Mess with Me

by Nicole Helm

He glanced over at her. She was staring earnestly at him, and there was something in the gold of her eyes he couldn’t shake. Something about this timid girl sitting next to him made him not want to fight or yell or be mad. There was something about her that made him want to lay something at her feet.

  She’d put her hand over his hand and told him to let it out, and to let it go. He didn’t have the slightest clue how to do that. Not after nearly seven years of learning to lock it all down.

  “It usually does.” He glanced back up at the sky and traced the path of a puffy white cloud drifting in front of the craggy peaks opposite them. “I’m not sure what will anymore.”

  “Maybe instead of trying to fight the problem or pretend it isn’t there, you should face the problem. Whatever it is.”

  Maybe she had a point, but that didn’t mean he was going to vomit his problems in her direction.

  “And if you need someone to talk to . . .” She trailed off, made an odd, awkward gesture with her arm. “It’s not like I can go anywhere.”

  “I’m supposed to talk to you? About my problems?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  “I don’t know you.” And more, he was a little too intrigued at the way the exercise jacket stretched over her breasts when she shrugged.

  One point in his anger’s favor, it kept him from dwelling too much on his body’s uncomfortable reaction to Hayley.

  “Exactly. There’s something freeing about not knowing. It makes it all feel like such a fresh start.” She took a deep audible breath, and let it out. “I know you said you don’t think you can change. I’m starting to think if you want to . . . that’s all it takes. I thought I wanted to change for so long, but nothing really ever changed until I came here. When I did something brave and out of character for me. So maybe we have to do something. Even if it feels impossible. Or like it’s not us or it feels wrong. I don’t know.”

  “I’m supposed to listen to some girl who, of her own admission, doesn’t even know what she’s talking about?”

  “No, you’re supposed to confide in some girl who doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Because you’re a big, burly, grumpy man who doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about.” She smiled sweetly at the end of it, a complete antithesis to the acidity in her tone.

  Something about her words, the sharp note, the smile, the way she was offering something to him—a stranger. It was like a little ray of sunshine managed to poke through the dark. Brief and small, but a poke.

  “Touché,” he murmured, surprised to find himself feeling like smiling.

  * * *

  Sam didn’t say anything for a long while, but Hayley found herself content to sit on the grassy riverbank and soak in the bright afternoon sun. She’d burn soon if she didn’t cover up, but it felt good to drink in the warmth on this gorgeous summer day, warmer than it was up at the altitude of Sam’s cabin.

  She thought maybe, maybe, something in Sam had softened a little. Not just because he’d taken them on a heart-pounding ride down rapids that had had her squeezing her eyes shut more than once.

  No, she thought at least a little of that softening stemmed from her saying he could talk to her, even if he didn’t. The offer had mattered. Her actions had mattered.

  She was feeling darn near euphoric.

  “Have you ever lost someone close to you?” Sam asked, so quiet she thought maybe she was imagining it.

  She decided to answer anyway. “No. Not really.”

  When he looked at her with a furrowed brow, she shrugged. “I knew my father wasn’t around, but I’m not sure that’s losing someone. I didn’t know my . . . half brothers existed. My mother’s family disowned her, and everyone in my stepfather’s family who I’m close to is very much living.”

  His gaze turned back to the rushing river in front of them. The water pooled here in something like a pond, far more relaxing than the ride down the river.

  “Was that not the answer you were looking for?” she prodded.

  He sighed. “I’m not sure what answer I was looking for. Magical validation maybe. An answer to dealing with the universe being a piece of shit.”

  “It’s hard to believe that, sitting here.”

  “Don’t let all that legend crap go to your head. Those first settlers might have improbably survived a winter, but you can’t tell me they were happy doing it.”

  “Does it matter whether you’re happy doing it, if you survive? If you build a town and thrive?”

  Sam snorted. “Gracely’s really thriving these days.”

  “It’s not dead yet,” she offered, refusing to give up on Gracely’s promise. Not dead yet, the little place that had won her heart. Maybe, just maybe, she could have something to do with making sure it healed.

