Getaway Gone Wrong (Team Northwest Sweet Romance Book 2)

by Lia London

  They exchanged phone numbers and then stood smiling awkwardly at each other.

  “So …” said Parker.

  “So.”

  “Any chance we can do something else instead of kayaking?”

  “I could probably snag us a Cessna this afternoon.”

  “You mean a plane?” Parker almost gulped. “Do you have something against being on land?”

  Guy ran both hands through his hair. “I thought I’d impress you with my piloting skills.”

  She poked his belly, and his hand dropped down to cover the spot, brushing her fingers for a second. “You don’t have to impress, remember?” she chided. “You’re the one who said to just be.”

  He relaxed. “Right.”

  “So …” she repeated.

  “So, I have a repair and installation job at eleven.”

  Parker folded her arms and gave him a smug look. “It might be tricky without your tools, you know.”

  “My—did I leave those here last night?”

  “Mm-hmmm,” she sang. “I have something to barter with now.”

  “Barter?”

  “Your tools in exchange for a guided tour of your favorite part of the island. Harbor seals optional, but always a plus.”

  To her relief, he grinned wide. “Deal. I told you I’d be happy to give you the grand tour.”

  “Really? I thought that was Andie pushing you into it.”

  “No one’s pushing me. I do what I want.”

  She gave him a sassy look. “Mr. Independence, answering to no one?”

  “Mr. Fox offering Miss Parker a little help making her getaway more fun.” The mischievous glint in his eye sent ripples of heat scattering across her body. “Because I want to.”

  “Well, if you put it that way.”

  His voice dropped lower and his brow curved upward. “Can I grab those tools now?”

  “You’re going to row them back? What if you tip?”

  “I won’t tip. I never do.”

  “Well, all right. Come and get ’em.” She strolled towards the cabin. “And don’t be checking out the stain on my butt.”

  “Who would do such a thing?” Guy threw up his hands in mock disgust, then with his normal tone, added, “It’s worse on the right cheek. Lots of red and blue ink.”

  Parker spun around, her hands on her bottom and her chin stuck out defiantly at him. “You are impossible.”

  “And you are adorable.” He strode past her, leaving her gaping after him.

  Did he really say that? She jogged to reach the door first. “Oh no. You can’t come in this time. I may have left my unmentionables lying around.”

  “I won’t mention them if you don’t.”

  Parker felt an organ lurch. How could this man be so goofy and yet kind of sexy at the same time? She held up her hand to bar his view. “I’ll get the tools. Wait here, Mr. Fox.” She darted inside and hefted the box. Glancing around the surfaces, she saw no stray implements, so she returned to the door. Hiding the box out of view behind her back she said, “Where will you take me if I give this back?”

  He scratched his beard thoughtfully. “Do you bike?”

  “Motor or manual?”

  “Cycling.”

  “Yeah. Do you think the weather will hold?”

  “The clouds are supposed to burn off by around three, highs in the 50’s. It’ll be chilly, but if we’re working up a sweat, it shouldn’t matter. Why don’t I meet you at the Country Corner—the mini mart where blabblermouth Dolores works—at say, two-thirty? You can park there, and I’ll drive us to the base of Mt. Constitution.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “We can bike up.”

  “Uphill?”

  “It’s how you traditionally get to the top.”

  “Do you do anything easy?”

  He raised a challenging brow. “Do you?”

  Parker found herself more and more intrigued by this man. He had his own brand of ambition, and she liked it. Why did she have to be afraid of a little thing like drowning in a freezing body of killer-whale-infested water? “Okay, two-thirty. How dead will I be at the end of this ride?”

  “It’s pretty steep. Maybe half dead.”

  “So, still moving?”

  “Stiffly. Slowly.”

  “Great. I’ll be there. I assume you found a two-for-one deal on bikes, too?” She handed him the toolbox.

  “It’s as if you know me. See you later, Parker.” With a parting wink, he walked back to his kayak, loaded his unexpected cargo, and soon paddled away.

