Safe on the Mountain

by Alexandria Thayer

  I let out a deep laugh. Fuck, she’s cute. Before I realize what I’m saying, I tell her, “Honey, I’m already caught.”

  Her eyes go wide and her cheeks are glowing pink. Well, fuck me. That was way too much to say. Damnit. Maybe I can blame it on the whiskey - I have killed about four glasses while Callie cooked. But if I’m being honest, it was a honest comment.

  Callie finally lets out a giggle and digs into her own plate. The weirdness wears off and we’re left with our companionable silence again. What did she think of that comment? I guess I have pretty good guess: it scared the shit out of her.

  Callie picks out pieces of chicken without the sauce and fried bits to toss down to Cookie. I forgot the dog was even here, she’s so quiet. Thank goodness for a well-behaved animal. We finish up the meal, catching glances at each other smiling. I offer several more compliments about the food. Seriously, Callie knows what she’s doing.

  “Well, I’ve got a few things to do for the horses, but if you want to stay, we could watch a movie...or whatever you want…?” I offer, hoping she takes me up on it. I’m not ready for her to leave.

  “I should probably go. I only brought a little food for Cookie and I still don’t know where I’m driving out in the woods.”

  “Ah, well, okay.” I say deflatedly. “I guess I can walk you to your car.”

  We make our way outside and Callie shivers as she crosses the threshold of the back door. It’s less than fifty yards to her car, but I want it to last a lot longer. She’s a step in front of me, and the glow of my porch motion light illuminates the perfect roundness of her hips and ass. Don’t get hard right now, Brock, you idiot.

  She opens her door and puts Cookie on the passenger seat in a nest of towels. This dog definitely runs her life.

  I lean on the car door, hoping Callie will turn around. She finally does, smiling, but not making eye contact. The toe of her boot is grinding into the dirt.

  “Thanks for dinner. Or, er, letting me make dinner. It was fun,” she almost whispers. The porch light is shining on her neck now. I wonder what she tastes like there when she suddenly reaches her arms up around my neck. She’s hugging me.

  My arms slip around her waist. I want to squeeze her tighter against me, but I know this should be chaste. Callie stands on her tip-toes to reach up to me, and I feel her breasts press against my chest. My hands brush the smooth part of her back as her sweater rides up.

  “Thank you, again,” she whispers into my neck, then slides back down me. Did she mean to let those glorious breasts stay pressed against me as she let herself down?

  “I better go.”

  “Be safe,” I say, backing up as she climbs in the car. “Actually, how about I get your number? Then you can text me when you’re home safe.”

  “Okay...” she trails off as she digs in her purse. I’m awkwardly standing there for a few seconds, until she pulls out a card and passes it my way.

  “The number there is my cell. Just text me and I’ll let you know when I’m home.” She’s rolled down her window and closed her door now.

  “Callie Porter - Digital Marketing” is printed across the card with a number and email. I smile, knowing I just jumped a huge hurdle getting this number.

  “Sounds good,” I say, tapping the roof of her car. “Goodnight, Callie.”

  Callie

  The next few days are busy - or at least I try to make them that way. Brock and I text for a bit once I got home that night, and he’s text me a few times to check in since.

  Brock: You doing good?

  He’s either very attentive or just doesn’t know what else to text about.

  I’m good. Lots of projects lately, so a little brain dead and stressed

  What can I do to help?

  If the answer to that question was simple, I’d probably have a lot less therapy bills to deal with right now. I’m in the middle of building some reports, and it’s business hours for most clients, so I try not to get distracted with Brock’s texts.

  Thirty minutes later, head cleared of numbers and data, I answer Brock.

  You don’t need to do anything! I’m fine

  How about a date?

  Whoa. Well, that’s bold. I couldn’t make myself get dressed and cute for a date today if my life depended on it.

  Oh, Lord. I don’t have the energy for a date today

  Well, what can cheer you up then?

  Honestly? Lots of take out Thai food and something mindless on Netflix would be an ideal evening

  Done. Come to my house around six?

  Oh! Okay. Yes, I’ll be there :)

  Wow. Are we having the most laid back date on record tonight? This is the first time I’ve felt giddy about seeing a guy in months. It’s refreshing.

  I power through client work, trying to keep my mind from drifting to thoughts of Brock. Looking forward to a date is a strange feeling for me nowadays - and I don’t mind it at all.

  Brock

  I’ve got four hours to find some Thai food for Callie. I’m more of a meat and potatoes guy - I’ll take a burger anytime, anywhere. But I can put up with some weird food if it means Callie will come over.

  I’m reading Yelp reviews on Thai food restaurants in Denver, trying to find a decent place. I settle on a place with a 4.6 star rating in Lakewood - at least it’s on my side of town.

  I could make this a quick trip and ignore the slew of texts I’ve gotten from my mom recently. But I feel some obligation. I did skip Thanksgiving for “training a new horse” so the least I can do is stop in and say hi.

