by Lacey Black
“Keep your paws to yourself there, buddy. But yes, this is Quinn. Quinn, this is Tito Masters, manager of the SkyLift.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Quinn. When you get tired of this guy, you give me a call,” Tito adds with a wink.
Quinn giggles. “Nice to meet you too, Tito. I’ll definitely keep you in mind,” she states with a wink of her own.
“All right, all right. You take care of me, Tito?” I ask, taking Quinn’s hand and following behind the manager.
He guides us to the lines for the skylift, moving us around the ropes where customers wait for their ride up the mountain. No one says anything as Tito steps up and waves to the attendant manning the lift. “Your chariot awaits,” he says, as a trio disembarks the lift and the chair swings around to where we wait.
“Thanks, Teet. I owe ya one,” I say, taking his hand and giving him another one-armed bro-hug.
“You do. I’ll collect soon.” Tito throws Quinn a wave and takes off, probably to head back to the office.
“Here we go,” I say, guiding her to turn around as the cart approaches.
“When you feel the seat at your knees, have a seat and enjoy the view,” the slightly bored attendant says just as the bench seat hits the backs of our knees, causing us both to fall back and sit.
Quinn glances around, a touch of apprehension in her body language. I reach over and take her hand again and relax into the seat. I’ve taken a skylift a million times since my time in Tennessee, so this is no big deal for me, but someone like Quinn, who’s more reserved and likes both feet safely on the ground, well, she might not be as excited about the experience as I am.
Knowing I need to take her mind off the fact we’re slowly climbing up the mountain, I start telling her about the history of the business. I already shared some of the key points during her zipline trip, but nothing about the company that owns a huge part of the mountain. “Have you ever been up to the city?” I ask, referring to the small tourist trap at the top of the mountain.
“Would you think less of me if I said I hadn’t?” she asks, glancing my way, yet keeping an eye on the landscape around her.
“No way,” I reply quickly.
“When I was younger, we went up the small lift. At the time, there wasn’t much up there, and I was too chicken to get off the lift and explore around at the lookout. My friends teased me relentlessly,” she confesses.
I squeeze her hand. “Well, I won’t tease you,” I reassure her, giving her a smirk as I add, “much.”
She smiles widely and seems to relax a little more. We’re already more than halfway up, so I go ahead and point out some of the landmarks in the scenery, including where our zipline appears beneath us. We actually get to watch someone coming down one of our lines. “That’s pretty awesome,” she says.
After a few more minutes, we finally approach the platform at the top of the mountain. The attendants are there, giving us the directions I already know by heart, one happily assisting Quinn out of her seat. There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips as he helps her move out of the way of the lift, which starts to turn to pick up riders heading back down.
The moment I’m clear of the lift, I give the guy a pointed look and practically drag Quinn away, like the caveman asshole I suddenly am. All I need to do is pound on my chest and smash her over the head with my club to complete the image.
I don’t, of course.
“Come on, let’s head over to the lookout. If you’re feeling brave, you can see the city from one of my most favorite spots,” I say, as we head in the direction of where dozens of people gather.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Quinn mumbles, more to herself than to me.
“You got this, Bestie Tami with an I. You’re fierce. You’ve ziplined,” I tell her, as we stroll past the masses of tourists and head for the private area for staff.
She looks a little confused as we bypass the spot she thought we were headed, but she doesn’t say anything. Quinn follows along, tentatively glancing over the edge of the mountain or taking in the spectacular view. When we reach the gate, I use my keycard to open the latch, and help guide her through. The moment we’re past, I spy the set-up Tito helped arrange.
“Wow,” Quinn says, stopping in her tracks and taking in the breathtaking scene in front of her.
The landscape of the Great Smoky Mountains is on full display, the sun slowly dropping in the clear, blue sky. We got lucky there’s hardly any wind today, which definitely helped my plans for this evening. “Come on, let’s go check it out,” I say, leading her toward the blanket and basket on the small platform. The concrete platform won’t be the most comfortable, but I’m hoping the blanket helps.
“Is this for us?” she asks, happiness reflecting in those eyes. Not only does it cause a stir in my pants, but in my chest as well.
“It is. Tito helped me set it up,” I confess, as she kneels down on the blanket and sits. When she’s situated, I drop down beside her and reach for the basket. Inside, there are grapes and strawberries, as well as chips, ham and cheese panini sandwiches, and two bottles of water. All things sold at the walk-up food stand in the heart of the city.
“This looks delicious,” she says, once I have everything set on the blanket.
For the next thirty minutes, we sit and eat, chatting about things that happened during the day at work. I still can’t quite believe how easy it is to talk to her or the fact I actually look forward to it. I’ve come to realize she’s the best part of my day, when we can text or chat about the little things that happened.
“This view is breathtaking,” she says, staring out at the landscape in awe.
“It sure is,” I agree, though I’m not talking about the same scene she is. I’m referring to the woman before me, the one who in a matter of days, has embedded herself into my life so easily I didn’t see it coming.
