by Jill Shalvis
being on the mountain in the morning was his favorite time. The air was crisp with a hint of the warmth the day would bring, and the residual dew made everything sparkle. Far above, the majestic peaks were still snow-tipped. The ground beneath their feet was soft and spongy from the rain, everything around them bursting with fall colors.
“So,” he said after a few minutes. “Why exactly aren’t we going to follow through with this thing between us?”
“There is no thing, TJ.”
“Really? ’Cause it felt like a thing this morning when I made you come.”
She tripped, and sent him a glare. “No-talking zone.”
He grinned. She was walking with attitude, and she was sexy as hell. “You want me,” he said.
“No talking.”
“I want you back,” he told her. “I think I’ve proved that. So what’s the problem?”
“My problem?” She stopped so abruptly he nearly plowed her over when she whipped around to gape at him. “It’s you! It’s always been you!”
He raised a brow.
She blew out a breath and pushed him in front of her to walk in the lead. “You drive me crazy,” he heard her mutter.
“Maybe, but you’re watching my ass as I walk.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a great ass,” she admitted, surprising a laugh out of him. After about five minutes, she sighed. “Okay, it’s possible I overreacted back there.”
“No. Really?”
“My problem isn’t you, per se,” she said. “But more the way I seem to react to you.”
“Is that an apology?”
“For what?”
“For molesting me in my sleep.”
“I was kind of hoping we could forget about that.”
Normally that would be fine with him. After all, he never begged a woman to want him, and he didn’t plan to start now. If she hadn’t been interested, he would have let it go.
But she was interested. Interested enough to come all over him, panting his name as she did. It’d been erotic as hell.
Which left him confused. He glanced back at her. She was small and curvy, and walking with an attitude that was making him hot.
Oh, wait.
He was already hot.
Their little wake-up call might have cooled her jets, but his were still on and ready to go.
Halfway up to the impaired camera, they came to a natural gorge. Just on the other side, up about fifty more feet, was the ledge where the camera was placed. Between there and where they stood was what was normally just a low-lying creek. But the rain had it swollen and rushing like a raging river. It was a good twenty feet wide, knee-deep in the middle, and roaring over slippery rocks. Worse, on either side, the banks were muddy and unstable.
Harley was standing at the edge with a funny look on her face.
“What?” he asked.
“There are frogs.”
“There are always frogs. Especially after a rain.”
“Doing it.”
He looked down at the rocks she was staring at. Yep, she was right. There were frogs doing it.
“Don’t stare,” she said, and made him laugh.
“Maybe there’s something in the air,” he said hopefully, and then it was her to turn to laugh.
She moved a little bit downstream and then closer to the edge of the water just as a fish leapt straight up into the air and then dove back under. With a startled gasp, Harley took a step back and caught her heel on a rock. She would have gone down, but TJ caught her.
Instead of pulling immediately free of him, she turned within the circle of his arms to face him, further surprising him when her fingers fisted in his shirt.
“You okay?” he asked, holding onto her. “Your ankle?”
“I’m good.” And yet she didn’t let go. Instead she stared up into his eyes.
TJ wondered what she saw when she looked at him like that, all soft and unguarded, as if maybe she saw things in him that he didn’t, couldn’t. And suddenly he felt unguarded, and before he could stop himself, he dipped his head and ran the tip of his nose along her jaw.
“Time to cross,” she said shakily, and turned to stare at the water. Then, without another word, she started to step into it.
“What are you doing?”
“I need to get to the other side.” She looked at him over her shoulder. “You can wait here if you want. Or—”
“Yeah, yeah, or head back. Just hold up a minute.” He took her hand, and waited until she met his gaze. “Trust me?”
“With my life or my body?”
He shook his head and guided her farther up the mountain, out of their way. About a quarter of a mile later, the water slowed and narrowed, but more important they weren’t near a sharp turn, with an unsteady and precarious hillside that looked as if it might go at any moment.
She looked at the new spot, then at him, conceding. “Your knife, your Fritos, your expertise. You’re a handy guy, TJ.”
“Handy,” he repeated, and watched her expression change as she remembered just how “handy” he’d been in the sleeping bag.
