by Sierra Hill
“After that, I’ll just see where the day takes me. Maybe I’ll go for a hike up at Griffith Park. I guess that’s where you can get a really great view of the Hollywood sign.”
We talk for a while longer until he hears his date rustling around in the bedroom, to which Kyler says he needs to have “one more go at” before he leaves.
“How do you make it seem so easy?” I ask, sincerely curious about the intimacy of sex and the interactions between couples after the deed is done.
Kyler winks and blows me a kiss. “It’s just sex, babes. And you know my motto. ‘If it feels good, do him.’” He laughs hysterically at his own joke. “Bye, Pey-Pey. Love you, girl.”
The stream ends just as I see a hot naked man place his lips on Kyler’s cheek. My wistful sigh carries across my quiet room and I wonder if I’ll ever wake to somebody kissing me like that on a Saturday morning.
The three of us have had many discussions about sex over the past year and only Kyler and Brooklyn know the reasons why I’m still a virgin at twenty-one. My past experiences in high school and in college left me with no desire to have a connection – physical or otherwise – with anyone. And since I’ve waited this long to do the deed, I might as well be choosy with my options. As Brooklyn once said, “Find someone who gives you all the feels.”
The problem for me now, however, is finding the feels as I weave through the dating game. Because men expect a woman of my age to have experience. It’s just the way it is. And it proves to be a difficult and awkward discussion to have with someone who wants to pursue something in bed.
Like the other night with Brody. I inwardly cringe at how it felt to leave him behind like that. I didn’t want to. In that moment, I’d wished I was the woman who could just throw it all out there without a care in the world and go to bed with some random guy.
But that’s too complex for me at this point.
And I’m glad that fate stepped in and stopped it from happening.
Hooking up with your new boss is Rule #1 no-no.
Even if that boss definitely gives you all the feels.
Chapter 8
Brody
The one area where I am not my father’s son is in our viewpoints on leisure time.
Where he was a seven-day a week workaholic, I have specifically designated the majority of my Saturdays and Sundays to the outdoors and hanging with my dog, Boss.
Boss is a huge white Great Pyrenees, one of those massive mountain dogs originally bred to be Alpine region rescue dogs with whisky barrels wrapped around their collars in Switzerland. Which is kind of ironic because for the most part, Boss just likes to lounge.
I got him just after I divorced when he was just a six-week-old puppy. Talk about a chick-magnet. Didn’t matter where I took him, the women would flock to us. Boss is a fucking awesome wingman and still is because of his beauty and temperament.
Boss is chill-as-fuck. The breed is known for their Zen-like calm and one of the friendliest dogs out there, unless of course, you get in the way of his food. Then all bets are off. My boy has been a vigilant companion to me these past few years and I love spending time with him, especially when we take our weekly hikes together.
“You ready to go, big fella?” I ask, not expecting a verbal answer, but an answer none-the-less. The minute I grab his leash, Boss wags his tail vigorously and spews slobber all over the front entryway floor.
Yet another lovely quality of the breed. Due to the sheer size of their large block heads, they have big broad mouths that have a tendency to drool. I’ve come to accept this minor inconvenience and messy occurrence, but for as many women he’s gotten me an introduction with, he’s turned off just as many with this disgusting attribute.
“I’m thinking we go somewhere a little closer, today, bud. I’ve got some work to finish this afternoon. What do you say?”
Boss whines and nods his head. I swear he understands exactly what I say and communicates in his own mellow way.
Normally we’d head out to one of the less crowded and more mountainous hiking spots around Los Angeles. But my day began a bit later than expected due to a call with a Chinese distributor. Talk about an urgent dumpster fire. While we get it resolved, with the help of one of my managers, it was enough of a delay in my Saturday that we have to stay closer to home.
Thankfully, today’s forecast is cooler for this time of year and the mid-day sun shouldn’t be scorching. Another thing about Boss is that he hates the heat. He’s the reason I bought my place in Tahoe, so I could take Boss there in the winter months where he romps around in the snow like his great-great-great grandsires.
