by Shirley Jump
A little after eleven, Sarah popped her head into his office. “I’m going to leave for the day. Before I go, I wanted to stop in and meet this famous ghostwriter.”
Trent hadn’t even thought about introducing them. Not because he was rude, but because he was so entranced by Kate’s efficiency and intellect that everything else ceased to exist. He’d thought she was crazy-smart in college, but this ability to sift through his blathering and find the one key message amazed him. “Sorry, sorry.” He got to his feet and waved between the two of them. “Kate, this is Sarah, the best PR manager in the world—”
“Stop buttering me up. I already finished the book launch party arrangements.” Sarah chuckled, then stepped forward and shook hands with Kate. “So nice to meet the woman who is going to try to make this character look good on paper.”
Trent shot her a glance. “Hey!”
But Kate was laughing, the sound as light as bells on a breezy day. “That’s a Herculean task, but he’s paying me well enough that I think I can pull it off.”
Sarah grinned. “As he should.”
“I’m right here, you know.” Trent waved a hand in front of Sarah. “It’s not good to talk bad about your boss.”
Sarah stuck out her tongue, then laughed. “That’s what you get for making me work on the weekends.”
“What about the danishes? I thought those were compensation enough.”
“The sugar high has worn off, sadly. I’m back to being grumpy.” Sarah rested a hand on her belly. Her face was drawn, shadows under her eyes, and Trent vowed to give her an extra day off every week until the baby was born. Sometimes, he forgot how hard his employees worked. “Kate, leave me your card, and I’ll be sure you’re invited to the book launch. You’re the author—you should definitely be there.”
Kate shook her head. “That’s all a secret. Trent’s going to be the author. If I go, there’ll be questions, and I don’t think anyone wants those.”
“You’re really not going to go?” Trent said. Her reasoning was sound, but still the refusal came as a surprise.
“Once I’m done writing, my part is done, Trent. Then I’m out of your hair and onto the next project.” She shuffled the pages he’d read and paper-clipped them together before tucking them back in her bag. “Thanks for the invite, Sarah. I’m sure the party will be great.”
“Well, I’ll save you some cake either way.” Sarah turned to Trent. “I’m going to go if there’s nothing else.”
“That’s it. Thanks, Sarah.” He stopped her before she turned away. “Take Monday off, okay?”
Relief washed over her face. “Thanks. I have a million things to do before the baby comes.” She pivoted toward the door, then turned back. “Don’t forget the hike tomorrow. Carissa will meet you at seven at the Moulton Falls parking lot trailhead. You two can decide the best place for the photos and hike up there to do them. I think her engagement shoot is at eight, so yours will probably be afterward.”
“Sounds good. Thanks, Sarah.”
“You’re welcome.” She took a step, then stopped. “Oh, and Kate, I have some photos of Trent on his adventures that I can email you. It might prompt some conversations.” She lowered her voice and winked. “I know he can be a bit hard to pry information out of.”
“Still here, Sarah.”
“‘Course you are, workaholic.” She waggled her fingers. “Have a great weekend!”
When Sarah was gone, the office seemed a hundred times more intimate and close, now that it was just Trent and Kate on the entire floor, maybe even in the entire building. A wave of nerves—insane, Trent never got nervous—washed over him, as if he was fifteen and in the same room as his crush. “Do you, uh, want some more coffee?”
“If I have any more, I’ll be talking a million miles a minute.” Kate glanced at her notes on her computer. “We still haven’t covered your childhood and family life, so maybe we can get to that soon? I really want to understand the impact of all that on you and your decisions today.”
“There’s no impact.” He shrugged. “I’m a different business owner from my parents. We have always moved in opposite directions.”
“I think our childhoods impact us more than we think.” She closed the lid of her laptop. “Thanks for the time this morning, and I’d love to stay longer, but I have somewhere to be. This deadline is going to sneak up on us pretty fast, so how about we meet tomorrow?”
He shook his head. “I have that hike tomorrow.”