“I didn’t expect the water to be this high this late in the season,” she admitted.
“Fall can be risky.” He looked around and found a wrist-thick, chest-high stick with a natural fork at one end for wedging between rocks, which he handed to Harley. “Use this as a staff.”
He searched the thick growth for another one for him, then grabbed her arm when Harley would have headed across. “Wait. Lose your shoes and socks first.”
He kicked his boots off and attached them to his backpack by their laces, then rolled up his pants. “We’ll have better traction in bare feet. Plus, having dry shoes on the other side will be a bonus.”
She bent and untied her boots and pulled off her socks, stuffing them into her pack.
He smiled at her bright pink toenails, and knew it was yet another peek into the complicated psyche of Harley Stephens. She worked as a mechanic, a woman in a man’s world. If she wasn’t covered from head to toe in coveralls and grease, then she was behind a desk analyzing data by herself. The toenails seemed to be her concession to being a woman beneath it all. “Pretty. Come on.” He went first, sucking in a breath as the icy water washed over his feet and halfway up his calves.
“Holy shit!” she squeaked, following him.
Grinning, he reached back for her hand and led the way.
CHAPTER 12
On the other side of the creek, Harley shivered as they climbed to dry ground. “Nothing like a refreshing stream to wake a girl up.”
“Really,” he said dryly. “Is that what woke you up, or was it when I—”
“Stop,” she said with a low laugh, and shivered—and not from the cold.
TJ smiled at her, his eyes warm with approval as he handed her a chamois from his backpack to dry off her feet. “I’ve taken groups out here for fly-fishing in the streams, biking up nonexistent trails, rock climbing off the cliff. Tough, experienced clients in much warmer temps than this, and every one of them would have been whining at what we just did. Hell, even Cam would be complaining.”
“So I’m tougher than Cam?”
He grinned. “Much.”
His smile had the usual effect on her, meaning she was rendered momentarily stupid. She was sitting on a rock, pulling her socks from her shoes, when he sat next to her, thighs touching. And then his hands were on her shoulders, turning her, pulling her back to his chest to whisper in her ear. “Across the water, two o’clock.”
A hundred yards over a black bear stalked the edge of the water, walking away from them, her shoulders moving powerfully with each step. Behind her rollicked two bear cubs, waiting for mama to catch breakfast.
Harley’s breath caught in her throat as she slipped her hand into her backpack for her camera and started snapping.
They watched in awed silence as the bear charged into the churning water, splashing, pouncing, striking out with a plate-sized paw, coming back up with
a large fish in its mouth. Fur dripping, she turned to her babies, who were far more interested in romping at the water’s edge than eating. Mama admonished them with a nudge, and they wandered off.
When they were gone, Harley realized she was practically in TJ’s lap, and his arms were around her. “Don’t get much of that from behind my computer.”
He watched as she put away the camera and reached for her shoes. “This Colorado job. It’s a research position then? No fieldwork?”
“Almost all research, with very little if any fieldwork.”
He didn’t say a word. And she didn’t either. But she thought maybe he was wondering why she’d chosen research instead of field study.
At the moment, she was wondering the same. Concentrating on that, she tugged her laces tight, and one snapped off in her hand. “Crap.”
TJ went to his pack and pulled out the same pouch he’d pulled out the other night, the one that had held the smaller bag of Fritos. From it he withdrew…dental floss. “Shoelace.”
She stared at it, then slowly took it out of his fingers. “I think I’m in love with your backpack.”
“And my sleeping bag.”
“Yeah. That, too.”
“And my sexy bod.”
She slid him a look. “What did I tell you about that?”
“You said not to bring up your sexy bod. I didn’t do that. I brought up mine.” He smiled innocently. “So what else are you in love with?”
When she didn’t say a word, he smiled. “Let me guess. Me.”
“Ha.”
He went quiet a moment. “There are all kinds of love, Harley.”
This stopped her. “How many kinds?”
“Well, there’s the deeply affectionate kind,” he pointed out. “Like you’d feel for family. Although sometimes it’s more…murderous than deep affection.”
“I’ll buy that,” she said.
