by Hale, B. N.
The information was mundane, yet told in the context of the game it seemed exciting. Sharing the basic details of their lives in a series of stories and events made Reed’s sister seem real and Kate could actually imagine her. His stories of her were tinged with fondness, suggesting a close relationship.
“She’s a senior in high school, now,” Reed said. “But she wants to come here for college.”
“Because of you?” she guessed.
“Of course,” he replied with a smile. “But she’s going pre-med, so I expect great things from her.”
For the next twenty minutes they continued the game as they ascended the road into the mountains. The sun had just begun to set and the creek next to the road reflected the dwindling light. His smile gained a mischievous tilt, all but inviting her to ask where they were going. Finally, she relented with a sigh.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Dinner is always better with a view,” he said.
He pulled off the road into a parking lot of a small trailhead. A path disappeared into the trees and a pair of other cars sat in the lot, both bearing overhead racks for hiking gear. Lingering patches of snow were visible, but for the most part it had melted away, revealing a forest of evergreen trees. The fading light danced off the spots of snow and filtered through the boughs to light the trail.
“Are they going to find my body?” she asked.
He laughed and pointed into the trees. “We have half an hour to eat before the next activity.”
“Next activity?”
“You’ll see.”
Reed led her down the trail. She fell into step behind him, her gaze drawn to the forest. She’d enjoyed the outdoors as a youth but had rarely seen such beauty at home. The entire state of Arizona was an oven that baked plants until they died a parched death.
Reed glanced back but seemed content to let her enjoy the walk. Ten minutes later he stepped off the trail and threaded his way through the trees. Her curiosity mounted as she followed, and abruptly stepped onto a ledge that overlooked the valley.
Her eyes widened at the stunning view, and she shielded her gaze from the sun setting in the distance. Endless tracts of land stretched away from them, reaching all the way to the lights of Boulder. Pockets of snow dotted the trees like frosting, and caught the setting sun to make the vista sparkle.
A creek gurgled nearby, cascading over an icy ledge to create a waterfall that plunged down the escarpment. A cool breeze blew across Kate and Reed, rustling the evergreen branches to elicit a shiver.
“How many girls have you brought up here?” she breathed.
“You’re the first,” he said. “I don’t mind repeating date activities, but this one I was saving.”
“You should have saved it for a girlfriend,” she said, and turned to him.
“I was,” he admitted, “but the seasons refused to cooperate. I only have one year left and I wasn’t sure I could use it. Couldn’t let it go to waste, now could I?”
She joined him on a fallen log and tightened her coat about her. Spring had begun its triumph, at least on the south side of the slope. The dazzling sunset lent a warmth to the air that robbed winter of its lingering sting.
“The weather is perfect,” she said with a smile.
She turned away from the sunset to find him picking up a cooler he’d stashed behind the log. Complete with sandwiches, chips, and a drink, it was an entire picnic without the basket. He then withdrew a blanket and covered the log, gesturing an invitation. She took a seat next to him as he withdrew two sandwiches.
“What is all this?” she asked.
He grinned, his eyes sparkling with humor. “Welcome to dinner.”
Chapter 4
“I can’t believe you did this,” she said.
“Why?” he asked. “Turkey or roast beef?”
“Turkey,” she finally said. “And what if I was a vegetarian?”
“You aren’t,” he said, handing her the turkey sandwich. “I asked Marta.”
“Are all your dates so detailed?” she asked, skewering him with a look.
He smiled and took a bite, his answer coming out muffled. “Always.”
“Why?” she repeated, gesturing to the food and the view. “You don’t even know me.”
He laughed easily. “Perhaps I enjoy seeing a girl smile.”
“And that’s all you want?” she asked.
His laughter echoed off the cliff. “Not all guys are dogs.”
“That’s not enough of an answer,” she said. “I want to know why you would do all this.” She took a bite of her sandwich and waited.
He raised a hand as if to forestall her suspicion. “If you must know, I wasn’t the best looking guy in high school.”
“You’re cute now,” she said, and smiled .
“Don’t patronize me,” he said, his tone amused. “Back then I spent a lot of time in the friendzone. It wasn’t fun, but it provided me the unique position to see what happened to girls when guys were tools. They would come to me and share their stories and I decided I never wanted to make a girl feel such heartache.”
She laughed sourly. “I know heartache far too well.”
“Old boyfriend?”
“Jason,” she admitted.
“How long were you together?”
“Two years, since our senior year of high school,” she admitted. “He followed me to the University of Colorado.”
“When did it end?” he asked.
“We broke up a year ago,” she said, taking a bite of her sandwich. She fleetingly wondered why she was talking about it, but he’d asked. Hoping to end the conversation, she added, “I almost married him.”
“What was he like?”
“You want to talk about my ex?”
He withdrew two bottles of lemonade, offering one to her. “Learning about him is learning about you.”
“Clever,” she said. “But I’m not sure I believe you.”
