The Mile High Madness

by Anders, Annabelle

  “Yes sir,” he responds. “Most of the staff live in dorms, and management has cabins on the other side of the Lotus Center. Somebody can give you a tour if you’d like. The place is surprisingly huge.”

  “Is that what Miss Richards does?” I ask casually. “Give tours and whatnot?”

  “Charlie?” He grins. “Sometimes. She used to teach yoga and lead hikes. She even handled some of the adventure stuff. Before. Well. You know.” He laughs a little self-consciously.

  “Nice. So, management puts up entire families then? Mom, dad, and kids?” I start to peel a twenty off my wad.

  “A few married couples. Oh, yeah. There is one family. But that’s not an issue for Charlie. She’s alone. Nice digs for sure. She lives in a private cabin. Much better than the dorms.”

  I hand the kid the twenty. “Thanks, Chad.”

  Chad nods and then his eyes slide toward my guitar. “We’re not supposed to do this, but do you think I could get your autograph? I’ve been a huge fan of yours forever.”

  “You play?” His eyes are still on the guitar. I grab a piece of paper from a conveniently placed desk and scribble out a note. My signature’s completely illegible.

  “Since I was twelve.” He takes the paper and grins. “Oh, man. Thank you, Mr. Forrester.”

  “Stop by some night.” The words leave my mouth unchecked. I’m already bored as hell. “I’ll see what you can do.”

  The kid looks like he might burst. “Are you kidding? Oh, man. Oh, man. I will. Thanks again.” He’s backing out of the door like I’m royalty or something. I’m a little surprised he doesn’t bow.

  When he finally closes the door, I fidget with the pen in my hand.

  Alone, huh?

  What kind of asshole would walk away from a woman like that? I pace across the room a few times. No way am I gonna last two weeks.

  I can’t look at a fucking view for two weeks.

  My phone buzzes. A text from Whiskey Creek Guest services. It’s generic. Welcome blah blah blah. But the sender reads Charlotte Richards. Charlie. Her name sounds like a fucking whisper. A whisper. Her names sounds like a whisper. I jot the potential line down on a piece of paper for later.

  I dig Miss VIP Concierge’s card out of my back pocket, satisfied to note it lists her mobile line.

  Me: Weight room?

  Charlie: Absolutely. You can find the location on the map I gave you.

  Me: Don’t see it.

  Charlie. Backtrack the way we came. It’s in the lower level behind the main offices.

  Me: I’m lost. Show me.

  Yes, I’m being an ass. I don’t care.

  Charlie: I’ll send Chad right over.

  Me: Nope. I want you.

  The three dots bounce up and down in the bubble a few times but then stop. Nothing. She’s thinking. I’m VIP. After a full minute my phone buzzes again.

  Charlie: I’ll be right there.

  I stuff my phone into my back pocket and grab a bottle of water from the fridge. On second thought, I grab another one. I’m seriously ready to jump out of my skin.

  My phone goes off, and I instinctively pick up. Max. My manager. Pretty much runs my life most of the time. It’s a distraction from all this… nothingness. “Dude.” I answer.

  “Colt, hey. You at the spa?”

  “Where else would I be?” The bastard knows everything. For a second I’m irritated that he would even ask. Like he’s fucking checking up on me.

  Except I know he’s not really. Just looking out for the band. For me. For all of our careers.

  “Good. Good. Make the most of this, my friend, cause this tour coming up is gonna be epic. I’ve added twelve more venues. Jam packed the line-up.”

  I close my eyes and scrub a hand across my face. I’d already thought the thing was overscheduled. It’s money. Every day we don’t waste on the road is money. Fans. Exposure.

  Max’s tone changes. “Any action up there yet?” And he laughs.

  “Not why I came here.” Hell, I don’t think I even packed any condoms. Lately I feel like I’ve overdosed on cheap women. Like when you’ve eaten too much candy. Not interested.

  “Anything else?” I’m not in the mood for Max. Always looking for a new angle for us. Making deals. Making us all money. He’s a great manager but annoying as hell most of the time.