  Parker watched him until he rounded a rocky outcropping and disappeared from view, wishing she had a camera with her to follow the action. The thought of angling lenses for a shoot brought her crashing back into reality, and that meant turning down her stupid hormones and listening to logic. She had no time for a relationship, and no inclination for a cheap affair.

  Guy let the kayak drift onto the pebble beach at the base of the airport property. He’d parked the van in his Dad’s rented hangar with their four-seater plane. Grabbing the toolbox from the kayak, he trudged up the bank and crossed the worn-out cement to the dark green metal door.

  “I’m back, Dad!”

  “Already? Where’s your date?”

  “She didn’t want to come.”

  Guy’s father, Clay, swept his shaggy gray hair from his forehead, revealing a sympathetic frown. “It went bad, huh?”

  “It went great.” Guy beamed and sat on the corner of the old metal desk. “We’re biking Mt. Constitution later this afternoon.”

  “Guy!” Clay dragged a grease-covered hand across his forehead. “That’s not how you impress a girl. Killing her with the climb and making her stare at your skinny behind in spandex is a terrible first date.”

  “You know I can’t take her to a movie or something. It’s not an option.”

  “I know. I know.”

  “Honestly, I’m kind of hoping she’ll count last night as our first date.”

  “Did she know it was a date when it started?”

  Guy shrugged sheepishly. “Can’t things evolve?”

  “Did it evolve?” Clay’s brows dipped and swelled like a wave on the ocean.

  “I think there was some chemistry.” Guy shrugged. “I felt it.”

  “That’s biology.”

  “No, it wasn’t like that.” He smiled inwardly, remembering the feel of her skin, the curve of her—

  “Son …” His father shook his head sadly. “Oh, never mind. Just don’t get too attached. It’s just a date. A first date.”

  “We’ll be fine, Dad. I tried to get her to come flying, but she’s scared, I think.”

  “You can understand that.”

  Guy nodded. “I think you’d like her, Dad.”

  “She blonde?”

  “Nope. Brunette.”

  “Then I’ll like her.” He carved a feminine silhouette in the air with his hands. “Tall, dark and sexy?”

  “Not too tall, not too short. Fit.”

  Clay planted his fists on his waist. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Dad, I’m twenty-eight. I don’t need to talk to you about which girls I think are sexy.”

  “Girl? She young?”

  “My age. A woman.” He hid a grin behind his hand. “All woman. Feisty. Funny.”

  With a smirk, his father clapped Guy on the back. “Well then maybe she’ll help make a man out of you. Bring her by some time soon.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Does she know all about you yet?”

  Guy stiffened. “She knows about my work and my music. At least some of it. We hit it off fine.”

  “Good luck, Son. I hope she turns out to be a nice one.”

  With a sack of food from the deli, Parker spent the early afternoon in the laundromat beside the Country Corner, washing a load of clothes, the coat, and the stinky sneakers. Right on time, Guy’s van pulled up outside. She knocked on the window, waving him inside before returnin
g to extract her load from the dryer.

  “Sorry,” she called, leaning deep into the dryer. “I thought I’d be done by now, but industrial machines always take so much longer—” She stopped short, holding the sock she’d retrieved. “Speaking of which, you put your pants on the wrong cycle. They shrunk.”

  “Har har.” He gestured down at his legs. “Biking shorts. The punchline of every non-cycler’s jokes.”

  Parker rolled her eyes. “Oh, for the love of spandex, I’m teasing you.” On her way back to her laundry basket, she snuck a peek at the fit from behind. Not scrawny. Not bad at all.

  Working quickly, she crammed her clothing back into the mesh travel bag she’d used to haul everything. At last she slid her foot into her tennis shoe. “Ow! Hot! Whoah!” With a flailing kick, she launched the shoe into the air.

  Guy leaped and caught it before it hit the wall. Tossing it back and forth between his hands, he snickered. “Sweet dance moves. You really should audition for one of those shows.”

