"We just need a ride to the trail head. His truck is parked there."
"Get in," Corinne insisted, waving us inside. "It's going to rain any minute!"
Taylor followed me into the back of the van.
The moment the tires were in motion, Corinne was full of questions. "Kirby told me you had a new friend." She looked at Taylor in the rearview mirror as if a wild animal were in her backseat. "She was kidding that he's a hotshot, right?"
"No," I said, clearing my throat.
The corners of Taylor's mouth turned up, but he managed to suppress a full smile.
Corinne targeted Taylor again and then looked forward, both hands on the wheel. "Apapa, Falyn," she scolded with a perfect Greek accent. "What would your mother say?" Her words were free of any accent at all.
"A lot probably."
Corinne clicked her tongue and shook her head in disapproval. "Where is he from?"
"Illinois," Taylor said.
Corinne was unhappy that he had addressed her, so her questions ceased. She slowed in the parking lot, and we directed her toward Taylor's truck. She twisted around to watch us exit the van, glaring at Taylor as if she were trying to cast some sort of Greek curse on him with her eyes.
"Thanks, Corinne," I said. "Bye, Kostas."
"Later," he said, still concentrating on his game.
Corinne pulled away, scowling at Taylor, until she decided it was time to watch the road.
Taylor pressed the keyless entry, and I pulled open the door and climbed in, waiting for him to slide in next to me.
"Who was she?" Taylor asked, peeling off his pullover. His T-shirt inched up as he did so, revealing two of his lower abs.
There has to be four more to go along with them and that gorgeous V leading down to his--
Stop.
"That would be Corinne," I said, blinking, "Kirby's mother."
"Was she speaking English?"
"She's Greek. Kirby's dad was Canadian, I think. Corinne wanted to name her Circe, after a Greek witch. The dad nixed it, thankfully. Kirby was the compromise."
"Way to stick to your guns, Canada. Where is he now?"
I shrugged. "All Kirby knows is that he was a hotshot." I left Taylor with that thought, saying nothing else.
We rode down most of the eight thousand feet from Pikes to the Springs in silence. Taylor turned onto Tejon Street before parking his black behemoth directly in front of Bucksaw's entrance.
He climbed out, waiting for me to do the same. Just as my feet touched the asphalt, the sky opened up, and rain began to pour. We ran inside, laughing from exhaustion, surprise, and the embarrassment that had come from Corinne.
Our chuckling died down, an awkward silence becoming the uninvited third presence in the room.
"I'm not bullshitting you," Taylor said. "Is that what your deal is?"
"I don't have a deal. What are you talking about?"
"Thank you, Taylor. You're my best day, too, Taylor. I'm hopelessly in love with your preciously sculpted abs, Taylor," he said, pulling up his shirt to reveal the best thing I'd seen in a while.
I pressed my lips together, stifling a smile. "Are you really still stuck on that? Are you going to cry? Do you need a hug?" I batted my eyelashes and jutted out my bottom lip. He didn't offer any reaction, so I gave in with a sigh. "It was a good day. I sincerely enjoyed every second of it."
"Wow. Don't hurt yourself, Ivy League."
I rolled my eyes and headed for the stairs.
"Hey, we're not finished," Taylor said.
"Then come up," I said.
He followed me, and by the time he had closed the loft door behind him, I was closing the bathroom door behind me.
"I'm going to wash the mountain off of me," I called.
"I'm next!"
Before my hair was fully wet, Taylor was pounding on the door. "Falyn?"
"Yeah?"
"My brother just texted me. He's in town."
"Which one?" I asked, ducking my head under the water.
"Does it matter?" he asked.
"I guess not."
"Tyler, third oldest," he said.
I could almost hear him smiling.
"He's at the hotel now."
"Did you not know he was coming?"
"No. We drop in on each other, unannounced, frequently. Wanna come?"
"To the hotel?"
"To Cowboys."
"Not really."
"Aw, c'mon. You had fun last time, didn't you?"
"I think I'll just stay here."
The door creaked as it opened, and I immediately grabbed the shower curtain, peeking out from behind it.
