by J. D. Brick
She pauses as I tap the brakes when I see a cop parked behind a stand of trees in the median. “Crap,” I mutter, looking in the rear view mirror after we pass him. “I hope he doesn't decide to ruin my day.” The cruiser stays put, and after a few minutes, I speed up again.
“The thing I really like about Megz,” Keegan continues, “is that she's not afraid of anything. I mean not anything.” She bites her lip. “I don't think I've ever gone through a single day without being afraid of something. I'm a coward.”
I grimace, studying her face between glances at the road. “How can you even say that? The girl who published the blog, who held all these powerful politicians' feet to the fire, who had the whole state paying attention to what these slick assholes in Oklahoma City were doing? There's no fucking way that girl is a coward. Just don't even say that about yourself, Keegan. I mean it!”
She sighs and shakes her head, but her eyes light up with gratitude. “The thing is, Blue, I could only do it anonymously. As soon as they found out who I was, as soon as my family put some pressure on me, I folded like a house of cards.”
“You were just a high school kid, Keegan. Why are you so hard on yourself?”
“Even in high school, Megz would've told everybody to go fuck themselves, and she would have kept right on going with the blog. ‘Throw caution to the wind.' That's what she's always telling me. Well, actually, she says 'throw caution to the fucking wind.' But I can never do it.”
I don’t know what else to say to her. My playlist is about halfway through a long Bob Dylan set, and after a few minutes of silence, Keegan starts singing along.
“Now these songs I know, at least some of them I do,” she says.
“Yeah, everybody knows Dylan.” I tilt my head at an upcoming sign hanging above the highway: Red Rock Canyon Exit 53B. “That's our exit.” I start talking in a hurry then, before she can interrupt me again. I describe my whole plan—rappelling with the ROTC group, then the river hike to the waterfall and cave, the whole campfire and blanket thing—and I’ve just finished when we pull up next to an old school bus with Reserve Officer Training Corps painted on both sides. In front of us loom the red sandstone cliffs that gave the canyon its name.
Keegan’s face alternates between delight and uncertainty. The whole ROTC group is standing outside the bus, near the river, sorting the gear. They turn as one to stare at us as we sit in the Coupe. I've never brought anyone along with me, and I expect some smart-ass comments from the guys. They’re incapable of being subtle. Or well-mannered, for that matter.
“You don't have to do the rappelling,” I assure Keegan. “You can just watch me. I have to participate with the group, but then we can get away and. . .” I let my voice trail off and run my fingers down her throat, then let them linger on her collarbone. She takes a sharp breath and closes her eyes.
“No, I want to do this, Blue.” She opens her eyes. “I want to throw caution to the wind. What better place to do that than at the top of a cliff?” She laughs. “I know I sound stupid, but I really want to do this. All of it. With you.”
I can feel my face stretching as I give her one big-ass grin. “That's my girl.” I shut off the car and pop open the trunk. “You're going to be great at it. At all of it. And I can't fucking wait to get you downriver.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Dangling
Keegan
I am about to be dangling off a cliff with only a lousy rope between me and certain death. Not only am I not about to throw caution to the wind, I couldn’t have hauled caution out of my feet—where it has settled like a big, heavy pile of rocks—or out of my hands—which are shaking like lily-livered leaves—even if I wanted to. I am frozen with fear. And everybody’s looking at me.
The wind, that thing I was going to toss my lamely prudent personality into, seems a lot stronger on top than it did below. I followed Blue and the ROTC members a couple of miles along a winding path that curved up and around, through trees and around boulders, until suddenly we were standing on top of the sandstone cliffs, looking down at the river. The guys, all clad in fatigues, jumped into action, anchoring rappelling ropes to two wide trees that stood about 10 feet from the edge. Then they quickly wrapped other ropes around their rear ends, creating harnesses with an elaborate system of knots.
And then, almost before I realized what was happening, they clipped themselves to the rappelling ropes and, one by one, they simply walked off the cliff. Headfirst. Hollering and howling and whooping as if it was the greatest moment of their lives. They’re young and brave and free. And they’re completely insane.