“I know. I heard Sarah mention it.” Kate fiddled with her pen, avoiding his gaze. “How about I go with you? I mean, not, like, a huge hike, but a little one and we can talk at the same time.”
He stared at her. Had the Kate he knew been switched for someone else? “You. Want to hike. With me.”
“Why is that such a surprise? I’m not a total couch potato, you know. This book and deadline are important, so I’m offering to try hiking with you.” She parked a fist on her hip, which canted her body to one side, making the skirt swing around her gorgeous legs. “Plus, I’ve heard that’s a beautiful trail.”
“It’s also an intermediate-level hike, if we do the entire route.” Was he trying to talk her out of it? There was an easier route, one that would make for great pictures and give them both enough air to talk. “The girl I knew in college thought getting across campus was a hike.”
“Maybe I’ve changed since then.” She raised her chin as if daring him to disagree. “You have to admit, Trent, you haven’t seen me in a really long time. You have no idea how much I’ve changed or haven’t.”
“True.” He was basing everything he knew on a history from their early twenties. Had she changed? And why was he so interested in discovering that answer? “All right, if you’re game, let’s do it.”
She tucked her laptop away and shut off the recorder, stowing the small machine in her bag as well. The bright pink tote seemed so unlike Kate, who had been shy and reserved in college. He’d rarely seen her wear anything other than dark colors. This Kate, in the cute dress and the pink bag, was more vibrant, more interesting, and way too tempting.
“Great. I’ll meet you at the trailhead at seven-thirty.” Kate glanced at her watch. “I have to go. I’m meeting my grandmother.”
“You still do that?”
She nodded. “Every Saturday. We don’t go as far or as long on our shopping trips as we used to, because she’s getting older now and not as spry as she used to be, but yes, I still keep that weekend date with Grandma Wanda.”
Once upon a time, Trent had been close to his family like that. Then he’d grown up, and his ambition and drive had taken him further and further away from that little family nursery and small-town dreams his parents had. Now their relationship was strained and his visits home rare. “I think that’s really nice, KitKat.”
If she heard the envy in his voice, she didn’t show it. “Thanks.” She dug her car keys out of her pocket. “See you tomorrow.”
“I’ll walk you out.” Not because he needed to, or because she could possibly get lost in this wall-to-wall glass office space, but because he couldn’t quite let this new Kate, the one who had volunteered to go hiking, leave yet. A hundred questions ran through his mind, but he held them back. They were working on a book, nothing more. Technically, she was his contracted employee, and mixing that with something personal would be a huge mistake.
Too soon, they reached the lobby and the elevators. He reached past her to push the button, catching another whiff of that warm, vanilla floral fragrance. “Do you need me to send anything over from our inventory? Hiking shoes? Jacket?”
“I’ve got it under control, Trent. And I still have your jacket in my car. I meant to bring it with me today and forgot.”
“Keep it, KitKat. I’m sure it looks much better on you than on me.” The elevator doors opened, Kate stepped inside and pressed the button. “
See you tomorrow.”
“See you soon, Trent.” As the doors shut on her smile and big green eyes, Trent realized he was looking forward to this hike for more reasons than just the chance to be outdoors again. He went back to his office, his mood lighter, and with the oddest urge to burst into song.
Eight
What had she been thinking?
How about I go with you? It’ll be fun.
Kate paced her apartment Sunday morning while Charlie hid under the coffee table, watching her with narrowed eyes. Kate had woken up ridiculously before-sunrise early and had been a bundle of nerves ever since. She didn’t go hiking or canoeing or skiing. The riskiest thing she’d ever done was play putt-putt golf on a rainy day.
She’d debated what to wear for at least an hour. Gotten dressed, changed her mind, then gotten dressed again. Her gut had been churning so much this morning, she’d barely been able to keep down a piece of toast.
“I’m not a hiker, Charlie,” she said to the cat. “I’m not even a walker. I’m a writer who sits all day and tells stories. What was I thinking?”