  “Nada.” He quips. “Enjoy this two weeks man. Seriously. We need you on your game when you come back.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “That’s right,” he comes back. “Top form.”

  “Fuck you.” I disconnect the call.

  I pace to the back porch and then inside again. For an instant, I feel like spiders are crawling all over my skin. I take a long drink of water and catch a glance at the note I’d taken a few minutes ago. I’m losing it. Seriously losing it.

  Three successive raps from the front of the cabin bring relief. Thank God. I’m overthinking this shit.

  When I open the door, she’s wearing an exasperated expression. One brow lifts questioningly. Sexy as hell.

  I shift from one foot to the other. “I’m bored.” I sound like a spoiled piece of shit. It’s been a long time since I’ve had nothing to do. Nobody around me. I’ve lived on a bus with twenty people for the past eighteen months.

  This silence? Not sure I can deal with it.

  She’s watching me thoughtfully but doesn’t say anything.

  “I’m not sure what to do with myself.” And then I grin. “Got any ideas?”

  Her head drops back a few seconds after I catch her rolling her eyes at me. “I thought you said you wanted to find the workout room.”

  “Weight room.” I correct her.

  “Weight room.” Her gaze skates over me. “You wanna change first?”

  I glance down at my jeans and boots. The T-shirt’s fine but… “Hadn’t thought about it.” I scratch the side of my face. “You okay with walking?”

  One delicate hand flutters to the top of her stomach. “It’s strongly encouraged.” And then she bites her bottom lip. “Colt?” Our eyes meet. This is crazy as shit but I’m so fucking attracted to this woman.

  It doesn’t make sense.

  And it’s mutual. I see it in her eyes. The way her breath catches.

  I can smell it. Want. Need. Desire.

  “Can you show me around?” I just want to talk to her right now. Hear her giggle again.

  “Sure.”

  I pass the other water to her and after pausing for a second, she takes it from me. Our hands make contact for that split second and I shake my head. Insane. I gesture to the door with a flourish. “Ladies first.”

  After closing the door behind us, I place one hand on her lower back and the other on her shoulder. Damn, she’s wound tight. I dig my fingers into her muscles. She doesn’t resist. Her head drops back a little, and the low, satisfied moan she exhales shoots straight to my cock. I feel it in every cell of my body.

  “It shouldn’t. But oh, my God, that feels so good.”

  I massage the skin by her neck with my thumb. “When are you due?” I don’t know much about pregnancy. In fact, I’ve spent my entire adult life ensuring that I didn’t.

  “Six weeks,” she answers. She pulls away from me and starts walking again.

  “Where’s the dad?” I’m getting personal. I dig anyway.

  At first, I don’t think she’ll answer. She’s turned us onto the main path before responding.

  “It didn’t work out.” Her answer is vague but confirms what I want to hear. Not that I want her to be alone, exactly. I just don’t like the idea of some faceless bastard touching her.

  She’s in a shit situation. Women like to say they can do everything on their own and all that, but I know better. My mom worked three jobs so she could raise me and my brother. She looks at least ten years older than she really is. I wonder what kind of support Charlie has. Parents? Friends?

  “You scared?” Way too personal. Doesn’t matter because I want her answer and
I’m used to getting what I want.

  She exhales a deep breath but surrenders to my inquisition. “Terrified. And excited. But, yeah. Yeah, I’m scared.” We’re walking slower now, away from the offices. “But I know everything will work out fine.” Her smile’s a little wobbly. And then she surprises me. “Do you have kids?”

  My first instinct is to answer glibly. “Not that I know of.” But I trap the words before they fly out. Loathing creeps up my throat. It’s not impossible to think that I might have some mini me out there somewhere. Except the women I’ve been with would track me down. Demand support.

  And they’d deserve it.

  “I don’t think so,” I answer honestly. “I keep it wrapped up.” This is a weird conversation for us to be having.

  She laughs. “Good to know.” I like the sound of her laugh. She plays with a few strands of her long blond hair. “I get the feeling you don’t really want to be here.” Ah, she’s gonna get personal right back.

