by Max Monroe
Stop ogling and get it together, woman!
I turn to get something else out of my trunk—anything will do, really, as long as it gives me something to do other than drool all over my chin—and wait impatiently for his arrival.
I’m still poking around looking for something slightly credible when his voice startles me so much, I jump enough to bump my head on the trunk.
“Hey, Holl.”
I wince, and he reaches out immediately to put a concerned and protective hand to my head, pulling me away from the trunk.
Somehow, when I stand to my full height and look him in the eyes, my fingers are gripping a freaking tire iron. Nice one, Holley.
He glances down and notices it, and a tiny smirk makes one perfect cheekbone arch higher.
“Have some tire changing to do?”
I try to think of an excuse fast, but I really could use some more time. “I was, um, looking for my umbrella and must have mistaken this for the handle.”
I stop just short of slapping myself in the forehead.
Is that really the best thing I could come up with? Did I hit my head harder than I realized?
Part of me kind of hopes so, just so I’ll have a legitimate reason for that lame-ass excuse. Some might say you can’t put a price on a concussion, but I beg to differ.
Desperate to move on from my laundry list of embarrassing moments—the day has just started!—I throw the tire iron back in my trunk, slam it closed, and turn back to Jake, shading the sun out of my eyes with a visor fashioned from my hand.
“So…are you ready to do some four-wheeling type things and stuff?”
“Four-wheeling type things and stuff?” His lips crest into a tickled smirk, and I groan.
“Whatever. You know what I mean.”
“Aren’t you a writer, though?” he pushes, and as much as I’d like to hit him back with some witty retort, that’s kind of exactly the problem.
“I’ll have you know that for some writers, words are so much easier to convey on the page than verbally, and I just happen to be one of them.”
He smiles then, a genuinely friendly smile, and then finishes it with a wink. “I’m teasing, Holley. You do just fine with words either way.”
“Can I take that to mean you’ve been reading the articles?”
He nods and then waggles his eyebrows. “And some of your old stuff.”
“What? Where are you finding my old stuff?”
He shrugs his hands into his jean pockets. “I might be a dinosaur, but I do know how to search the internet.”
Oh. Right. The internet. Somehow, I’d forgotten that little beauty existed for a moment.
Instead of verbalizing yet another blunder, I hum and nod, hiking the little backpack I put together with my notebook and my lunch and a couple other things like sunscreen and bug spray up on my shoulder.
“Think we should get those things unloaded?” I ask, and Jake nods.
“I’ll go do it now.”
As he heads for the trailer, I go to my back seat and grab the heavy quilted blanket I’ve brought for them and the picnic basket packed full of snacky-type foods.
It’s heavy, but I manage to hook it over my elbow, prop it against my hip, and hump its weight across the parking lot to where Jake is working diligently on taking some straps off the machines.
I watch as he works, and a bead of sweat runs down between my breasts. It’s hot out—it’s August—but I bet if you asked the weatherman to check, he’d say Jake Brent doing manual labor makes the heat index shoot up an additional ten degrees.
He glances up and spots me with the basket, and then jumps down to take it and its weight from me swiftly.
“Damn,” he says when he feels how heavy it is. “How much stuff do you have in here?”
“A lot?” I shrug. “No shellfish, though.”
He laughs at that. “That’s good. And probably for more than one reason. I don’t know that shellfish is what I think of when I picture picnic food anyway.”
“I’ve actually never been on a real picnic,” I admit. “Hopefully, I didn’t completely miss the mark.”
His eyebrows draw together as he considers me. “You’ve never been on a picnic?”
I shake my head. “It’s…well…the guy I dated for a while…it wasn’t really his vibe, you know? He was into nice restaurants, fancy bars…that sort of thing.”
He nods, but there’s something in his eyes that doesn’t quite read as affirmation. I’m not sure what he’s thinking, but to be honest, I’m a little too scared to ask.