Charlie, of course, had no answers. He kept watching her, his tail flicking against the underside of the coffee table with a steady, soft thwack sound. Kate glanced at the time and stopped pacing. If she procrastinated another minute, she’d be late.
This was what she got for taking Penny’s advice, which had nothing to do with hiking and everything to do with writing. Ironic that Kate was using that hike to avoid the writing she should be doing.
She grabbed a small backpack she’d filled with a notepad, her recorder, a snack, and a couple of water bottles, then headed out the door. The weatherman had predicted a clear, sunny day with temps in the mid-fifties, and so far, Seattle had delivered with a bright blue sky and a lazy sun inching its way up from the horizon.
The Moulton Falls trailhead lot was half-filled with cars when Kate arrived. Moulton Falls was one of the few trails accessible in the winter and spring, and on such a gorgeous day, it was no surprise other people were embarking on a hike. SUVs and crossovers with roof racks and trailer hitches—clearly people who spent a lot of time outdoors—peppered the pavement. She parked her tiny Honda sedan beside a towering dark blue, extended-size Suburban. The shadow of the SUV completely covered Kate’s car, as if she’d parked next to a giant. She grabbed her bag and headed across the lot.
Trent was already there, standing by the wide road that marked the entrance to the trail. He was talking to a small group of people, his back to Kate, which gave her the opportunity to watch him and admire his ridiculously in-shape body as she crossed the parking lot. He was wearing a pair of dark brown khaki pants with more pockets than she’d ever seen on a single piece of clothing, and a dark green T-shirt. He had a black backpack slung over one shoulder, and a ballcap shading his face. He hadn’t shaved this morning, which completed his man-in-the-wild look with an edge of scruffy bad boy.
Her heart began to race, and she prayed her traitorous blush didn’t announce to the world how attracted she still was to Trent. “Good morning!” she said in as cheery a voice as she could manage, without a trace of nerves. She hoped.
Trent turned toward her. The smile dropped from his face when his gaze took in her outfit. “What are you wearing?”
She peeked at her jeans and sneakers. Outfit number three in her indecisive morning. Albeit, both outfits number one and two were another variation of the same combination. “Hiking clothes.”
“Uh, Kate, those Chucks are a little more appropriate for hiking the mall, not the side of a mountain.”
“But they’re high-tops with lots of laces to keep them secure.” She stuck out one pink canvas Converse. “What’s wrong with these?”
“For one—” he bent down and caught her foot in his hand, and her heart did a somersault, “—no traction on the bottom. For another, thin material, which won’t keep your feet warm and will instantly get soaked if it rains—”
“But the weatherman said—”
“For another, they’re practically brand new, which is going to mean blisters at the end of the day.” He rose and dusted off his hands. “Come with me.”
She trotted behind him, trying not to feel like she’d messed up before they’d even begun, and across the parking lot to the giant Suburban that had dwarfed her little Honda. Of course that was Trent’s car. Why was she surprised? He swung open the back door, revealing dozens of boxes of all sizes. Some marked T-shirts, others marked PANTS, and a set of smaller boxes with shoe sizes on them.
He shot a glance at her feet. “Size…eight?”
Not bad for a guesstimate, she had to admit. “Seven and a half. But I read online that your feet can swell when you’re hiking, so maybe the eight would be best?”
He grinned. “Did you do all your hiking research through Google?”
“Well…yes. And I found this picture of these cute shoes—” she pointed to the bright-pink sneaks she’d bought last night, “—and thought they’d work great.”
“What the model wears for the catalog and what works in reality…” he scanned the stack of boxes, then pulled one out and handed it to her, “…are two different things. We’re hiking a mountain, and although the weather is great here in the parking lot, it’ll get colder in the higher elevations. We need to be prepared for rain or snow, even if the weatherman swears there won’t be any, because what happens at elevation isn’t always the same as what happens below, which is why the boots are a better choice. Here, try these.”