  It’s hard to admit that the people in your life think you’ve become unstable. “Being on the road. Screws with your balance, I guess.”

  “You said something about being obligated. So, your bosses… they’re worried about you, then?”

  Interesting question.

  “I s’pose.” Not something I like to think about.

  She’s led us to what looks like the green on a golf course. But no flags. No holes. She drops onto the ground and puts herself into a cross-legged sitting position, then pats a spot in front of her. “Lay down,” she orders.

  I decide to play. I remove my hat and get comfortable. The grass is soft. I close my eyes against the sun.

  “A lot of people don’t realize how important it is for their physical bodies to make direct contact with the earth.”

  I chuckle at this. Before I realize what she’s doing, she’s crawled around to my feet and is removing my boots. “I’m serious. Take your shirt off.” She’s got a hold of my socks now.

  What else is there to do? I reach behind me, grab my shirt by the shoulders, and pull it up and over my head.

  “Now lie down again. Bend your knees so your feet touch the ground.” I’ve been on hundreds of greens but never like this. The grass is amazingly soft. My eyes are closed but I feel her crawling around on the ground beside me again. My lips part when her fingers begin threading through my hair. “I haven’t done this for a while, but it’s the best feeling in the world.” I’m seduced by her voice as nimble fingers caress my scalp.

  This is good.

  Her touching me.

  “Did you realize you absorb energy, vitamins even, from the ground?” Her fingers swirl around my hair. Along my eyebrows, over my eyelids. She’s tracing my lips, massaging my jaw.

  I’ve had massages before. Tens of them. Hundreds. They’ve never made me feel like this before. I’m sinking into the grass. All the while she’s talking about the sun. The plants. Our connection with other living things. My own little pregnant hippie.

  The sun feels warm on my chest. A breeze blows through the aspen trees. Charlie’s hands smell sweet, clean.

  “Breathe deep.” One of her hands drifts to my abdomen. “Bring your air all the way down here.” Her hand can go lower if she wants. But I’m too relaxed to tell her. Not like me at all.

  I’m drifting off. I can’t fight this.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Charlie

  I keep massaging Colt even though I know he’s fallen asleep. Even though my back is sore. He’s utterly empty.

  Nothing blocks me from feeling it.

  I don’t go around talking about it. Some people would freak out. But that doesn’t mean I can ignore the fact that I’m an empath. Or that I’d ever want to.

  It’s not magic. It’s not witchcraft or anything. It’s more like a sixth sense. My grandma had it. My mom does. You just have feelings and they aren’t yours. They belong to the person you’re channeling.

  When he opened the door of his cabin, loneliness hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn’t feel it at our initial meeting. I’d been too busy trying to subdue my raging hormones.

  The loneliness made him anxious. If I hadn’t shown up right then, he would have left. Driven away, not caring about his contracts, his managers. He’s been moving for so long that he doesn’t know how to stop. To be.

  So, I opted to bring him here instead of the weight room.

  He’ll need the weight room, yes. But he needs this more.

  I watch his beautiful chest rise and fall. One tattoo decorates this magnificent man – that I can see. It wraps around his shoulder. Flames, dragons, a snake. I trace it with my fingertip. Even so, my eyes can’t keep from adoring the perfect V trail into his jeans. His abs are glorious.

  I used to have abs.

  A strong breeze stirs the tops of the trees nearby. When I inhale, I breathe in the scent of pine and sage and grass.

  This is one of my favorite places in the entire world. Right here.

  It’s special.

  This man. He needs something special.

  I pry my hands off his body but allow my gaze to drift along his torso, waist… hips. He’s even more beautiful sleeping.

  His thighs are thick, sinewy. I’m tempted to extend my massage downwards… but that’s creepy. Even for me. Even though I’m no longer officially giving massages, I can’t help thinking he’s never signed a release. I don’t have permission. Instead, I place my hands over his heart chakra. I allow the breeze to whisper through my hair as I focus on healing.

  I love this.

  Meditation.

  Peace flows through me.

  “Are you a witch?” His chest rumbles beneath my hands. “I feel like you’ve cast a spell on me.