My heart is already beating a million miles a minute over a teeny, tiny peek into my vulnerability. I can’t even imagine what I’d say or do—maybe pass out—if he tried to ask me more.
Luckily, he doesn’t, taking the basket and climbing up onto the trailer to strap it to the back four-wheeler instead. Once it’s secure, I toss him the blanket, and he puts that in the front compartment.
When he notices me fanning my face with my hand, he smirks and asks, “Want to just meet back at my house after this one for the debriefing?”
I’m not too proud to agree. “That works for me.”
“Good. I can just bring the four-wheelers home with me for the night, then.”
Now that I’m empty-handed, I’m markedly more awkward. I do not know where to put those pesky little paddles attached to my arms.
Do I vogue?
Do I put them in my nonexistent pockets?
Do I let them hang limply at my sides?
I just don’t know.
My flight instinct is buzzing, but I stand there anyway as Jake backs the first four-wheeler off the trailer and drives it over to the entrance of the trail, and then he walks back and reverses the second one off, pulling it to a stop next to me.
He’s put his sunglasses on at some point during all this, so I can’t see his eyes anymore, but he’s definitely smiling as he holds out a hand.
“Want a ride?”
“Oh, no. No, no, no. I can walk.”
“Do we really have to fight about this every time?”
Foiled by a threat I know he’ll follow through with—staying bitterly determined until I give in—I jump up on the back, facing away from him so my legs can swing freely.
He sighs, clearly unimpressed with my positioning, but he doesn’t say anything as he rolls it slowly over to the head of the trail and pulls it up next to the other four-wheeler.
I jump down as he cuts the engine, and then he swings a leg over and climbs off too.
Neither of us says a word as we watch his date drive a Toyota Pathfinder into the parking lot and cut the engine.
It doesn’t take her long to climb out, and when she does, it takes even less time for me to assess how truly, painfully beautiful she is.
She’s wearing low-slung, skintight jeans with a heavy-buckle-sporting belt and a tank top that shows off her perfectly toned arms and ample cleavage. Her hair is long, almost down to the band of her bra—assuming she’s wearing one—but she pulls it up as she walks.
I swear if I were a guy, this would be the kind of fantasy I’d expect from porn.
Jake is silent beside me, and I have to swallow hard to get rid of all the saliva filling my mouth.
She looked pretty when I met her at the group meeting to fill out paperwork, but I have to hand it to her—Date Rachel looks like a Victoria’s Secret model come to life.
One glance to Jake shows his eyes haven’t left her, and I instantly feel like a big, broken third wheel.
I step to the side and back, tripping over a root in the ground as I go. Jake reaches out to catch me, concern in his eyes, but thankfully, I stop myself before I make it to the ground.
His date, Rachel, having just made it to us, looks on with pity in her eyes.
Like, holy hell, this poor woman is such a mess.
“Whoops,” I mumble, tucking my burning cheeks toward the ground as I pretend to look between the two of them. “Sorry. I’ll just be…�
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I glance away, twirling in a circle while I try to move away, afraid to lift my eyes off the ground and back up, but unable to bring myself to stop babbling to them either.
“So, um, have fun. Looks like it’s going to be…adventurous. And stuff. I’m excited,” I blab on. “I’m sure you guys are excited too. So, I’ll, um, let you get to it.”
Jake watches me with unconcealed interest as I back into the four-wheeler that’s to be mine and bump into it with my hip. Someone, anyone, please save me.
I don’t know if I’m going to survive following them around, and I’m almost positive it’s a terrible idea as I climb astride and try to figure out how in the hell you turn this freaking thing on.
I can hear them introducing themselves and making small talk, but I do my best to block them out and concentrate on trying to figure out how to operate the machinery.
There are buttons and switches everywhere, and the key itself doesn’t seem to be achieving a full launch.
Let’s see. Maybe if I just… No, that’s not it. Hmm. Okay, this bobby thing looks like it, well, bobs. Hmm. Oh! I know. Maybe the throttle, like, wakes it up and—
“Having trouble?” Jake asks from my side, making me damn near jump out of my skin.