  “Not happening.” She snatched her shoe back and set it beside the other one. “I’m going to have to wait a minute for these to cool down.”

  His eyes drifted from her face down to her feet and back. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

  She folded her arms. “Why do you sound like my dad scrutinizing my clothes before a date?”

  “Is this a date?”

  “Are you my dad?”

  “I sure hope not. That would be weird.”

  Parker extended a leg in front of her. “What’s wrong with my yoga pants? I thought they’d be stretchy enough.”

  “Well sure, but the cuffs are loose and might get tangled in the chains.”

  “Oh … right. Suddenly the bike shorts make more sense.”

  “Believe me, this isn’t a fashion statement or an attempt to flaunt my ultra-cut thighs.” He posed like an action figure.

  Parker snorted. “Okay, so what should I use? Rubber bands?”

  “If you want to cut off the circulation to your feet, that would be a fantastic idea.” He pumped a thumb in the air.

  “I swear I’m rubbing off on you. You weren’t this sarcastic when we first met.”

  “Ah, those were the good old days. You’re not as flustered as you were back then, either. I imagine we’re growing up.”

  “Gaaah!” She gave him a playful punch. “Seriously. Floppy cuffs. We need a solution because I’m pretty sure any jeans I’d change into would be too tight to ride in.”

  “Fair enough. High fashion is rarely functional.” Guy looked at her calves with a clinical expression. “Hang on. I’ve probably got something that’ll work.” He jogged back out to his van, and Parker peered out the window after him, admiring the total lack of jiggling going on. Pasty white muscle, but muscle all the same. He returned a moment later with a handful of zip ties. “Let’s try these.”

  “Good idea.”

  He knelt as if proposing and held out his hand. “Cinderella?”

  She put one foot up on his knee and folded the cuffs of her yoga pants around her calves. With two ties, Guy fastened them securely and comfortably.

  “Okay, let’s see how the sneakers are doing.” She sank her feet into her clean shoes. “Perfect. Nice and toasty.”

  “Excellent.” Guy winked. “I wouldn’t want you to get cold feet.”

  Had he thrown her a double entendre? She smirked back and grabbed up her laundry bag. “You sure I can leave the car here?”

  “Of course.”

  “Wow, and I don’t have to pay for parking. This is … unreal.”

  “This is Orcas Island.”

  Parker stowed her clean laundry in the trunk of her car, but hesitated with the coat. “I won’t need this?”

  “You won’t want that. It’s going to get warm.”

  “But the weather report—”

  “You’re going to get warm. It’s a steep climb.”

  She followed him to the van. “What have I signed up for?”

  Opening the door for her, he flashed a broad smile. “The ride of your life.”

  Twenty minutes later, Parker glared at Guy’s back. “I hate you. You know that, right?”

  Guy pumped an encouraging fist. “Only a few more switchbacks to go.”

  “Liar.”

  “You caught me. It’s a little over five miles total, and we’ve gone about one.”

  “I hate you, I hate you.” She huffed and pumped her legs harder. “Why would anyone do this voluntarily?”

  “For the thrilling accomplishment of making it to the top.”

  “This is not my Spin Class at the gym.”

  “Nope. Those classes never offer bugs or a beautiful view.”

  “But there’s music.” Parker gasped for breath. “The beat keeps you moving.”

  “Want me to sing?”

  “Are you any good?”

  “I’m better on the cello.”

  Parker laughed through her frustration. “I’d love to see a cycling cellist.”

  “Hmmm. Not uphill. That might be a little too much.” He called back over his shoulder. “Come on. You’ve got this. Eyes on the prize.”

  “Right now, all I can see is your bright blue butt. If I can kick it when we get to the top, it might be motivation enough.”

  “If you still have the strength to kick when you get to the top, I’ll let you.”

  “You’re on, little man!” With renewed vigor, Parker switched gears and stood. A few pumps later, she pulled alongside him. “Let’s go.” Guy’s grin sent a distracting shiver through her, fueling her through the next two miles of switchbacks. With each turn, she told herself just one more turn, just one more turn.