  If I know my mom like I think I do, she’s at home gossiping with some other politicians’ wives over a glass of tea this time of day. Sweet tea, actually. I keep forgetting that Callie and my own mother are from the same place - they seem like polar opposites. The thought of Callie’s obsession with sweet tea makes me smile. I can pick up some of that for her on the way back, too.

  I pull into my parent’s driveway, my dirty truck sticking out like a sore thumb next to their shiny sports cars. I don’t see my brother’s vehicle anywhere, so that’s a good sign. Less people to deal with.

  Pushing through the back door, I feel a tiny spark of nostalgia coming back to me. I called this house my home for years, up until my eighteenth birthday. I packed up that day to live on the ranch. My mom wasn’t happy about it, and I got plenty of mocking from my older brother. But no one could tell me “no” when I was a hot-headed teenager.

  I wander through the mud room to the back of the kitchen to hear the voices of a few woman - my guess was right. As I round the corner into the hearth room, four coiffed heads of hair turn my direction.

  “Ah, my prodigal son, finally gracing this house with his presence,” mom announces, standing to give me a cold, short hug.

  “Good to see you mom,” I tell her, trying to play nice in front of her friends.

  The other ladies say their hellos, eyeing my worn flannel and boots. Once again, the black sheep Brock stands out against the rest of the proper Skinner family. The judgement rolls right off me - I’ve felt it for years. It’s just a numb reminder of their own vanity now.

  “Is something going on?” my mom asks, obviously surprised by my visit.

  “Just here to say hello,” I answer, as the goofy friends comment on how sweet of a son I must be. They’re sorely mistaken, but I won’t correct them.

  “Can y’all excuse me for a second?” mom tells rather than asks as she shoos me into the kitchen.

  “What’s wrong?” Her tone changes as soon as we’re alone.

  “Nothing. I was in the city and decided -”

  “Oh, you can show up unannounced here but you can’t come to your father’s fundraiser?” she starts to scold me. “I don’t know why we even try with you, Brock. All you want to do is stay up on that awful mountain and -”

  “Mom, can you not just appreciate that I came by to say hello? That’s all this is, okay?” I explain. “I’m trying to be nice and just see how you are.”r />
  Her eyebrows go up, surprised by my pushback. She purses her lips and pours herself more tea, letting me finish.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t go to that fundraiser. I couldn’t make it that night and I just wanted to come apologize and see how everyone was doing.”

  She eyes me, looking me up and down, probably mentally taking notes of all the things she doesn’t like about me wearing work clothes in her spotless house.

  “This is just unusual for you. You don’t just ‘drop in’,” she says, putting air quotes around the dropping in part. “I don’t know what to think,” she adds with a huff.

  “Well, things are going well lately. I...well, to be honest, I met a girl and -”

  “A girl? Oh, Brock, that’s wonderful! What’s her name? What’s she like? When can we meet -”

  “Mom, it’s all really new and I don’t even know if it’s gonna work out, so just relax-”

  “No, no, no. I want to meet her,” she exclaims, ignoring me to find her date book. She starts flipping through pages, chattering to herself about scheduling a dinner.

  “Mom. It’s way too soon to plan that, okay? Let me get to know her a little better and if things work out, we can talk about a meeting.”

  Deflately, she flips her calendar closed.

  “Ugh, just let me have this, Brock. I never thought you’d want to date anyone, so this is exciting for a mother!”

  Always about her, as usual.

  “Alright, mom, well I need to get going. I’ll let you know how it goes, okay?”

  “Fine, fine,” she says, rolling her eyes. I peek back into the hearth room to say my goodbyes to her friends and give my mom a quick hug. As I retrace my steps out the back door, I let out a sign of relief: telling her anything, much less something about a girl, was huge.

  Hopefully, that can make up for skipping Thanksgiving. Now, it’s time to get this Thai food order figured out.

  Callie

  Finishing up today’s work was harder than I thought. I got off the clock and rushed to put some makeup on and pick an outfit. If we’re doing this date like he says we are, we’ll be lounging around, pigging out on pad Thai. Leggings seem like the best option for this.

  I pull on a loose sweater - always a good idea to hide the food baby I’m bound to have tonight. I finish up with a messy bun and a few swipes of mascara - momma would disapprove of me seeing a man without full makeup, but tonight is about being comfortable. And I doubt Brock could care less.

  Cookie and I drive over to Brock’s and I’m still amazed by the view of this place as I park in the driveway. He’s outside in a heartbeat, smiling my way. A tingle of butterflies lights up my insides.

  He grabs me into a bear hug, picking me up off the ground. I’ll never get over how strong he is.

  “Well, hello to you too,” I get out, giggling and breathless from Brock’s grip. He seems to be in a good mood. Great, even.

  “You ready for some food?” he asks.

  “I’m starving,” I tell him, gathering up Cookie and her bed so she can relax with us. “Do you like Thai?”