  I don’t remove my hands right away. “Massage therapist.”

  He smiles sleepily. “Ah… So that explains how you read my mind?”

  Most people think I’m wacko when I talk about my gift. To me it’s the same as seeing, smelling, tasting… but to some… Yeah, he might as well think I’m a witch. “I’m very perceptive.”

  I resume massaging his neck and shoulders. We’ve been here over an hour. The sun’s setting, and the air’s getting cooler. “I miss this.” I’m almost thinking out loud. When he squints up at me, I explain. “They moved me to guest services when I first got pregnant. The oils.” The memory causes me to wrinkle my nose. “My stomach couldn’t handle the smells.” I’d thrown up every morning for three months.

  He closes his eyes again. “So, I shouldn’t expect this from all my VIP Concierges?” He drawls the words out somewhat mockingly.

  “Probably not.” I laugh.

  “Tell me something else about you, Miss Richards.”

  “You pretty much know the highlights.” As a pregnant woman, your past intimate indiscretions become fodder for public consumption. People speculate. They judge. Some fairly, others… not so much. “Otherwise. Hmm… Let me see… I grew up in Denver. I love the mountains. I’m a bit of an introvert. I hate crowds…”

  “I used to love them,” he mumbles in a lazy voice.

  I rub out a kink between his shoulders and his chest. I then work up the base of his neck and slowly remove my hands from his hair. “I’m going to leave you now.” I keep my voice low. He needs to be alone. I want him to feel safe. When I had my first chakra massage I burst into tears afterwards.

  I couldn’t leave him while he was sleeping. Too vulnerable. But he needs to come awake in private. Be alone with the earth.

  Except he won’t be really. Life is all around us.

  He peeks up at me, eyes half closed still. “Have dinner with me?”

  “Hush.” I touch his lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I had trouble sleeping last night. Even with the big pregnancy pillow I bought, it’s almost impossible to get comfortable. So, I’m kind of grumpy today.

  Maybe a little frustrated sexually too…

  But we won’t go there.

  I’m wearing jeans toda
y, a pair with the elastic top. Soooooo sexy. One of my Whiskey Creek T-shirts covers most of my belly. And my hair’s pulled up in a pony.

  Teri, a good friend, and also one of the managers here, stops by my desk. “I don’t know how you do it.” She scowls at me. Teri is in her late forties and rail thin. “I looked like a beached whale when I was pregnant. How far along are you again?”

  I pat Squirt. “Thirty-four weeks and two days.”

  “I can’t even tell you’re preggers from the back.” She laughs and hands me the day’s check-in report. “No problems with Mr. Forrester, then?” She waves a file to fan her face. “That man. I caught a glimpse of him this morning. Apparently, he’s a runner. Likes to run without his shirt.”

  I hesitate to tell her about the massage I gave him, but as my boss she deserves to know where I went off to yesterday afternoon. “I gave him a massage.” My face grows hot which is ridiculous. “He’s not here by choice.”

  Teri nodded thoughtfully. “I wondered.”

  “I just figured since he’s VIP and all…”

  “No. If that’s what he needed, I don’t have a problem with that.” But she looks torn.

  “What?” She’s not entirely happy.

  “Be careful, Charlie.” It takes a lot for her to sound this serious. “You read the file. This man literally charms the pants off women.”

  Yesterday I might have laughed at this. In fact, yesterday, I had. But today. After spending a few hours in his company… I pick up the report and fan myself. I can’t help thinking he’s a problem. A problem that messed with my sleep.

  But I’m at work. He’s a guest. “I’ll make him an itinerary. He’s a little…lost up here.” I don’t want to say any more than that but it’s my job to ensure guests keep busy, or not, whichever they need.

  I’m not sure what he needs yet.

  She slides me a suspicious glance. “I trust your judgment. Have you seen the invoice from Whitewater Outfitters?” She’s moved on to new business already. I locate the invoice for her, and she drifts back into her office.

  It’s a busy morning. A large party checking out requires most of my attention. When I close them out and finally glance up from my computer, I hear the doors whoosh open; I don’t need to look up. I feel him.