I get us situated in my Range Rover with water bottles, a safety kit, and dog treats all packed in the backseat. Boss sprawls out comfortably in the back like the chill dude he is, and I head out to our destination.
It’s a beautiful day in the L.A. area, the sun shining, and the smog overcasting an unusually thin layer, leaving only blue sky with stripes of yellow and orange peppered in the scenic view. The high today should be a balmy eighty-degrees, perfect hiking temps that will lead to a plunge in the pool later this evening.
I’ve decided to head to Griffith Park and hike up to Cahuenga Peak and Wisdom Tree. While it’s often a pretty busy destination on weekends because of the incredible views of Griffith Park and downtown Los Angeles on a clear day, we’re early enough to avoid a lot of photo-toting tourists. Plus, many of those unfamiliar with the spot don’t realize just how rugged a hike it is and turn back within ten minutes, leaving the higher elevation trails wide open.
I park the car along Hollywood Drive and Boss hops out of the back, as I clip on my hiking belt carrying two containers of water. One for me and one for Boss. Ensuring my hiking boots are tied tight, I bend over and tug at the laces as Boss gives me a gigantic, wet lick across my cheek.
“Thanks, buddy. I already washed my face this morning,” I chuckle, ruffling his big fluffy head as we begin our hike up the drive.
I love being outdoors and have always used the time to clear my head and hit the reset button. It started on a weekly basis when I was in grad school, when I was dealing with an argument with Tiffany – who by the way, did not like to be outdoors – or if I had deadline stress from one of my projects. Now the time away is needed due to the endless pressures my job dumps on me. Now, more than ever, having this escape is even more valuable and required.
Owning a company and being a good business leader is a lot damn harder than I had expected. My father always told me, “Son, running this company takes brains, shrewd business acumen and a very big set of balls,” which I thought was funny at the time, but now that I’m at the helm, I understand what he means.
Boss and I make good time, passing a handful of hikers along the way as we navigate our way up to the trailhead and meander through the first mile up the trail. We’re both pretty winded from the steep ascend and stop for a breather, Boss huffing and puffing, and slobbering as he drinks from his water bottle. The views are stunning already at this elevation, as I peruse over the park and city below.
I’ve lived in the greater Los Angeles area all my life. I went to school here, UCLA for undergrad and Stanford for grad school. It’s my home and when I’m not on the road for my job, I’m actually one of the few who do like living in this sprawling, crowded metropolis. It’s a gigantic eclectic hub of people from all walks of life. The beauty of my business is it affords me the opportunity to work with a wide range of people.
People like Peyton.
I stop the thought in its tracks and push her name out of my mind. I need to move on from my silly fascination with her. I’m infatuated with a woman who works for me and that is absolutely against the rules.
Boss laps up some more of the water and stretches out again to watch as a few lone hikers skirt past us, one of them stooping over to pat his head and coo over his majesty.
“Ready to go, bud?” I ask, giving him a tug of the leash as he ambles to his feet.
W
e head back up the trail, this time turning east on the ridge, avoiding the west trail where tourists like to visit and take selfies by the Wisdom Tree. While it is a pretty amazing view, I find it absurd to hike all the way up there for a selfie.
The terrain begins to grow rough as we head up toward Cahuenga Peak and Mount Lee. There are points along the way where we have to take it slow due to the steep and uneven ground. No one else seems to have ventured up this stretch for a while and we don’t pass a single other hiker, until we round a sharp curve and Boss goes on high alert, his head perking up as he tilts it side to side.
Aside from the soaring hawk above us, I don’t hear a thing beyond the sounds of nature, but Boss whimpers and jerks sharply on his leash, pulling me forward with this force of his momentum to keep up.
“Whoa, boy. Slow down. I don’t want either of us to get hurt.” The syllable dies on my tongue as we round the bend and I finally see a shadowy figure for which Boss was in such a hurry to find.