He flashed his easy smile and motioned her to continue, so she did. Aside from the blondes, few knew the whole story. Not even her mother understood what had gone wrong, but Reed wasn’t connected to anyone, giving her a surprising sense of freedom.
She shared when they’d met in high school, how they’d dated through graduation and into college. He was academic but enjoyed sports and soccer. Their shared love of the outdoors had been a factor in their choice of college, but they’d hardly ever gone to the mountains.
Their first date became every date. Dinner on Friday night, followed by a movie. Visiting his family on the weekends, and a few holidays with her family when they could get to Arizona. It was comfortable and easy, but that was all it was. She finished her story with the fateful Valentine’s Day when she’d turned him down.
“Why’d you do it?” he asked.
Others had asked the question, but the way he asked it, without judgment, without condemnation, brought the truth from her lips.
“I don’t know.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
She shrugged, her eyes on the stunning vista. “I thought I loved him, but I guess I was wrong.”
“Love is more than just an emotion,” he said. “It’s wanting to be with someone.”
“I did want to be with him,” she said, a touch of heat creeping into her voice.
He shrugged and bent to the cooler, casting over his shoulder. “I suspect you didn’t.”
“What are you, the love Yoda?” she asked.
He grinned and held up two cookies. “Chocolate chip or macadamia nut?”
“Do you know the answer?”
His grin widened and he gave her the Macadamia nut, eliciting a laugh. As she finished her sandwich and ate the cookie—which was still warm—she thought about Jason, for the first time realizing that at some point their relationship had just become . . . comfortable. No spark, no fun, just comfortable. She voiced the thought and he nodded.
“So you’re saying he was an old pair of sweat pant
s?”
“There’s nothing wrong with sweat pants,” she said defensively. “They’re really comfortable.”
“True,” he said. “But who wants to spend their life in them?”
She snorted. “If I ever do, it means I’ve given up hope.”
He chuckled and began to package up the wrappers, returning everything to the cooler. When he finished, Kate half expected him to scoot closer on the log, but instead he remained at a discreet distance.
“Do you really call your roommates the blondes?” he asked.
She burst into a laugh. “That’s what you got from my story?”
“Your hair may be brown, but it’s got some blonde as well—a pretty gold in this light.”
She smiled at the offhand compliment. “Two years ago my roommates dressed up as blonde celebrities for a Halloween party at a club. Some guy mistook them for waitresses. When Brittney said she wasn’t, he said they were just dumb blondes and they should get him a drink or go back to the kitchen. Ember kicked him in the groin.”
Reed winced. “Really?”
Kate smiled as she recalled hearing the story. “Ember stood over him as he whimpered on the floor and said, ‘the blondes would eat you for breakfast.’ The name stuck.”
“I would have liked to see that,” he said. “But it’s starting to get cold. Ready for the next activity?”
She cast a final look at the setting sun, wondering how she could be so cold yet feel so warm. Reluctantly she nodded and stood, but he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, pointing her to turn around.
“Ember was insistent she get a picture of the date,” he said, his tone apologetic. “Do you mind?”
“She wanted proof of life?”
“Something like that,” Reed said, standing with her so the selfie would show the view. “She didn’t want you to skip out on the date.”
“She’s going to make a fearsome mother someday,” Kate said, smiling for the picture.
He clicked it and showed her the image. Their smiles were frozen in time, the sun descending below the horizon over her shoulder, the light playing off her cheek. She found herself examining his features, pleased with the scruff on his chin and the glint of amusement in his eyes.
They gathered their things and followed the trail back to the car. As he continued the game from earlier she considered how he’d listened to her story. He’d changed the subject at the end, but she got the impression he’d done it for her sake, not his.
When they left the mountains behind, she shifted in her seat to examine him anew. He noticed her expression and his lips twitched, but he continued to wait. Then he smiled and raised an eyebrow.
“Is that the look you give an engineering problem?”
“Yes,” she said.
“What do you want to know?” he asked.
“I’ve never met anyone like you. It’s like you’re a . . .,” she struggled for the right word, “professional dater.”
He laughed as he flipped on the headlights and pulled out of the canyon. “That wasn’t a question.”
“Are you a virgin?”
He burst into a laugh. “A bold question for a blind date.”
“No one plans this much for a date—without an expectation.”
“I do have an expectation,” he said, and then grinned. “I expect you to enjoy yourself.”
“You plan this much so I can have fun?”
Their eyes met. “Why not? Don’t you deserve it?”
She snorted but had no answer to that, and for several moments they rode in silence. Intrigued and confused, she tried to imagine what had made Reed date in such a manner. Then his easy smile returned and he glanced her way.
“If you must know,” he said. “I am a virgin.”
She hadn’t really expected an answer to the question, but he provided it with an amused expression. She sensed that he was being truthful, and he answered without fear of judgment or scorn. She guessed he had no qualms about admitting it, even if he were placed in a room of other guys. They might deride him for it, but he wouldn’t care.
At the same time there was a strange reserve for one so open, as if he had more he chose not to share. He’d said what drove him to date as he did, but she guessed there was more to the story, parts he didn’t share on a first date. Or perhaps at all.