  “You’re doing great!” cheered Guy. “I promise the view from the top is worth it.”

  “This is what I get for being too chicken to fly, isn’t it?” groused Parker.

  “Oh, I aim to get you up in a plane, too. How long are you staying on Orcas, anyway?”

  “Just through to Saturday.”

  “Oh.”

  “You going to miss me when I’m gone?”

  The sparkle in his eyes answered better than words, and Parker felt a rush of pleasure to think that someone enjoyed her company enough to miss her. She suspected most people just felt relief when she left a room.

  “Come on. This has to be better than a Spin class.” Guy waved an arm at the lush, wooded scenery.

  “It really is. And the weather is perfect. Not too hot or cold. Good call, Guy.” She noted his reaction to the compliment and pondered this as she continued to climb. For the last four years, she had driven others in her directorial goal, rarely being fluffy or friendly with the casts, but always getting exceptional results. But had it come at the price of adding a sharp edge to her personality, one that made her hard to approach in friendship … or romance?

  Was it worth it?

  With burning lungs, she returned her mind to the task at hand. “What’s the view, anyway?”

  “There’s an old stone tower with a fantastic view of the surrounding islands. You can see clear over to the mainland, too.”

  “Tower, as in more climbing?” She groaned. “You are trying to kill me.”

  “No, Rapunzel. I’m trying to share my island with you.”

  Normally, Parker would have uttered some caustic remark about Disney princesses, but something in the way he said it charmed her, like an invitation to sit by a warm hearth fire after a long, cold winter alone. “How much further?”

  “Four or five more switchbacks.”

  “If it’s six, I will …” She grunted with effort.

  “You’ll what?”

  “Oh, shut up and get out of my way!” With a primal yell, Parker commanded her legs to go into overdrive, and she sped past him in a furious sprint.

  A few minutes later, they rolled into a parking lot with a single low building and a wood-chipped footpath leading even further up. Panting, but proud of herself, Parker dismounted and snatched up
the water bottle Guy had attached to her bike. Lifting it in a toast, she said, “To making it to the top!” She swigged down half the bottle and let some of the water pour across her face.

  Guy stood fingering the bottle cap and gawking, slack-jawed at her.

  “What?” Parker surveyed her front. “Did I grow antlers? Break out in spots?” She spun to look at her hind end. “Did I split my pants?”

  “No, no. That was absolutely glorious,” he said.

  Her face contorted with confusion. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  He wheeled his arms in an awkward gesture of amazement. “Do you realize you biked Mt. Constitution all the way up without putting your foot down once?”

  Parker lifted a foot comically. “I did?”

  “You were… spectacular.”

  “What? Why?”

  “It’s the challenge they give teen boys half our age when they come out here for high adventure cycling tours.”

  Parker held a blush of pride at bay with an exaggerated pout. “And how do you know what’s half my age?”

  “A woman as accomplished as you are must be of a certain age—”

  She held up a finger to object. “How do you know I’m not ahead of schedule?”

  “And a woman as beautiful as you couldn’t possibly be a day over—”

  “Don’t say it out loud!” she yelped.

  He leaned closer, and whispered, “Twenty-eight. Probably just turned, maybe six weeks ago.”

  Parker gaped, fish-like, as he pulled back only a few inches. He lingered there, exuding mischief while she tried to fathom how he had guessed so accurately. Then his mouth derailed her concentration as she noted each pleasant curve hidden under the mustache. “How…?”

  “You showed me your drivers’ license on the ferry. Remember?”

  “And you remembered my birthday?”

  “And your weight.”

  “Gaaah!”

  He brushed her cheek with the back of his knuckle. “And your eye color.”

  The softness of his touch and of his gaze set Parker’s pulse racing as if she were still cycling up the mountain. She couldn’t blink away. “Well aren’t you a clever boy?” He hadn’t moved his hand yet, and she knew she couldn’t blame the weakness in her knees on the grueling workout.