  She rolled her eyes at herself. A silly thought, all in all, but she kind of liked the possibility of working toward the reality of a silly thought.

  Which brought her back to the gruff enigma of a man sitting next to her, a man she’d known all of three days and felt an odd affinity for.

  “Who did you lose, Sam?” she asked gently, hardly surprised when he stiffened and scowled.

  After another few rustling minutes of silence, Sam started to get to his feet. Hayley thought he wouldn’t say anything.

  But Sam was full of surprises.

  “My sister died. Lilly reminds me of her, which is certainly no excuse, but it’s why I’ve been struggling to be . . . polite. Now, we better get our asses in gear because it’s going to take awhile to hike the kayak back to the shed.”

  “Sam—”

  “Less talking, more walking. You’re going to be starving by the time we get back.” He shed the kayaking gear he’d worn and started attaching it to the kayak. Hayley took one last glance at the peaceful area of river, one last deep breath of summer-warmed air, then got to her feet.

  She’d already pulled off her helmet, so she handed it to him, then shrugged out of the life vest and handed it to him as well. Once he hooked all the gear to the kayak, he lifted his shirt, using the bottom to wipe the sweat off his forehead, and Hayley . . . Well, she might have made a noise.

  Sam had abs. Very nice . . . defined . . . abs. With a little trail of dark hair down the middle that disappeared into his pants and oh Lord Almighty.

  “What?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed, still holding the shirt at chest level.

  “Nothing,” she squeaked. An actual, high-pitched, not totally formed squeak. The only thing that kept her from stumbling was the fact she wasn’t trying to move her body. If she’d been walking? She’d probably have broken a limb.

  It was like a movie, only this was real life. She was pretty sure this was real life. Far more sure when Sam grunted and finally dropped the shirt, hefting the kayak above his head as though it were nothing.

  Which only drew her attention from abs, to arms. Muscular, flexing-under-the-weight-of-a-kayak arms. He was probably strong enough to lift her up like that. Hayley barely swallowed down what she was sure would have been a hysterical giggle.

  This grumpy bear of a man had a seriously hot body, which was not something that usually made her all squeaky and giggly.

  Mainly because she’d never really spent much time in the close company of hot-bodied men, but she certainly understood how a girl’s brain might turn to absolute mush if the hot body also had a charming personality.

  Lucky for her, Sam wasn’t charming in the least. Just wounded and grumpy. Which was somehow also attractive to her, because apparently she was a little warped.

  “Are you coming?” Sam demanded, already hiking along a rocky dirt path that followed the curving ribbon of the river.

  Hayley scrambled after him, her cheeks heating. She tried to convince herself it was the sun, and not because her eyes had drifted to his butt.

  Had she ever checked out a guy’s butt? Not in broad daylight, that was for sure. She’d been on dates, she’d had a long-term, semi-serious boyfriend in college. She didn’t remember but
t-ogling any of them. But she couldn’t help but watch the way Sam’s sturdy hiking pants shifted over the curves.

  Maybe she was suffering some kind of heatstroke. That would make a lot of sense.

  Eventually, walking in the warmth of a summer afternoon helped ease some of her jittery whatever that thing coiled deep in her belly was. She was a little afraid it was lust.

  Which made her stomach jump all over again and her eyes drift to Sam’s shoulders, which held the weight of the kayak easily even though they’d been walking for a while now.

  “Can I help?” Hayley forced herself to ask. Maybe if she too could shoulder the burden she could stop analyzing every masculine aspect of the man who was ostensibly her boss.

  Sam stopped and rested the kayak next to him. He frowned and gave her a skeptical once-over, and even though she knew he was looking to determine if she was strong enough to help, and that should be insulting, all she could do was feel the force of his icy-blue gaze everywhere he looked.

  “No,” he finally said.

  Hayley opened her mouth to argue, but Sam hefted the kayak and kept talking and walking.

  “But try to stay in the shade of the kayak. Your face is looking a little red.”