“I come up here sometimes after work. This particular area is a staff platform for breaks and whatnot, but no one ever says anything about me using it. I think in the last year or so I’ve been coming up here, I’ve shared it twice with a staff member. But they have to provide them with an area for breaks. Most just hang at the foot stand or head out to the treehouses.”
“Treehouses?” she asks, her eyes sparkling.
“Yep. Complete with rope ladder walkways and everything.”
“Can I see?” Her enthusiasm makes me laugh.
“Of course. They don’t close for another hour tonight, so we’re in no rush to head down,” I say, gathering up our trash and making sure it’s secured in the bin. I place the basket along the gate and reach for her hand. The wind picks up at that exact moment, sending tendrils of blonde hair sweeping around her head like a mini halo. With the setting sun behind her, I can’t help but stop and just stare. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
And not just on the outside.
I reach for my phone before I can even stop myself. The old bachelor in me would be ashamed at the thought of taking a selfie, but here I am, flipping my camera around, pulling Quinn into my side, and smiling for the picture. My arms are long, so it’s easy to get plenty of the gorgeous backdrop, even though what’s snuggled into my side might be my favorite view of all.
And she is, snuggled in close, that is.
The top of her head barely hits my shoulder. Her arm snakes around my waist as she grins up at the phone camera. I snap a few different ones, some with her eyes closed and some with mine. I turn my head and nuzzle my nose into her hair, inhaling the scent of her floral shampoo. I don’t even realize I’m still tapping the button, even after she looks up and places her lips against mine.
The kiss ends much quicker than I’d like, and we move in the direction of the treehouses. They’re always a huge draw, especially for the kids. There are several treehouse platforms with rope and wood bridges between them. And the views are outstanding. Even though I haven’t checked them out in a while, they’re still a fun part of the mountain experience.
We jump right in and move from platform to platform, holding hands the entire way. Once or twice, I pull her into my arms and kiss her under the shade of the big trees and then we laugh at the little ones running in and out of the treehouses, their carefree laughter washing over us. When the sun finally starts to drop below the horizon, we head toward the lift to go back down the mountain. There’s a small line, so we spend the time holding hands and stealing kisses. I’ve never been a fan of public displays of affection, but as long as it’s Quinn’s lips I’m tasting, a little PG PDA doesn’t seem so bad.
The moment we settle into the lift, she turns and says, “This has been the best date, Royce. Thank you.”
I slide my thumb over the top of her hand. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you’ve enjoyed seeing more of my mountain.”
“Your mountain?” she teases.
“Yep, mine.”
Like her.
Mine.
Chapter Eighteen
Quinn
“This is a great turn out, Quinn,” Eloise, Grace Private School’s office manager, says.
We’re standing in the doorway of the office, watching the gym fill up with families and city residents, all visiting our school’s book fair. The school spends quite a bit on newspaper and radio advertising, in addition to plastering flyers on just about every flat surface we could find.
And the result is amazing.
“You did a great job on those publicity flyers, Eloise. They’re attractive and appealing to the eye. I’m sure that’s a huge factor in the draw to our event,” I say, taking in the dozens of families wandering through the gymnasium, viewing the racks and racks of books. Several have a few already in hand, which is always a good thing for our profits.
“Oh, definitely attractive and appealing to the eye,” Eloise mumbles, which catches my attention.
I turn her way, but notice her gaze is locked on something in the gym. Trying to follow her line of sight, I realize what she’s seeing isn’t so much something.
But someone.
Royce.
A slow smile spreads across my lips and I start to move before I give myself time to think about it. He’s looking at one of the display tables we set up to showcase some of the featured books available. Funny, he doesn’t look as out of place as I would suspect. He looks rather cozy—and definitely rather gorgeous—as he browses books at a children’s book fair.
I notice several moms glance his way, their eyes lingering a few seconds longer than deemed appropriate, but he doesn’t seem to notice or pay them an ounce of attention. “Fancy meeting you here,” I say as I step up beside him.
His hazel eyes dance when they land on mine, that sexy smile spreading widely across his lips. “Hey, you.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask, rearranging a few of the books in the display that got knocked down.
He seems almost uncertain. “I, uh, you mentioned this was going on, and said it was open to the public?” His statement comes out as a question.
“It is,” I reassure him, placing my hand on his arm. It’s warm to the touch and tanned from his time outdoors every day. “I’m just surprised, that’s all.”
He shrugs, and I swear, I see a blush creep up his neck. “Well, I was headed home from work and remembered you had this event. Thought I’d stop by and see what it was all about.”
“Well, then, let me give you the grand tour.” I place my arm in his and guide him around the room. I show him the many racks of books, from chapter to picture ones, and everything in between. I make sure to smile brightly—maybe with a little extra satisfaction—as we go. I can feel eyes on me, and all it does is make me lean into his warmth just the slightest bit. Not enough to make anyone uncomfortable, but enough for those watching to know he’s with me.
“Thank you for the photo,” I say, as we stroll throughout the gym, referring to the photo of him and Jack I received last night while I was setting up for tonight’s book fair. I don’t tell him I made it my cell phone background the moment I got it.
Royce shrugs. “Jack insisted. He told me my selfie game needed some work.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Well, having him in the photo did add a little something extra.”