A woman is hunched over on a ragged boulder, one knee pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped around her shin. The sun is in my eyes and casts a dark shadow over her form, but as we close the distance, a nasty gash becomes noticeable from where I stand, blood pouring down her leg. A ball cap is pulled down low, the bill of the cap covering her face, but I already know she’s crying based on the rise and fall of her shoulders.
She doesn’t hear or see us, and I don’t want to scare her with our unannounced approach, so I stop about twenty feet from her and holler out, “Miss? Are you hurt?”
The woman lifts her head, a hand lifted to her ball cap to block the sun and I stumble back, accidentally stepping on one of Boss’s gigantic paws. He lets out a loud, painful yip and leaps away. My head spins. Confusion sets in.
Bright, azure eyes greet mine, crystalized by the tears and the glint of sunlight.
And I realize fate has a weird and bizarre sense of humor.
“Peyton?”
Chapter 9
Peyton
“Brody? What the heck are you doing here?”
I tip my head back further, using my hand over the visor to shade me from the heavy sun. Brody Jensen, the man I kissed seven days earlier and now my new boss, stands at the ridgeline in front of me like some sort of Greek God apparition.
Flanking him at his side is a gigantic white dog that could very well be the size of a Trojan horse.
“Jesus Christ, what happened to you? Are you hurt anywhere else?” Brody swears, taking stock of my mangled shin, which is split open and bleeding profusely.
And then a stern frown sets across his mouth, his lips drawing into a flat line. “What the hell are you doing out here all alone? You could’ve been seriously injured.”
This is not news to me or anything I don’t already know. I realize what I must look like from his point of view. I’m an absolute mess, with blood pouring down my leg, covering my socks and brand-new hiking boots that I spent a fortune on at the mall. Embarrassment flushes over my cheeks and neck, covering me like a weighted cloak, my face flaming hot with humiliation.
“I’m not stupid,” I snap back, forgetting for a minute that he’s my boss and I’ve already made quite a bad impression. “I realize all of that, thank you.”
I know I shouldn’t argue like a petulant child with the man that employs me and gives me my paycheck. But I need someone to last out at, even though I’m angry with myself and not Brody, although he’s getting the brunt of my frustration and fear that’s all come rushing up to the surface.
My morning started out great, my mood lifted after speaking with Kyler and I felt reinvigorated as I took off to find the street market I’d heard about. While there, I picked up a beautiful floral arrangement, some fresh vegetables from a local farmer and a brand new handmade tinted lip balm that tastes like cucumber and strawberry.
I trotted back home to put things away and changed to go for my hike. Driving in L.A. isn’t on my top ten things to do, but as long as I can keep the crazy highway driving to a minimum and only during non-peak hours, I’m fine. Shockingly, the traffic was pretty mild on my way here, and I made it to the designated parking area and trailhead the website informed me about around eleven a.m.
The trail wasn’t overly crowded, which was a nice surprise considering all the blogs I read mentioned that patience was required due to the slog of tourists. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case and I began the vigorous climb up the rocky terrain, enjoying the solitude and the warm sun kissing my shoulders and back. I’d brought a small reusable water bottle from the kitchen cupboard and a granola bar, sticking them in the pocket of my shorts for a break later on.
What I hadn’t considered, however, was the potential need to have a first aid kit with me, in the event I stumbled on some loose rocks, slipped and fell, and badly banged my shin up against a jagged rock edge.
Oopsie.
Brody glances around as if searching for something, then tells his dog to sit and stay. The dog whines, but ambles over to my right side and plops down next to me, leaning against me as if in support. I blink past hot tears, tilting my head down to look at his fluffy mass. He has the gentlest eyes and sweetest face I’ve ever seen on a dog his size and he’s slobbering all over my leg. Then with a tongue as large as my Android phone, he licks my uninjured leg, which tickles and draws a giggle from my mouth.