But what did he keep hidden? Had he loved and lost? Or was he too afraid of love to let himself fall? She wanted to ask if he’d ever had a girlfriend but wasn’t certain she wanted to keep pushing him. Short of using handcuffs, she’d treated him like a suspect in a murder investigation. Still, she wanted answers.
“Ready for the first activity?” he asked.
“Do you have some sort of manual you’re following?”
“You know, you’re the first to ask that.”
“Do you?”
“Usually I follow a certain order,” he said. “A creative dinner, an activity or two, and then the after-date dessert.”
“Tell me one of your favorites.”
He consented with a nod. “I was visiting some friends in Florida and took a girl to see the bioluminescent algae. The entire ocean glows in iridescent green and blue, lighting up with the passage of boats. One of the greatest things I’ve ever seen.”
“Are you trying to win a gold medal in dating?”
“Maybe.”
She grinned in resignation. “What’s our next activity?”
He pulled off the road into a parking lot, where he exited and came around to open her door. She stood to find that they had come to a park. Lit by towering lights, the park contained a hill at its center. Snow blanketed the northern slope while the southern exposure showed withered grass.
He stepped to the trunk and withdrew a partially inflated raft, like the kind you would pull behind a boat. Dragging it behind them, he added air on his way toward the green side of the hill. When she realized what he intended she balked.
“I’m not dressed for sledding.”
“We aren’t sledding,” he replied, “we’re downhill boating.”
“I’m wearing sneakers!” she protested.
“Hence the boat,” he replied, his eyes twinkling like blue sapphires. “Trust me.”
Both breathing hard, they reached the top of the slope and looked down the snowy side of the hill. Several runs had been carved in the snow but one stood out. Wide and smooth, it swept down the embankment and extended until it died in the grass.
“My roommate and I like to snowboard,” Reed said. “And we sometimes come here when we don’t have time to hit a resort. This year the kids from the school decided to make a tube run and cover it with water to make it faster.”
“I don’t even have a hat,” she said.
He grinned and positioned the boat. “Grass at the beginning and end,” he said. “So the question is, how fast do you want to go?” He offered his hand.
Time seemed to halt as she looked at him, his easy smile an invitation. In the last vestiges of light his black hair seemed to glisten, excitement lighting his eyes. Heat stirred into her chest. On instinct she sought to stifle it, extinguishing it before it could take root. But it refused to die. Instead it spread into a smile.
And she took his hand.
Chapter 5
“It’s been years,” she said, climbing into the boat.
“I figured,” he replied, and then jumped in after.
She grabbed the ropes on the sides of the boat as they accelerated, the now frigid air blasting her face and hair as they careened down the hill. The ice had melted a little during the day, making the run even faster.
A spontaneous shout was drawn from her lips as the boat accelerated. Then they reached the bottom of the hill and the boat streaked into the field, bouncing and spinning. It passed over the grass and slowed dramatically, sending them both tumbling into the front. Laughing in delight, they disentangled themselves and exited the boat.
“Care for another run?” he asked.
&nbs
p; The adult in her wanted to shake her head and argue, but the kid would not be restrained. She giggled and caught the rope. When was the last time she’d giggled? Then she pulled it around the hill and they began to climb.
When they plummeted down the slope she closed her eyes for a moment and relished the sensation of speed. Exhilarating and unnerving, it seemed to free her from the shackles that had bound her for a year. The sheer movement after being stuck for so long was almost addictive, and she veritably skipped up the hill for a third run.
She wiggled her way out at the bottom, eager to go again, even higher than before. He followed suit and they climbed up the hill, heaving the boat and leaping at the same time to gain a tiny boost of acceleration. She laughed the whole way down, shedding another layer of stifling regret.
After several runs fatigue drove them to slow, and they talked and laughed as they struggled up the green slope. She realized it had been nearly a decade since she’d gone sledding, and he admitted it had been a while as well. She tried to kick the mud off her shoes but he shook his head.
“Don’t bother unless you want to stop.”
“Never,” she said fervently.
He grinned and helped her the last few steps. Then they retreated and sprinted toward the summit. Kate jumped high and twisted, landing in the boat with Reed at her side. The impact sent them slightly off course and they hit a jump, briefly soaring into the air before landing on the snow again. Her laugh filled the park as they spun their way to a stop.
Gasping for breath, they remained in the boat, both staring at the sky. In the cold and stillness it began to snow, the flurries sprinkling upon them, shimmering and gleaming in the street lights. She reached up in wonder and caught a snowflake.
“I didn’t think it was going to snow tonight.”
“The forecast said it might,” he said.
“You checked the forecast?” she asked.
“Have to,” he replied. “I was planning an outside date, after all.”
She watched the snow descend from a sky that did not herald a storm. Instead it was the peace only wrought by a snowfall under the stars, when sound is stifled and solitude is welcomed. She’d felt alone for a year, but this time the solitude was not solitary.