Blue stood near the edge with a beat-up iPad in his hands, reading out what sounded like a safety checklist before each team member stepped off the cliff. He looked deadly serious and sounded very business-like. But now that the last guy has seemingly disappeared into thin air, he looks over at me. I’m sure I look scared to death because I am.
No fucking way. The F-word comes very easily to me this time. And after I think it, I say it. “No. Fucking. Way.” I start to back up, turning to head down the path I just came up. “No way, Blue! Are you kidding me?”
He’s instantly at my side, the same expression on his face—kind, reassuring, sob-inducing—as the day I moved into the Embassy, and he reached out to me as I crouched next to my car. I could get used to that expression. I could get addicted to it.
“Keegan.” He sticks the iPad under his arm and puts both hands on my shoulders. “You’re not going down like that.” He chuckles and pulls me to him. “I should have warned you. That’s the advanced way to do it. They call it Aussie Style. These guys have been trained on how to do that. You’re going down butt first, slowly, with me right there next to you.” He laughs again and kisses my forehead, and I stand there feeling foolish. “Oh.” That’s all I can manage.
“And remember, you don’t have to do this at all. No one’s going to think badly of you. None of those guys down there will, I guarantee you. The only thing they’re thinking about is how to get you away from me.” I’d seen the way all the ROTC guys looked at me. I’d be a liar if I said it doesn’t make me feel good. But I do not want to back out in front of those guys. In front of Blue. Caution to the wind, you wuss.
“I’m doing this, Blue.” I walk back toward the edge to a pile of rope and start wrapping a length of it around my waist and through my legs, then try to tie it the way I’d seen the others doing.
“Hang on, hang on.” Blue tucks the iPad into the backpack on the ground nearby; then his hands gently take the rope away from me. “You gotta know what you're doing with the seat; otherwise you could get yourself killed. Besides, I brought a harness for you. It's safer, especially for a tiny butt like yours.” He grins and holds up a contraption with what looks like a waistband and two leg loops. Then he bends over a little and holds the harness out in front of me. “Step into these leg loops, gorgeous.”
I put my hands on Blue’s shoulders and my legs into each of the loops. Blue pulls the harness up above my waist and cinches the loops just above the edge of my cutoffs. His hands linger a little longer on my thighs than is probably necessary. Not that I mind. Then he pulls me against his body, his hands on my hips. “Just part of the safety check,” he says as my loins begin to flutter. “I have to make sure the waistband is above your hip bones.”
Being pressed against Blue like that is enough to make my heart beat faster and my lungs feel like they can’t get enough air. For some strange reason, a memory flashes into my mind just then.
I was sitting next to my mother’s hospital bed, holding her pale, bruised hand. They’d given her more pain medication, and she was floating in and out of consciousness. I’d been reading one of my romance novels, but I looked up and let the book close when she squeezed my hand. “You okay, Mom?” I could barely keep my voice from shaking. She was near the end, according to the doctors. She stared at the book in my lap. Its cover showed the usual torrid embrace of an impossibly beautiful couple. When she g
ave me a weary smile, I noticed how dry and flaky her lips are. I was looking around for the salve I’d brought in a few days earlier when she clutched my arm. Her bony fingers felt like a claw.
“I used to read those.” She was only in her late 40s, but her voice sounded so much older. It was painful to hear. “Then I met your dad. He was my real-life love story.” I smirked. Or maybe I rolled my eyes. I was still just a smart-ass high school kid, after all. But I remember that Mom held up her hand. “I know it sounds cheesy,” she went on, “but I still get that feeling around him, like I can’t quite catch my breath, like I just jumped off the Empire State Building or something. But I’m not afraid. I’m just fully alive for the first time. It’s this unbelievable rush that has never gone away. I get it every time the man walks in the door, even after all these years. I know there are lots of women who will never feel like that about anyone, not even once. I’ve been very lucky that way.”
Hot tears had filled my eyes then, and my mother gently stroked my arm. “Oh, I didn’t mean to make you cry,” she said. Gah, why am I thinking about my mother at a time like this?