“Boss knock it off, you big oaf. Stop licking her.” My head whips up as Brody’s stern warning draws my attention back to him. What I find in the path leaves me speechless.
Utterly and completely speechless.
Brody has dragged his T-shirt over his head, revealing a sleek set of abs along with a masculine chest that does strange things to my lady parts. My eyes scan the dips and valleys of his chest and torso as I lick my lips in fascination, wondering what all those wavy ridges would feel like against my tongue.
Who needs a pain killer for an injury when I just found the remedy in the view of my naked boss?
Brody kneels down in front of me and I forget that my hands are still cupping around the wound. He carefully pries my fingers away as my hands drop slack to my side, while he takes a peek at the injury.
His eyes lift and lock with mine and I’m mesmerized by the gentleness that’s replaced the scowl. “May I?”
As if I’m in another world, a different galaxy, a different time and space, I have no idea what he’s asking. May he what?
Kiss me? Undress me? Touch my body unendingly? Do very bad things with me?
The answer to everything is a resounding yes.
Brody cocks his head and gives me a wave in front of my face. “Hello? Peyton, are you okay? Do you need to lie down?”
My brain flickers back to reality and I shake my head spastically. “No, no, I’m fine. And yes, thank you.”
I nod my chin to where he holds his shirt in one hand and a water bottle in the other, watching as he ever-so-carefully pours water over the wound. I hiss at the sting of pain and his hand stops on the spot.
“Sorry, I know this must hurt.” His face pinches in apologetic sympathy.
“Like a bitch,” I mumble through gritted teeth.
Then in an act of strength reserved only for the likes of Captain America, he tears off a piece of shirt, carefully and meticulously using it to wipe away the blood around the wound before he wraps it around my shin to tie it in a makeshift bandage.
Brody examines his handiwork. “There, that should hold you for now until you can get it looked at properly by a doctor. Do you think you can stand?”
And then the realization hits me hard.
Shit, I hiked up nearly three miles from the base of the mountain in rocky and steep terrain. And now I’m going to have to hike back down the same way I came in. This is gonna hurt.
I stretch my leg out and place my foot on the ground, wincing from the pain that shoots up my leg like a cannon over the bow of a ship at war. I grab at my knee, holding the area around the loose wrap that throbs viciously underneath
.
Putting on a brave face, I steel myself for more pain, biting at the inside of my cheek as I try to stand. Brody offers his hand which I accept, and he helps me stand. When I do, there’s a whoosh inside my ears, as the blood seems to pool and then rush out of my head in a mass exodus, and I feel myself begin to black out.
The next thing I know, I wake to find that my head is in the crook of Brody’s lap, the feel of soft dog fur pressed against my side, and my face positioned away from the bright blue sky. When I open my eyes, I’m greeted with the view of Brody’s crotch.
“Here, can you lift your head and take a sip of water?”
Oh my God, what have I done?
I take stock of my surroundings as I gingerly turn my head, so I’m no longer assaulted with the vision of his sexy man trail leading from his belly button and disappearing into the knot of his hiking shorts.
Brody’s soft leg hair tickles against the back of my neck. The warmth emanating from his body and from the sun’s rays cascading over my skin create a listless lethargy as I work to ease myself upright. I suck in a deep breath, breathing in the scent of his body wash and deodorant, a nice combination of springtime and manly spice. And then there’s the thick bulge that happens to be lodged against my cheek that is most definitely a male appendage.
I’m mortified by my stupidity and awkwardness and in a hurry to move, I scramble to sit up, hands seeking purchase anywhere that I can. Which happens to be his knee and thigh as I roll off to the ground in a thump.
He chuckles in surprise. “Whoa, there. I didn’t mean for you to move so fast. Take it easy. Here, let me help you.”
Brody cradles me under my arms and lifts me back up to sit on his lap, supporting the back of my head with his palm as if I were a newborn. I want to nestle in and purr like a cat at the gesture. He uncaps a bottle of water and raises it to my lips, as I take a few sips and ease back into him.