I put a hand to my chest and practice bringing my breathing back down to a normal level.
“Jesus. You’re like a ninja sometimes.”
“Quiet feet. Something else they teach you in the SEALs,” he explains. “Do you want me to help you get it started?”
“I was just about to get it,” I deflect, and he smirks down at me, his eyes calling me out on my bullshit.
“Uh-huh, I could tell.”
“But…I guess, since you’re here…” I pause and shrug one nonchalant shoulder. “You might as well go ahead and do it.”
“Yeah, of course,” he agrees, humoring me.
I watch as he squeezes the brake handle thingy and turns the key, and the four-wheeler fires right up.
“I really was close!” I say, even though I know there’s no way I ever would have figured out I had to hold the brake thing.
“I know you were,” he patronizes me.
I stick out my tongue, and he just laughs.
“Ready, then?”
“Not even close,” I say honestly, and his smile makes the lines at the sides of his eyes crinkle.
“I’ll go slow. Promise.”
“No,” I say with a wave. “Don’t hold back on my account. You guys have fun, and I’ll just…you know, report from wherever I can.”
“Holley, I’ll go slow.”
“I have a map,” I challenge. “It’s fine.”
“I’ll still go slow.”
I sigh as he turns and walks back to his own four-wheeler. Rachel is looking back at me with curious eyes, so I smile for her benefit.
Her attention finally leaves me as Jake returns and climbs in front of her. She leans forward and wraps her arms around him tight, resting her cheek on his back.
A wave of olfactory memory hits me at the sight. Man oh man, I bet he smells amazing from that close.
Shaking away the thought, I put my thumb to the throttle thingie on my four-wheeler and shoot forward to follow them. It’s tricky at first, and to say my ride is rough would be an understatement. Eventually, though, I start to get the hang of it, and with Jake going slow like he said he would, I’m able to keep up with them, no problem.
He points to things on the trail, and Rachel looks at each and every one of them with a smile, nodding into his back to affirm she heard him. She doesn’t loosen her grip at all, and I make a mental note to reference her obvious physical attraction for him in my article.
A sharp twist of my stomach makes me let off the throttle briefly.
Ugh. I probably shouldn’t have eaten those two donuts this morning.
They don’t usually bother me, but I’m also not normally vibrating the innards of my body atop a huge engine either, so who knows.
Jake and Rachel get a little farther down the trail after my brief stop, so I decide to take the opportunity to test out my ability to go a little faster while I catch up.
I mash down on the throttle, and I take off like a rocket. The wind feels invigorating in my hair as trees whip past me, and a thrill I’ve never felt before runs down my spine.
I laugh maniacally and push the throttle down even farther. Hell’s bells, this feels good! I can’t believe I’ve never done it before.
Rolling and raging, I don’t quite notice that the trail turns sharply ahead until I’m right on top of it.
I panic, trying to find the brake and missing completely as I shoot over the side of the trail and up into the woods without much finesse. It’s bumpy and thick, and I’m thrown up toward the handlebars violently. I shriek as the front of the four-wheeler comes to a bone-jarring stop against a small tree, and my whole body whiplashes back.
My thumb is still plastered to the throttle, and only then, sitting there spinning my tires in the mud, do I think to release it.
Holy shit!
Unexpectedly, gentle hands lift me up off the four-wheeler and spin me around. Jake is there, and his eyes look wild in a way I’ve never seen them before—like stormy Caribbean seas.
“Holley, are you okay?” he asks, running his hands down the length of my arms and legs frenziedly.
I start to nod, but my neck is undeniably sore, so I stop that pretty quickly. “I…yeah. Sore, but I’m okay. I’m just dumb.”
“You’re not dumb,” he says, his voice laden with more guilt than is necessary. “I should have chosen something else for today.”