She took the box and pulled out a pair of dark brown boots. They were thick and rubbery, with heavy soles, like Trent’s. “Can I ask why you have shoes and shirts in the back of your car?”
“Because you never know when a damsel in distress is going to need a pair of hiking boots.” He shot her a wink, then rooted inside the box marked PANTS as he talked. “Actually, I did a trade show a few months ago and just haven’t had time to unload the demo stuff from my car. We only had a few pairs of shoes at the show—that’s a new area for us, and we were test driving them at the show. You lucked out that I had your size.”
“I’m hitting the hiking lottery.” Kate leaned on the back bumper, slipping into the hiking boots.
Trent tried not to notice how close she was, how a shift of a few inches would make him touch her. The heat from her body and the light scent of her perfume captivated him. His gaze kept returning to one errant curl that had escaped the ponytail, and begged for him to brush it off her cheek.
“Uh, here’s some hiking pants. They’ll be more comfortable than your jeans.”
She arched a brow, then pointed to her feet. “Hey, Mr. Makeover, you might have wanted to tell me I was changing my pants before I put the boots on.”
“Oh…yeah. Sorry.” He’d been so distracted by her presence that his mind had skipped over that fact. Focus, Trent, focus. “Do you want a GOA shirt too?”
She glanced down at her own faded dark blue shirt with a logo for a local cookie shop. “But this is my lucky T-shirt.”
“Well, lucky or not, you should wear this under it to keep you warm.” He pressed a long-sleeved Henley into her hands. “Dare I ask, why this is your lucky shirt?”
She took a breath and let the story spill out of her, talking a mile a minute. Clearly, Kate had had caffeine today too. “Ten years ago, I was at the farmer’s market when I struck up a conversation with a woman who had purple hair. She turned out to be an agent, and meeting her led to my first book contract. When I met her, I was wearing the shirt, and when she made the call and said I got the job—”
“You were wearing the shirt.” The story amused him and made him wonder what other tidbits he didn’t know about Kate. She was so…quirky and fun, so unlike the other women he had dated over the years.
“Yup. See?” She spread her arms. The words Life’s Better with Cookies danced across her chest. “Lucky.�
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He shifted closer, curious about everything from the shirt to her favorite kind of cookie. All the details he had either forgotten or not bothered to pay attention to when she’d been his. “And why do you need to be lucky today?”
“Trent?” A female voice drew his attention away from Kate. A young woman stood in front of them with a huge backpack slung over one shoulder. “I’m Carissa, the photographer. We met once before.”
Kate grabbed the clothes from him and hopped off the back of the truck. “I’ll go change.”
Trent turned to greet the short redheaded photographer, but his gaze lingered on Kate’s retreating form. What had she meant about wearing the good-luck shirt today? To protect her from bears? Encourage Trent to answer all the questions he had yet to answer? Or something else altogether?
Even as he and Carissa exchanged small talk, Trent’s mind wandered back to Kate. Her silly T-shirt and the unwavering belief that it brought her luck brought him back to a funny conversation the weekend before finals. Calculus had never been his strong suit, and Trent had poured hours into studying for the exam. The complicated math equations had come easy to Kate, maybe because she had a way of seeing the whole picture, whereas he got mired in the details. They’d been sprawled on a blanket under a tree in the courtyard, books open, highlighters and pens marking and noting the things they needed to know. He’d started to stress about memorizing the equations, and Kate had stopped him.
“You’ve got this,” she’d said. “You’re smart and you have great instincts.” Then she’d handed him a bright green pencil and closed his fingers over it. “If you forget that, even for an instant, pull this out.”
He’d turned the pencil over in his palm. “Why green?”
“Because my father always told me that’s the color of ground wires. They keep everything else from going haywire. Maybe it will help you too.” She’d smiled and gone back to her studying, confident she had solved his problem. Even though he’d thought it was silly, Trent had taken the pencil with him to the exam, and when the exam had gotten tough and he’d started to sweat the answers, he’d switched to the green writing tool.