“Well, we missed you and didn’t want to call since we knew you were busy.”
Gosh, isn’t he just the sweetest?
“And what’s this?” he asks, as we approach the large table with bins.
“These bins hold the books the teachers have chosen for their classroom libraries. They select books, and families can purchase them for the classrooms. After the book fair is complete, the school uses the funds we’ve raised from the sales to purchase as many of the remaining books as possible.”
“Wow, that’s cool,” he says, thumbing through a few bins. “Have many been purchased?”
“A few,” I state, glancing at the bins. Some classrooms have more than others. It just depends on the parents and whether they have extra disposable income tonight or not.
Royce takes his time and scans the books in the kindergarten bin. When he finds one with a dog on the front, he pulls it out and smiles. I watch as he moves on to the first grade bin and does the same thing. He makes it through all of them, choosing a book for each and every classroom. “Now what?”
I give him a questioning look and realize he means with the books. “Are you…”
“I want to buy each classroom a book.”
Tears suddenly prickle my eyes. I stare up at this incredible man, and no, I’m not referring to his looks—though, those are pretty impressive too. I’m talking about his huge heart. The one who is stepping up and helping every classroom in my school. The man who spent time to pick the perfect books, most of them with dogs on the covers.
I turn away so he can’t see the wetness threatening to fall and scan the cashier’s table. One of the parent volunteers is there, and the line isn’t too long. Slowly, we head for the table. “That’s very generous of you, Royce. You don’t have to do that.”
He shrugs. “I know, but the teachers deserve it. I’ve heard a lot about how funding for school gets worse and worse, and I know you’re a private school, but that doesn’t mean your school couldn’t use a little extra help like any other, right?”
“Right,” I reply, giving him a small smile.
“So, I just thought if I get each teacher a book, that’s one less supply that comes out of their own pockets.”
Suddenly, I hug him. Right there in front of my students, their families, and the faculty of my school, I throw my arms around his shoulders and hug him. Awkwardly, of course, because he’s holding a stack of books, but surprisingly, he doesn’t drop one. “Thank you, Royce.” My eyes meet his. “I mean it. Thank you.”
He leans in and I swear he’s going to kiss me. Part of my brain is screaming not to do it. Not in the middle of a crowded gymnasium. But then there’s the other part of my brain, the one who knows I’m falling in love with this incredible man. As much as I’ve tried to avoid it, told myself falling for him isn’t what either of us want, I went and did it anyway.
I’ve gone and fallen in love with Royce.
He doesn’t actually kiss me but brushes a lock of hair off my forehead. Most of it is pulled back in a tight bun, but there’s a piece that’s fallen from its confines. “Any chance you might care for a visitor later this evening?” he whispers, as we move up closer to the front of the line. “I’d love to have you at my place, but I know you have to work early in the morning, and it would probably be more convenient for you to get up and ready at your place.”
“We could try at your house,” I reply with a casual shrug. “I mean, you have Jack and he’s comfortable there.”
He turns to face me, those intoxicating hazel eyes boring straight into my soul. “You want to stay at my place?”
I give him the slightest grin. “I wouldn’t mind, if it’s all right with you.”
It’s our turn at the front of the line to purchase his
books. He steps forward and hands over his purchases. He pays with his debit card and takes the offered bag. We step aside to get out of the way, and the moment we’re out of earshot, I add, “You do have a hot tub I haven’t been able to experience yet.”
Royce’s eyes burn dark and a wolfish grin takes over his face. “We can’t have that.”
“No, definitely not. The fair will wrap up at eight, but it’ll take a little time to clean up. I can run home, grab a bag, and be at your place by nine thirty.”
He steps forward, the musky scent of his cologne tickling my nose. “I’ll be waiting.”
With a knowing smile, I point to one of the smaller tables by the door. “That’s where you can place the purchased books. Each teacher has their own basket by grade.”
He takes his new books out of the bag and makes sure each one is in the correct basket. “Well, I should probably get home and clean up the running clothes thrown on my bathroom floor,” he says with a chuckle.
“I’ll see you in a little while,” I reply, unable to hide the grin I’m wearing.
Royce leans in again, this time, brushing his lips across mine in a sweet, simple kiss. “I’ll be waiting.”
***
Royce: I know you’re working, but I have a question.
Royce: My brother Rueben and his fiancée Cricket invited us over for dinner. Nothing fancy or anything. Just something on the grill.
Royce: I know we had talked about dinner. If you’d still rather go to a restaurant, we can do that. This is just an option.
It’s just after lunch on a Friday afternoon, and this is the first time I’ve been able to glance at my phone. I spent a big part of the day reviewing the financial reports for last month, including the one for the book fair last Thursday night. The one where Royce surprised me, showing up in support of a school function and buying books for the classrooms. Not only did I meet him at his home later that evening, but we’ve pretty much been together ever since.
I’ve tried not to look too much into it, but it’s hard when he holds me so tightly while he’s sleeping. I never would have thought Royce to be a snuggler, but by God, he’s always reaching for me and pulling me against his naked body. I’m not sure he even realizes he does it, to be honest. He sometimes seems a little shocked himself when he first wakes up.