“Jake, it’s not your fault. I got cocky—”
“Is she okay?” Rachel asks from a few feet away, startling me violently back into the reality that I’ve done all this in the middle of their date. Shit, I really have a serious knack for timing.
“Rachel, I’m so sorry,” I try to lean around Jake to say.
Her eyes are narrowed on the way Jake is tending to me, but her voice is understanding. “It’s okay. Just as long as you’re all right.”
“I’m fine,” I try to assure them both.
“Fine? Or fine?” Jake qualifies, and I smile at the memory of our conversation at breakfast in the diner.
“Fine fine. The real kind.” Jake’s eyes study me closely, so I smile. “You guys should go on, have your picnic. I’ll just…wait here for you to come back.”
“I don’t think we should—”
“No,” Rachel interjects easily. “It’s fine. We can get Holley back to the parking lot, and then figure out what to do from there.”
“Guys—”
“Holley, Rachel is right. We—”
“Just go on!” I almost shout, the pressure of the situation and the resulting embarrassment finally building up to a breaking point. My dignity is back at the beginning of my knobby tire track somewhere. “I’ll be okay. Really.”
Jake looks at me closely as I beg him with my eyes. “Please, Jake. Just go… I’ll be okay here. I have my lunch with me. I’ll eat it and rest, and then we can deal with this thing when you’re done.”
When he still looks ready to protest, I reach up, grab his chin between my fingers, and make his head nod for him.
He scowls but, finally, complies. I have a feeling Rachel’s hand on his back has at least a little something to do with it.
They both turn and head back up the trail for their four-wheeler, Jake glancing back to look at me every few feet or so.
I smile for his benefit and climb up onto the seat of the four-wheeler I parked against a tree. It’s as fine a place to sit as I’ve ever seen, and I definitely need to sit down.
Before long, the rumble of their four-wheeler starting up shakes its way through the trees, fading slowly away as they carry on to the lake.
I don’t look up.
I can’t. All I can do is take my turkey sandwich out of the front compartment and wait for the locusts to descend.
I mean, it seems like it’s probably about time for those fuckers to make their appearance in my personal Armageddon.
Jake
I pull the four-wheeler to a stop at the edge of the lake and kill the engine. Rachel’s breasts pull away from my back as she looks up and takes in the view.
“Wow,” she says with a smile in her voice. “This is pretty great. I can’t believe I’ve never been here before.”
I do my best to concentrate on her as she speaks, but I have to admit, a large portion of my mind is still standing next to Holley’s four-wheeler, parked right against a tree. She looked a little shaken, but overall, no worse for the wear.
But Christ, I didn’t want to leave her there by herself like that. The only reason I did—and I do mean only—is because she looked so embarrassed, so ready to fall into a sinkhole and let it swallow her up, that another minute with Rachel and me there, staring at her, probably would have made her do it.
Not to mention, she all but shoved me away. Hell, I was a little afraid she’d use some unknown connection with the Air Force to call in a raid if I didn’t leave her be.
“That’s part of its charm,” I say, trying to focus on Rachel. “Not many people know about it, so it’s never overcrowded.” I put a finger to my lips and smile. “Don’t let the secret get out, okay?”
She laughs, and while it’s not obnoxious like Bianca’s, it doesn’t set my chest on fire with satisfaction either.
Back in the day, Wendy used to laugh at my jokes like I was the funniest person in the world. Like I alone could make or break her day with a simple joke.
We were young, obviously, and despite being pregnant with a child together, not entirely serious, but there was something about us that clicked. I was constantly chasing the high of making her laugh because I got intense satisfaction out of her happiness.
“Want to set up our picnic over there?” Rachel asks, pointing to a grassy spot under a big shade tree and bringing my wandering mind back to her once again.
“That looks great,” I agree, picking up the basket and blanket and carrying them over to the ground under the tree. I make quick work of spreading it out, and Rachel climbs on top, grabs the basket, and starts setting out the food.