  Hayley pushed the palms of her hands to her cheeks. Her face was indeed on fire, but she had a bad feeling it didn’t have as much to do with the sunshine as Sam might think.

  Nevertheless, she stayed close to Sam. Close was actually better. She couldn’t watch all the different ways his muscles moved. She just had to watch his feet and make sure she didn’t run into that—what appeared to be—hard wall of muscle.

  Really hot muscle.

  The return trip took ages, ages and ages, in a silence she was pretty sure was only uncomfortable for her and her unfortunately lustful thoughts.

  Lucky for her, Sam seemed about as likely to return her lusty feelings as a bear was to pass up an open garbage can.

  They finally made it back to the shed, and Sam was right, she was starving. Nearly shaking with it.

  “I’ve got some snacks in the car,” he muttered, as if reading her thoughts. “And look . . .”

  He started walking back toward the parking lot without finishing his sentence. When they finally reached the Jeep he looked at her, eyebrows still furrowed, mouth pressed into a grim line—so tight his beard nearly obscured his lips completely.

  “I’m sorry I went off half-cocked.”

  She blinked at him, trying not to blush over where her mind went at the word cocked. “It’s fine,” she, yes, squeaked.

  He shook his head and climbed into the driver’s seat, so she did the same and got in on her side.

  He pulled a bag from the backseat and plopped it into her lap. “Eat whatever you want out of here.”

  Hayley dug into the bag and pulled out a bag of nuts. “I guess you don’t have any cheeseburgers or pizza slices in here, huh?”

  He made a noise, and she had to look up at him because she almost, almost thought it might have been a laugh. Maybe. And he was kind of smiling. The tiny upward curve of the edges of his mouth might have been considered a pleasant non-smiling expression on anyone else, but Sam was unique.

  She’d count it as a laugh and a smile.

  “Nuts. Berries. Dried fruit.”

  Hayley dug into the bag of nuts despondently. “So far, I’m really liking the job, but the food choices have to improve.”

  He didn’t say anything else as he drove them back to his cabin. Hayley polished off the bag of nuts, then worked at choking down some dried fruit. “This is truly revolting.”

  “Then don’t eat it,” he muttered, parking the Jeep next to his odd little cabin.

  They both climbed out and as much as Hayley was ready for a real, way overdue lunch, she was a little loath to leave him.

  He’d shared the tiniest piece of himself, and she wanted . . .

  Well, hell, she just kind of wanted.

  “So tomorrow?” she asked hopefully.

  “I have excursions tomorrow,” he returned, walking up to his cabin without a backward glance.

  “Couldn’t I go on them? You know, observe you?” she asked, following after him.

  “You’re not ready. These are challenging rock climbs.” He paused at his door, looking back at her with something she might have considered compassion if it wasn’t so hidden beneath layers of hair and Sam-ness. “Besides, there’d be some likelihood of you seeing Will and Brandon.”

  “Oh.”

  “Come back Friday morning. I don’t have anything until one. We’ll do a more educational kayak trip.”

  “Like an actual training situation instead of a manly anger fit?”

  He gave her a doleful look. “Goodbye, Hayley.” He turned the knob and stepped into his cabin, but Hayley took a step forward so she was standing at the bottom of his stoop.

  “I’m . . . I’m sorry about your sister, Sam. I know you don’t want to believe in legends about healing or anything, and I know you’ve lived here for years, but I can’t help but think if you opened yourself up to it, you might just find it.”

  He didn’t say anything to that, just closed the door. Refusal. Rejection. Not unexpected, but a little prick of hurt nonetheless.

  Which was silly considering how used to little meaningless rejections she was. But it was something she was going to have to get a handle on when it came to Sam. And fast.

  Chapter Nine

  Sam ate dinner on his tiny back porch, enjoying the quiet buzz of mountain life around him. The sun was still high in the sky, but up at this altitude it never got blistering hot even on the most sweltering days of summer.

  He tried to convince himself he was relaxed. Tried to force some sense of calm he usually got from a nice, quiet dinner.