Taylor crossed his arms over his chest, his inked biceps looking even bigger from lying on top of his fists. "Can I come in? I hate talking to you through the door."
"Whatever."
He slumped his shoulders as he let his arms fall to his sides. "I want you to come. I want you to meet my brother."
"Why?"
He frowned. "What is the big deal? You're going to meet him eventually."
"Exactly."
"He's my roommate in Estes Park."
"So?"
"So ... nothing," he growled, exasperated. "Never mind." He opened the door, but he didn't leave. He slammed it shut and flipped around, a scowl on his face. "Quit it."
"Quit what? I'm just trying to take a shower!"
"Being so ... impervious."
"Impervious? That's a big word for you."
"Fuck off." He opened the door and slammed it behind him.
Not two seconds later, it opened again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."
"Get out of my bathroom."
"Okay," he said. He was comically overwhelmed, looking back at me and at the same time reaching for the knob, missing a few times.
"Get out," I snapped.
"I'm ... going." He finally opened the door and closed it behind him.
I heard the front door slam.
I touched my fingers to my mouth, suppressing the giggle that was desperately attempting to bubble to the surface. I hadn't giggled in a very long time.
The hair dryer made a high-pitched whine loud enough to cover the sounds of Kirby letting herself in. When I saw her standing in the bathroom doorway, I yelped.
She lifted her leg and cowered, her hair and hands covering her face. Once she recovered, she stood up, her fingers balled into fists at her sides. "Why are you screaming at me?"
I switched off the hair dryer. "Why are you sneaking into my bathroom?"
She rolled her eyes, smoothing her hair back. "I knocked."
"What are you doing here?" I said, exasperated.
She pointed to her apron. "I just got off work. I came to check on you."
"Phaedra checked on me half an hour ago. I'm fine," I said, turning to brush out the tangles in my hair. From the mirror, I watched her cross her arms, pouting.
"Gunnar's late again. You don't think he's messing around, do you?"
I turned to her, the brush still in my hand. "No. No way. He worships you."
She leaned against the doorjamb. "I know, but we all have our moments. And he's a guy." Her eyes widened with her last word.
"That's no excuse. But Gunnar doesn't need one. He's not cheating."
She looked at me from under her brow, accepting what she already knew. "Then why doesn't he call? Why doesn't he answer his phone?"
"Because he's driving."
"He can't even text?"
"No! Do you want him to come home, alive? You're being ridiculous," I said, turning back to the mirror. "When does he get his truck back?"
"Tomorrow."
"It's about time."
Kirby eyed my small makeup bag. "You going out?"
"I don't know. Taylor's brother is in town, and he wants me to go to Cowboys to meet them."
Her eyes lit up. "That's a good sign! I guess today went well then?"
"Mostly. We saw your mom at the top. She was picking up Kostas."
&nbs
p; Kirby made a face. "He is obsessed with that trail. He thinks he's going to Macho Pikachu or whatever in Peru."
"Machu Picchu?" I asked.
She nodded.
"Maybe he will," I said.
"He needs to climb something bigger than Pikes Peak."
"Machu Picchu is almost half the size of Pikes Peak, Kirby."
"Stop acting like Phaedra! Did Mom give you a lift into town?"
"To the trail head. Taylor's truck was there. She doesn't like him."
"He's a hotshot. Of course not."
"She Greeked at me."
"Oh. She must have really not liked him."
"Why do you like him?" I asked.
Kirby shrugged. "Just because he's a hotshot doesn't mean he's like my father. Besides, it's hard to dislike someone because he chose a job to save things."
"Things," I said, amused.
"Trees. Homes. People."
"Should I worry that's what's going on here?"
Kirby wrinkled her nose. "He's, like, in his mid-twenties. You think he hasn't come across a damsel in distress before? That's not it. He just likes you."
I opened the cosmetic bag but only stared at the contents.
Blurring lines with Taylor was dangerous. He'd agreed to take me to Illinois. But when? So many things could go wrong between his promise and Eakins. He didn't want my truth now, but what if he required it later? What if there were more conditions?