  “I’ve never had it,” he tells me, opening the back door for me to come through. I’m hit by mouthwatering smells. It’s that perfect balance of sour and spicy, like my favorite Thai dishes.

  His dining room table has probably a dozen to-go containers across it. I see chicken satay, pad Thai and what I’m assuming to be a few different curries.

  “You got all this?” I ask, amazed. Did he really go to all this trouble?

  “Well, I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I told them to give me the most popular stuff they have. I hope that was okay…” he trails off.

  “It’s seriously perfect,” I tell him, beaming as I look up into his eyes. That seems settles his nerves. He nods, passing behind me to get us plates. As he goes, his hand brushes against my lower back and I get a moment of his warmth against my skin.

  As Brock readies the food, I can’t keep the smile off my face. He had to have gone all the way into the city to get this - little Idaho Springs doesn’t have a neighborhood Thai joint. I can’t remember the last time a guy did anything this thoughtful for me.

  “Thank you for this,” I say, turning to face the kitchen. “It’s really sweet.”

  “Don’t mention it,” he says, winking my way. “Did you want sweet tea?”

  “You made tea?” I almost squeal.

  “Well, no, nothing that special. I bought it, but I thought that was better than nothing,” he smiles shyly.

  I can’t help but giggling as I take my first refreshing sip of ridiculously sweet tea.

  “This is Chick-fil-a tea, right?” I ask, knowing I’m on the money.

  “How’d you know?”

  “A Texan always knows her tea,” I joke. I feel my inner anxiety uncoiling itself. This is the night I needed. Good food, yummy tea, and a sweet mountain man to keep me company. Maybe I can let myself enjoy tonight, rather than over analyzing everything that happens.

  I guide Brock through all my favorites, explaining the best dishes I’ve had and loading his plate high with noodles and satay and peanut sauce. I make my own plate equally full, pushing away my worries about my weight for tonight.

  We laugh and joke, and I can’t help but make fun of his weariness of the foreign food. We get settled on the couch with a respectable gap between us and start a goofy comedy on Netflix.

  As the movie rolls by, I can feel Brock’s eyes on me. I try to keep mine on the screen, but fail miserably. I glance his way and one side of his lips curls into a smile. Heat, nerves, and happiness bloom in my chest.

  I turn away, readjusting to sit on my feet, tucking my cold toes underneath me.

  “Are you cold? I’ve got blankets over here.” He reaches across my lap to the other end of the couch to pull a blanket over my legs. I sigh as the thick fabric settles over me, warming up my feet and legs.

  “Thank you,” I say. He’s lingering closer to me, his arm around the back of my seat. His eyes are on me, studying me. I know I’m blushing and I feel like a ridiculous middle schooler for it. What is Brock doing to me?

  I keep my eyes cast down, hoping he doesn’t try to kiss me. I’m not ready for that just yet. And I don’t know what it might lead to.

  “You know you’re gorgeous, right?” he says, almost whispering.

  “Oh good lord,” I smile. Why does he have to be so damn sweet? I pick at the edge of the blanket, nervous as I’ve ever been around him. “Thank you.”

  “You wanna come over here?” he asks, eyebrows raised. He puts his arm on the back of the couch, opening up a space for me. To cuddle. Right next to him.

  Brock

  Callie looks terrified.

  “It’s okay if you don’t want to,” I tell her, hoping to ease the tenseness I can see in her shoulders and jaw.

  “I want to. I just… I’m sorry. I -”

  “You have someone back in Texas?” I ask her before I can stop myself. What a fucking idiot. If she didn’t think I was lovesick puppy for her already, she must think I’m a complete fool now.

  “Oh, God, no,” she says, letting out a dry laugh. “That’s not it at all. I just… I’m sorry. I’m being silly. ”

  I have no clue what to say to that. I don’t want to make her feel like she has to come over here next to me. Even so, she sits up onto her knees and pulls the blanket along with her as she crawls across the couch to me.

  If she only knew how delicious the dip of her back and curve of her ass looks from here. I mentally reign myself in before I get hard, knowing she’ll be inches from my business in a second.

  She scoots her shoulder under mine, tentatively sinking into her spot next to me. I feel her body’s tenseness and start to feel on edge myself. I keep my arm on the back of the couch, letting her take the lead on where she wants to position herself.

  Callie’s thigh rests against mine and I’m hyper-aware of the heat her body is putting off. She adjusts her blanket and get settled in the c
rook of my arm, finally resting her cheek on my shoulder. We both let out a sigh and I feel the slight weight of her start to press against me - she’s relaxing.

  I stay stock-still, hoping to keep her here next to me. Her hair is putting off a delicious floral scent and I can feel the soft rush of air from her breathing through my shirt. I don’t want any of that to go away.

  A funny scene starts up on our movie, giving her a chance to laugh and loosen up. My fingers are itching to slide down her back and pull her closer to me, but I grip the back of the couch instead. This feels like I’m sixteen all over again - I can’t figure out the simplest move to make with a woman.