  But the irritations of the day buzzed along his skin. Hayley’s parting words kept poking holes inside of him. Painful, bloody ones. She wanted him to open up to healing? Why? So all this pain and guilt could eat him alive?

  Nothing else seems to be working.

  He was so frustrated with himself, he was almost glad to hear the sound of a car puttering to a stop down the pathway.

  When Brandon turned the corner to Sam’s back porch, he was carrying a stack of what appeared to be papers. Sam could only assume it was more paperwork for Hayley.

  “Busy?” Brandon asked, walking toward the porch.

  Sam knew he could say yes, but it wouldn’t stop Brandon’s approach, so he didn’t bother to answer at all.

  “Good news,” Brandon said, seating himself on the railing of the porch. “Lilly agreed to have the wedding before the baby’s born.”

  Sam shifted in his seat, trying to find some approximation of a smile and pleasant words to go with it. “Great?”

  “Great, yes, no question inflection needed. The problem is, we want an outdoor wedding, so I’m going to need some help getting everything ready by September. Maybe late August. As soon as we can manage it all, really.”

  Again Sam shifted uncomfortably. “I have no idea why you’re here if it’s to talk about weddings. Unless you’re planning on getting married while rock climbing or backpacking, my assistance won’t be needed.”

  “Not quite, but close.” Brandon grinned, clearly jazzed that Lilly had relented on this issue they’d been arguing about for weeks. “We’re going to do it on the Solace Falls overlook. Very small, very intimate, but you’re still going to have to wear a suit. As chosen by Lilly.”

  “Why am I letting your future ball-and-chain choose my clothes?”

  “She’s going to choose all the wedding party’s clothes.”

  “Who said I was going to be in your wedding?”

  “Why wouldn’t you be in my wedding?” Brandon demanded.

  Sam was about to flat out refuse, but at the sort of incredulous, very close to horrified look on Brandon’s face, he realized that would be more than a little bit of a dick move. “I mean, you didn’t ask.”

  “I’m not asking, I�
�m telling. I’m also telling you, you’re going to have to cut that mop you call hair.”

  “In what world do you dictate my clothing and hair choices?”

  “In a world where I’m going to give Lilly a perfect wedding, since she’s agreed to have one before the baby arrives. You owe me, and based on the way you’ve been treating Lilly lately, you owe her too. Which is why I’m here.”

  Sam cringed, and he didn’t even bother to hide it. Weddings were seriously cringe-worthy.

  “But I was hoping you could build some kind of altar. Just something we could set up that maybe Lilly could put flowers on. Nothing too complicated. Here, Lilly gave me pictures.”

  “I just bet she did.”

  “You’re going to have to get that shit under control, Sam. Fast.”

  “I’ll work on it,” Sam mumbled, taking the outstretched printout of various very-easy-to-make altars or whatever the hell. It would take him a day, two tops, to fashion something, once he got the proper materials.

  “Can you do it?”

  Sam grunted his assent.

  “Great, then I’ll leave you before you change your mind.”

  “What’s the rest of the papers?”

  Brandon was already beating a quick retreat off the porch. “Insurance in case you said no.”

  “What kind of insurance?” Sam called after him.

  Brandon waved. “Don’t worry about it. But do worry about cutting your hair. And not just for the wedding. Some of the clients love the yeti thing, but some of them are seriously starting to wonder if you’re a serial killer. I’m not asking you as a friend, I’m telling you as a boss.”

  “I’m an equal partner, not your damn employee.”

  “Then act like it.” Brandon flashed a grin that made Sam want to punch him. Mostly because Brandon was right.

  But he disappeared among the trees and rocks, and Sam discovered the oddest thing.

  A little bit of company, and agreeing to do something for someone else, it had uplifted his mood. Just a little bit.

  * * *

  Lilly sat at the kitchen table in Brandon and Will’s cabin. Though she still spent some nights at her little home in Gracely with her sister and nephew, more and more frequently, she spent the night here.