Blue pulls back a little. “You still with me, Keegan?”
“Yeah, sorry, I was just remembering something.”
“You can still say ‘No’ you know.”
I grab the gloves Blue set on a boulder for me and quickly put them on. “I said I’m doing this, Blue. Now let’s go!” I sound way more confident than I feel.
He snaps to attention, feet together, chest out, hand to his brow in a mock salute. He’s wearing a pair of faded jeans and a denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and when he salutes, I catch a glimpse of those marvelously muscular abs. God, he is hot. “Ma’am, yes, ma’am! Your wish is my command.”
I give him what I hope is a seductive smile and run my gloved finger down the front of his shirt, then do a playful loop around the zipper of his jeans. “Remember that later on, Mr. Danube, when we’re in the cave.”
He growls as he yanks me toward him and uses some kind of metal clips to attach me to the rappelling ropes that stretch out over the cliff. “Keep that up, sweetheart,” he whispers, “and we’ll just go find a place over there behind those boulders. We could have some fun with these ropes.” He pulls my head back and kisses me urgently, hungrily. And I pretty much forget all about rappelling. I am more than ready to head over to those rocks. But then Blue lets go of me.
“Nah, you're right. You've come this far. You've got to do it now. I can wait a little longer.” Blue grabs some more rope from the pile and begins wrapping it around himself like the other guys did when we hear a voice calling from down below.
“You kids still coming down, still need someone on belay? Or should we just give you two some alone time up there?” Whoever’s speaking stretches the word alone out over two or three syllables. A bunch of guffaws reach our ears.
“Hey, Henderson?” Blue walks over to the edge and yells. “I have the ability to make you scrub every toilet on campus with your toothbrush! Would you like to rephrase that question?”
Instantly, we hear the chastened reply. “Yes, sir, I just wanted to let you know I am here available to belay for the lovely lady on your command. No disrespect intended, sir!”
Blue grins, still tying knots. “Technically, I don’t have any power over them as I’m a civilian. But they don’t seem to know that,” he says in a low tone. He swiftly creates a seat out of the rope like the others did and then starts cinching himself to a second set of ropes tied around a tree and hanging over the edge. “This is called a Swiss Seat,” he tells me. “I’m going down right next to you.”
“What did Henderson mean when he said he was available to belay me?”
Blue is checking my harness and the clips, making sure everything is tight. “It means he’s going to be holding on to your rope. And that he will catch you if you fall.” I draw a quick, sharp breath. “But you’re not going to fall, bar girl. I’d never let that happen.”
He yells over the edge to Henderson. “On belay, grunt?” And the answer comes right back: “Yes, sir, on belay.”
He puts the other rappelling rope in my hands and tells me to turn around and place my feet on the edge of the cliff. “Grab the rope with your right hand and put it behind your back. That’s your brake. And put your left hand in front of you on the rope. That’s your guide.”
I do as he says. My heart is racing. A part of me wishes I could back out. But another part of me—I guess it’s the stronger part—is determined to see this through.
“I was never very strong, but you’re just like my mother.” I was hearing Mom again. I’d been kind of angry at her for saying that, considering how I felt about Virginia. But I tried hard not to show it. You can’t get mad at someone on death’s doorstep. And I couldn't tell Mom she didn't know what she was talking about. But I am nothing like Virginia Cooke. She’s steel without any trace of a magnolia. I’m more like an overripe banana, nothing but mush inside. Or not much else.
Why the hell am I thinking about this right now?
Blue is talking to me. “Now just step out over the edge, Keegan. Keep your feet up high on the rock. Make an L shape with your body.” Sure. Just step out over the edge. The wind suddenly picks up and a cloud of dust settles over my face. “Aagh!” I am shaking my head, trying to clear my vision without letting go of the rope. I can’t seem to move my legs. I am panicking.
And then Blue is next to me, hanging casually on his rope, his face full of concern. I feel the tears coursing down my face. “I got a bunch of dust in my eyes, and I can't let go to wipe them!” I hope he believes that’s the reason for my ridiculous tears.