What if I want more conditions?
Kirby smiled. "Are you wondering if he's worth putting on makeup for?"
I narrowed my eyes. "Get out of my head. I don't understand why he wants me to meet his brother. What purpose would it serve? What would it mean if I did?"
"You need to get out of your own head."
I considered that for a moment. Taylor had been behaving the opposite of what I'd expected from a hotshot, especially one who looked like him. He was all badassery and confidence until I threw him a curveball, and then he'd turned into Jim Carrey.
I had to cover my mouth to stop myself from laughing.
"What's so funny?"
I shook my head. "Taylor, earlier. It's nothing."
Anything more than a chuckle felt foreign in my throat, and Taylor had been the reason for two emotional outbursts. He had held me, made sure I was okay, made plans, and asked me to meet his brother.
For the first time in years, a guy hinting that he was interested in me didn't feel like a violation.
I rubbed on foundation and then ran the mascara wand over my lashes.
After some quick blush and lip gloss, I halfheartedly modeled for Kirby. "Good enough?"
I had made a decent effort at fixing my hair and makeup with the limited tools I had at my disposal, but I still seemed to look the same.
"You look hot. And he's hot. You would make beautiful babies."
My face fell, and I groused at my reflection in the mirror. I was a screwup. Assuming I was going to mess this up, too, was not unreasonable. Taylor had that something about him, more than just charm. He wasn't the asshole he tried to be--at least, not to me.
But is he worth the risk?
"Falyn, go. Stop overthinking it. You spent the entire day together, and you still want to see him. That's saying something, especially for you."
Thinking of the disappointment on his face, I grinned at Kirby. "You make a good point. Wait here for Gunnar."
"Are you sure?"
I grabbed my keys and trotted down the stairs, leaving Kirby alone in the loft.
The muffled music from Cowboys could be heard before I even made it out of the Bucksaw. My heart beat faster, knowing Taylor was less than a block away.
I pushed open the glass door, breathing in the night air. People were passing by in groups, already making their way toward the ridiculously long line snaking down the sidewalk. I wondered if I could slip by even though I wasn't with Taylor.
I sucked in a breath, nerves swirling in my stomach. Something bigger than just a night at Cowboys was about to happen.
Tejon Street was busier than usual with both cars and people. Topless Jeeps full of families and young men and women were cruising up and down at negligible speeds, allowing the pedestrians to intermittently jaywalk to get to one destination or another.
Taylor was standing alone in front of the club, looking around with his hands shoved in his pockets.
"Hey," I said.
His eyes lit up. "Hey."
"Are you ready to go in? Or are you waiting on anyone else?" I asked.
He shook his head once, his eyes pouring over me. "Just you."
I arched an eyebrow and then gave the bouncer a nod. "Hey, Darren."
"Falyn," Darren said.
Taylor and I sailed through, not even expected to pay a cover. I wondered what Taylor had done or who he knew that he could bypass the line. He followed me to the same table we'd occupied before.
He looked at me differently, like we were meeting for the first time.
"Stop acting so surprised," I said.
"I'm not surprised at all." He glanced around the room, and then his eyes were back on me. "I'm just trying to figure you out. Want a drink?"
I shook my head.
He simply nodded, staying put.
"You're not going to get one?" I asked.
"Nope."
The air between us felt weird. He was a million miles away but acutely aware of me at the same time. Something was off.
"You know what? This was a bad idea. I'm going to go," I said, standing.
"What was a bad idea?" he asked.
"Coming here."
"Why? Are you bored already?"
"No. I don't know. I guess I'm just tired. It's been a long day." I sat, feeling drained.
"Yes, it has." He looked out on the dance floor and then to me. "I guess you're too tired to dance?"
Dancing with Taylor had been fun. Being in his arms again was tempting. But it had been too long since I hiked Barr Trail. My legs ached from my hip sockets to my toenails. I had done well with walking across the street and halfway down the block to Cowboys.
"I'm pretty tired. Aren't you?"
He thought about it. "I guess."
