. Now, the way your pack sits on your body is important.”

She nodded as he pulled one pack that looked smaller than the other off the table. He held the straps out to her so that she would slip her arms into them.

That sort of fearful, foreboding feeling was back, but she knew she had to ignore it. Being close to him, occasionally having him touch her in some professional manner was part of this job she’d agreed to. Being weird about that would just be . . . well, weird.

So, she stepped forward, possibly a little bit hesitantly, but she did it. She turned her back to him, and she slid her arms into the offered backpack.

“There are two front straps. One that goes over your chest, and one that goes around your waist. But first we have to make sure that the shoulder straps are the right length.” He didn’t say anything after that, and he didn’t come around to her front. He stood behind her, eerily silent.

She opened her mouth to say something, but he finally walked around to face her. His expression was inscrutable as he very expressly avoided making eye contact with her.

He cleared his throat. “All right, pull your straps down a little bit.” He mimicked what he wanted her to do, and she pulled the straps forward.

“Right,” he said, his voice strangely deeper and more strained than it had been. “Hold it there.” He disappeared behind her back again.

She didn’t like this at all. She didn’t like not being able to see what he was doing, she didn’t like the way she could feel his presence behind her. Ominous and scary. Oh, why was she doing this?

She should have bolted right then and there. But in the end, he tightened the straps until she no longer had to hold them in place.

He faced her again. “Pull . . .” He trailed off and scratched a hand through his shaggy dark hair. “So you want to pull the two straps at . . . at your, um, armpits and buckle them over your . . .” He cleared his throat yet again. “Parallel with your armpits.”

She wanted to laugh at the way he was stumbling over mentioning her chest, and at the fact she was pretty sure no one had ever said armpits to her that much in one conversation, but she was afraid that if she laughed, she wouldn’t be able to stop. This was so ridiculous that laughter seemed to be the only answer.

But she focused on doing what he instructed and she pulled the straps over her chest and buckled them.

Sam was expressly not looking at her, though she waited for further instruction. He offered none, staring at something behind her. Staring very, very hard.

“Okay, I’ve strapped them. Now what?” She wasn’t going to stand there all day while he was weird about her chest. Was he weird about all his hikers’ chests? Surely he should have been used to dealing with women’s bodies in this situation.

“You want to tighten it until you can feel it flush with your skin, but not so tight it’s cutting into it.”

She pulled the strap, tightening it exactly how he instructed. “How’s that?”

He muttered something under his breath. Finally his gaze moved to the strap that was situated right over her breasts. He looked quickly, then nodded firmly. “That’s right. Now do the same with the waist strap.”

She did as she was told, and this time he seemed to have no trouble looking.

“You want it a little higher up, more waist than hip.” She adjusted again, but he shook his head. “Too high. A little bit lower.” She adjusted again and he shook his head.

Frustrated at the ridiculousness of his ineffective verbal instruction, she flung her hands down to her sides. “Why don’t you just do it for me, and then I’ll know exactly where it needs to be?”

He all but visibly recoiled at her suggestion. His hands curled into fists briefly before he relaxed them.

“All right,” he said, even though he sounded anything but all right. On a visible swallow, he stepped forward and reached out to adjust her waist strap.

She was exasperated at his odd reticence, until he actually touched her. She was completely clothed, and yet something about the way his long, sturdy fingers brushed against her abdomen felt unbelievably . . . She didn’t even have a word for it.

It wasn’t friendly, and it wasn’t some random man touching her stomach. It was . . . Everything inside of her went light and fluttery. She felt unsteady on her feet, and more than a little like giggling. But she didn’t. She narrowly swallowed down that response.

He cleared his throat again. “There. That’s where it should be.”

Since she didn’t trust her voice, she merely nodded.

Sam grabbed water bottles from a line of them on his table. He shoved them into the side pockets of her pack. He then lifted his pack, which appeared a little bit bigger than hers, and put it on his back.

She had the oddest thought, wondering what his abdomen might feel like if she helped him with his waist strap.

“The trail we’re going to take is not one that we typically use for Mile High. We tend to train on it. Because it’s a little bit more secluded and not quite as wide to accommodate larger groups. But it’ll allow me to get an idea of where you’re at in terms of... ability.”

Again Hayley nodded. The way he kept saying things about gauging her ability felt a little bit condescending, but she couldn’t work up any offense. She didn’t even know if she had an ability. She just knew she wanted a job, and she wanted to resolve her relationship with the Evans brothers. Those were currently the two tenets of her life.

That and the possibility of seeing Sam’s abs.

Not on your life, she argued with her brain. There was too much at stake here, too many complications. She didn’t have the emotional energy for an inappropriate crush. That was all there was to it.