“Your right hand is braking you, Keegan. Just keep it in the small of your back. Use your left hand to clear your eyes.”
“Oh.” I totally hate myself right now. I wipe my eyes with my glove and then notice Blue is sliding over, his boots scraping the rocks until his body is covering mine.
“We’re going to go down together, bar girl.” His lips are right next to my ear, and his voice is calm and soothing. “When I say ‘Right hand out,’ you’re going to stick your right hand out to the side. That will allow you to move down the rope. And at the same time, you’ll push off with your feet. Just go a few feet down, then bring your right hand in tight to the small of your back again to stop yourself. Understand?”
I nod. Having his body pressed up against me, moving with me, makes all the difference, even if it does make me look like a big baby.
“You ready?”
I nod again. Then, at the last minute, I think of something. “Hey!” I turn my head to the side. He’s so close his lips skim my jaw. “What about our backpacks? Won’t we need them?”
“Oh, we’ll get them when we go back up. You didn’t think you were only going down once, did you? Next time, you’re going down by yourself!”
Before I can protest, he calls “Right hand out,” and we put our right hands out in unison, pushing off the rock with his feet straddling mine. We slide down the rope a few feet and then plunge toward the cliff again.
“You do realize,” Blue whispers into my ear as our feet push off again, “the real reason I wanted to go down with you was so I could thrust into you just like this.” He pushes his crotch against me each time we touch the rocks again. I can’t help laughing. And, yeah, I’m turned on.
Just as we reach the bottom, I turn my face into the wind to shout. “You are unbelievable!”
He puts his mouth right next to my ear again. I can feel his warm breath against my face. “That’s what they all say, bar girl.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Cave Man
Keegan
We’ve hiked for about an hour, following the river, most of the time in companionable silence. The fall foliage envelopes us in blazing shades of orange, red and yellow.
“Those are the only native Caddo maple trees left,” Blue points out when we finally stop and pull water bottles out of our backpacks. “The Plai
ns Indians used this canyon as a winter camp. Then the settlers going west used it as a stop on the California Road to get fresh water and fix their covered wagons. You can still see the wagon ruts along the trail.” He takes a swig of water as I search the ground for signs of the long-ago settlers. “I used to come camping here when I was in Scouts so I know the place pretty well.”
“You were a Boy Scout?”
“Yep.” He sticks his water bottle in the outside pocket of his backpack. “I made it all the way to Eagle Scout.” He grimaces. “It was the only thing I ever did that my old man approved of.”
I stand there, awkwardly staring at the trail while gulping water. His words make me uneasy. Between the two of us, we sure have a crapload of baggage to carry around. But Blue has it worse. I have a problem with my power-tripping grandmother. But at least I know my parents love me unconditionally. Or loved me, in the case of my mother. Blue apparently has major Daddy issues. And then there’s the whole war thing that I can’t even begin to figure out. It’s probably insane to think we can make this work. Whatever 'this' really is.
Blue steps toward me and lifts my chin with his finger, then places the finger on his lips and shakes his head, staring into my eyes. It’s as if he has read my mind. Stop thinking so much. You always over think things. Just be in the moment. Just enjoy right now.
Blue moves back a little, watching me as a slow, naughty smile creeps over his face. “Being a Boy Scout really comes in handy when I need to tie ropes around hot college girls. I do good knots.” He runs his eyes over me, and my skin cells skitter up and down my body as if they’re being swept up by his spiky black eyelashes. I grin and slap his arm. I am determined to ignore the shivery sense of danger, of foreboding, that keeps trying to surface. I want to be happy. I want to forget about everything except Blue.
I lift my face toward the sky and take a deep breath of the pure air. It’s a bit more brisk than it had been that morning, with just a hint of a chill. “I can’t believe I went down the cliff six times by myself!” I know I sound like a boastful little girl, but I can’t help it. I’m seriously proud of myself. “I’m feeling pretty bad-ass right about now.”