“And then there’s the love you feel for someone you’re attracted to.”
“You mean lust,” she corrected.
“That, too, but I’m talking about more than one hot night. Like maybe you want to be with that person—for now.”
She eyed him, curious. Was he talking about them? “Without the commitment.”
“Yeah.”
“For people who have a short attention span, or are afraid to go deeper.”
“Maybe.”
“Like every fling you’ve ever had?” she asked sweetly.
“Calling the kettle black?”
“Hey, I haven’t had a fling in forever,” she said.
“It’s not the quantity…”
Knowing he was right, she held her tongue. For a moment. “I’ve never known you to be afraid of anything. I mean, I’ve seen you huck yourself off a cliff with your brothers with just a snowboard on your feet and live to tell the tale. I’ve seen you hanging off a rock that you free-climbed without a rope, nothing saving you from certain death except your own fingertips. Hell, I’ve even seen you face down a pissed-off rattlesnake.”
His eyes never left hers. “Those are all physical things.”
“You saying you’re afraid of something as simple as an emotion?”
He didn’t respond—which she supposed was answer enough. Who was she to press the issue, because when it came to that particular fear, they were in perfect accord. “So say you’re right,” she said, needing to lighten the mood. “And that there are all kinds of love.
“Yeah?”
“Then I guess it is entirely possible that I love you.”
He tripped over his own feet, something she’d never, ever, seen him do, and she smiled. “In the way I loved watching those bears,” she continued. “With a healthy respect and a good amount of distance for my well-being.”
“Now who’s the funny one?” he asked.
TJ followed Harley to the broken surveillance equipment on the ridge. She’d put on a pair of sunglasses and some ChapStick, both having taken her a good long time to find in her backpack, which made him shake his head.
But God, he loved to watch her.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“You’re smiling.”
“All right. Maybe”—he stroked a finger over her temple—“maybe I love you, too.” He heard her breath catch. “In the same way that we both loved that hungry, grumpy bear.”
She let out a low laugh. “So we’re even.”
“Even.”
At the ridge, Harley sat next to the nonfunctioning camera equipment and got to work while TJ accessed his messages. Stone had two client calls for him to return regarding new upcoming winter trips. Good. Cam needed TJ to go for a tux fitting before Katie killed him—not good. And Nick had a question for Harley. “Nick wants to know if you’ve kicked my ass yet.”
“It’s still a possibility.”
TJ grinned. “Do you want to check in with anyone?”
“Most definitely not.” She shrugged at his unspoken question. “The joys of family.”
There were plenty of times he and his brothers drove each other halfway to the insane asylum, but they had each others’ backs, always.
Harley’s parents weren’t together, but they got along. They didn’t get drunk and beat on their kids, they’d always managed to put food on the table, and yet he knew, sweet and kind as they were, that Harley absolutely did not get the same support from her family that he got from his.
Her parents let their whims drive them. Whatever happened, happened. Harley had always needed more than that whimsical existence, and her hopes and dreams baffled her family. They loved her but didn’t understand her.
In spite of that basic lack of understanding and support, Harley had grown up incredibly strong, solidly grounded, and was the most softhearted person he knew. Not that she’d thank him for that assessment. She didn’t like to be soft, and she didn’t do need. Ever. “I know you’re working so hard to help out your parents,” he said. “And Skye. If you ever need—”
“I don’t.” She glanced over and sent him a smile to gentle her tone. “And you’d do the same thing if you had to for your family. You have done the same thing.”
So she remembered. Remembered what it was like for him to be the oldest, to put everything in his teenage life aside to make sure Cam and Stone were cared for. “That was all a long time ago.”
“You don’t talk much about growing up,” she said quietly. “Even though I know it was bad. Especially when your father was still alive.”
Everyone in Wishful had known his father and his infamous temper. He’d been a pro bull rider who’d been rough on his animals and rougher on his sons. Mostly the youngest, Cam, who TJ had stepped in to protect whenever he could, usually at his own peril. “Like I said, it was a long time ago.”
“And yet you make sure to spend as much time away from here as you can.”
“I’m an expedition and adventure guide,” he said. “By the very