The guy who had been huffing and puffing at the summit of Pikes Peak this afternoon guessed he was tired? Why is he acting so strange?
"I've seen a lot of good-looking women in this town," he said.
"Congratulations," I deadpanned.
"But you're fucking gorgeous. Has anyone ever told you that?"
"Just you," I said, staring at him like he was nuts. "I forgot to mention I'm the pariah around here." The irony amused me. When we'd first met, I'd sought to stay away from him and his kind when, in reality, he would be more likely to get a bad reputation from hanging out with me.
"Huh?"
"Nothing. Contrary to popular belief, men don't flock to the town whore."
His face twisted to anger. "Who's called you a whore?"
"To my face? Just my parents."
He seemed taken aback by my answer. "That's crazy."
"I agree."
My reaction amused him.
"Any guy in this town not chasing you is an idiot."
"Why?" I asked. I wasn't sure what his angle was, but he was annoying me with his bizarre antics. "There is nothing about me that would justify that statement."
"Well, for one ... look at you."
"You just said there are a lot of attractive women here, so I'm throwing a bullshit flag, a big bright yellow one."
"That, right there. Most women don't call bullshit. Most women are willing to forgive ninety-eight percent of it just to see if a guy who might be paying attention to them will turn out to be anything more."
"I'd love to see where you got that statistic. GQ?"
"Personal experience. You, however, don't let shit slide. I knew that the second you opened your mouth. You're more than just attractive. You aren't looking for someone, and you need no one. That's hot."
; "You're ridiculous
He leaned in, staring at my lips. "What is ridiculous is the sudden urge I have to kiss that smart-ass mouth of yours."
"What?" I said, swallowing.
He took a few steps around the small table, stopping just inches from me. He was so tall that I had to lift my chin to look him in the eyes. Something had changed since the last time we were together. There was a hunger in his eyes, but it was absent of familiarity, lacking any emotion other than lust.
"I've gotta kiss you. Right now."
"Oh. Okay." The words were more absurd than the scenario, but I was so taken off guard by Taylor's behavior that they were the only things I could say.
I knew my mouth was hanging open a bit, but I couldn't snap it shut. I couldn't move. He inched closer to me, his eyes dropping from mine to my lips and then back again.
His hands slipped around my waist, pulling me to him without a second thought, strong and confident. I closed my eyes, waiting for him, unsure if he was hesitating as a request for permission or if silence was good enough. It wasn't until that instant when I realized I wanted Taylor to kiss me, but the moment didn't feel right, he didn't feel right, and that alone was enough disappointment to ruin everything we'd accomplished so far.
Taylor's lips were warm and soft, exactly like I'd imagined. His tongue was in total control, caressing the inside of my mouth. His hand touched my cheek, his thumb gently running along my jawline and down the side of my neck, but it didn't feel like before.
His mouth worked against mine--amazing, perfect--in a way that would make any woman beg for more. He was fucking me with his mouth before we were anywhere near a bedroom. He was telling me with each soft flick of his tongue that he didn't just want me but needed me. All the while, he was tugging at my clothes as if the kiss wasn't enough.
Nothing. I felt absolutely nothing.
The disenchantment was so overpowering, so disgusting, that I recoiled.
Taylor was still committed to the kiss, slow to recognize me pushing against his shoulders. I lowered my chin, pulling away from him. Then I saw Shea, the bartender, standing still behind the bar, watching us in utter confusion and disgust. Realizing I'd just proven my town-whore status after years of trying to buck the label, I did the only thing left to do. I shoved Taylor away and then slapped the shit out of him.
"What the fucking fuck?" I heard Taylor's voice yell, but he hadn't spoken.
"Holy ginger-licker!" Zeke said.
I turned toward Zeke's voice. Taylor was standing next to him. The other Taylor was less than a foot from my face, and in reaction, my upper body jerked back, nearly sending me off the stool to the floor.
Taylor Number Two rushed behind me, interrupting my fall backward. I yanked away from him. I looked from left to right, as if I were watching a tennis match, in total disbelief.
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