Kiss and Don't Tell(11)

“And there’s no way I’m going to let you go out there alone. Not only do you not know where you’re going, but it’s probably slippery, and you might need help getting around.”

She stands tall after tying her shoes and puts her hands on her hips. “You think I’m going to fall on my ass?” There’s a sassy tone in her voice that makes me smirk.

“With that kind of attitude, I very well might be wrong.”

“You are.” She lifts her backpack, but I snag it from her hand and slip it over my shoulder. “I can carry that.” Her protest falls flat.

“I know you can. So can I.” I walk to the front door and open it for her, but she just stands in the living room, staring at me. “Are you staying now?” I ask.

“No, but I don’t like to be bossed around.”

A snort comes from Holmes at the kitchen table. He’s getting way too much joy out of this.

“I can see that, but remember, I’m doing this out of the kindness of my own heart, so maybe you just follow along.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Trust me, you need it.” I head out the door and hope that she follows behind me. When I hear her irritated footsteps pound behind me, I smile to myself. The door shuts and I turn to find her standing with her arms crossed, her jacket clutched in one arm.

The sun is already rising, making it much easier to see than last night, and I notice the moment she takes in the sights for the first time. Her eyes widen in awe and her mouth pops open slightly. The tension in her shoulders from our small dispute eases.

The sun peeks through the tall, whispering pines, which stretch what seems like a mile high. Moss blankets the ground and in the far distance, the beautiful Rocky Mountains in all their glory, stretching across the landscape, majestic and the perfect backdrop for a peaceful vacation.

“Told you it was different in the daylight.”

“Wow.” Her eyes travel up the height of the trees. “It’s gorgeous here. No wonder why you like to come here for relaxation.” She’s silent for a second and then says, “Listen to that, just the sounds of the birds chirping, a creek bubbling in the background, nature surrounding you. It’s incredibly peaceful.”

I nod toward the back of the house. “You should see the backyard. Taters set it up so there’s an outdoor kitchen and patio, but in the far back, past the lawn games, there are different seating areas. There’s an egg chair—that’s what he calls it—and from where I’ve positioned it, you get the perfect view of Cascade Mountain. Breathtaking.”

“I can imagine.”

She seems to have calmed down now so I take advantage of that. “Come on, I’ll help you find your car. I run these roads all the time. Give me a direction and I think I could find your car.”

She sighs and walks up to me, succumbing to my offer. “You run while on vacation?”

“Yeah. I like exercising. Helps me clear my head.”

“Maybe I should have that kind of attitude. Help me shed down these thighs of mine.”

That would be a detriment. I like thick thighs.

“Nah, you’re good,” I say casually, and to change the subject so I don’t say something stupid—like, I like thick thighs—I ask, “Do you remember what direction you came from?”

She pauses and takes in the driveway of the cabin and then points at the mailbox.

“I remember almost running into that mailbox and I was walking downhill, so I came from the left.”

I nod. “That would’ve been my guess, but I wanted to make sure. Did you stay on the road?”

“Yes,” she answers. “I know that for sure—at least, I thought I was staying on the road.” She winces.

“If you weren’t on the road, you’d have tripped over logs and fallen trees. Did you trip?”

She shakes her head. “No, just slid around in mud.”

“Then we’re good.” We head up the slight incline, and because my legs are much longer than hers, I take it slow.

“You really don’t have to do this, you know,” she says softly. “But I do appreciate the help.”

“Not as if I have any plans for the day. You could’ve stayed for breakfast, though, you know. It would’ve been a breakfast of Cheez-Its and black coffee, but at least it’s something.”

She chuckles. “Although the fine dining at your place is nice, I didn’t want to impose any more than I did. I know Potato, uh, I mean . . . uh, God, I don’t even know his name.”

“Potato?” I laugh hard. “Oh shit. You mean Taters?”

“Yes, him. What’s his name?”

“Silas Taters.”

“That’s right. It’s so confusing with you guys using last names and first names, I can’t remember everybody.”

“Do you remember my name?” I ask, eyebrow raised.

“Yes.” Her cheeks turn red.

“And what is it?”

“Pacey.”

“Then you know the most important name in the house. But Potato, that’s one I’m going to keep in the back of my head.”

“Oh God, don’t tell him I said it. He already hates me.”

I scoff. “Taters doesn’t hate you. He’s just in a bad headspace right now. I’m sure he’ll feel like a dick at some point for the way he acted. He always does, then he goes on the tour of apologies.”