The Mile High Madness

by Anders, Annabelle

  Another day’s worth of stubble only accentuates his chiseled features.

  Sauntering over to my desk, he traps me in his gaze. Our eyes lock for all of ten seconds before he lowers himself into the same seat he had yesterday. “Hey.” He looks like he just took a shower. The hair sticking out from under his cap is wet and curling but he smells fresh and masculine. Manly.

  Freakishly intoxicating.

  “Hey.” I open my notebook. “I’m glad you came by. Still bored?”

  He’s drumming his fingers on the armrests. Although not as bad as yesterday, that tension, that unsettled feeling, lands on my shoulders.

  He shrugs. “I found the weight room.” His words draw my attention to his arms and chest. Lean, sinewy. I press my knees together. Don’t imagine him shirtless.

  I clear my throat. “Up for trying something new today?”

  His eyes narrow at me. “What’d ya have in mind?”

  I slide a printed schedule toward him and his eyebrows raise.

  “I’ve been thinking about you,” I say. And then I realize what that sounds like. “Um, and what activities you might like to try out.” A series of activities played out in a bedroom come to mind, and I decide to stop talking.

  A devilish grin appears, and he winks. “Now you’re talking.” But then he looks down at the paper I’ve given him.

  “Massage? From you?”

  I shake my head. “From Cora. She’s great.”

  “Not interested… Archery? Are you serious?”

  I lick my lips. “Have you ever tried archery?” He takes a pencil from the cup on my desk and crosses it out. Didn’t this man go to summer camp?

  “A Yoga class. Do you teach it?”

  I roll my eyes. “I used to teach it, but–”

  “Not since you got knocked up.” He shakes his head mournfully and hovers the pencil over it. “Unless I can have a private session?”

  I can’t help but wonder if he’s serious. I’m sure Teri would approve it, but…

  I rub the back of my neck. This is dangerous. Being alone with him. Except I keep forgetting. I’m fricking huge. What can possibly happen? “Maybe.” Perhaps I can work this to my advantage. “If you do two of the other activities on my list.”

  He reclines in his chair, crosses his arms and just stares at me. I force myself to hold his gaze even though it feels like he’s reading my soul.

  “Done.”

  I sit up straight. Wow. That was too easy. “Which ones?”

  “Doesn’t matter. You pick. When’s my private lesson?”

  I remember how perfect the sun felt yesterday. “Four p.m. Up on the green again.” I take the itinerary back from him. “Meanwhile…” I study my list, trying to get a feel for what he needs. Unfortunately, I’m blocked. All I can feel is sexual hunger, and I’m pretty certain that’s all me.

  “The cooking class.” I almost choose this one as a dare. But it will keep him busy and engage all of his senses. “And… golf.” His file says he loves golf. Those two will take up the rest of the morning and most of his afternoon. Our golf course only has nine holes so he should be back in time for our… yoga.

  “I want another one of those massage thingies,” he surprises me by saying. “From you.” He drops his hands onto his thighs like he’s gonna stand up. “And then dinner.”

  “Dinner?” I take a deep breath like this is a hardship. It could be. It probably will be, eventually. “At the restaurant?”

  He nods. And then wincing a little, “Where’s this damn cooking class?”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Colt

  After she disappeared yesterday, I didn’t get up from that grass for at least twenty minutes. My body had gone totally limp. I can’t remember the last time I’d been so relaxed – without drinking – without working myself into exhaustion.

  And not just my body. My fucking mind.

  I just lay there. Thinking of her and feeling… grateful. I wonder if the sensation was an aberration somehow. More about the atmosphere. The drive from Denver.

  The absence of people.

  Afterwards I simply wandered around outside for nearly an hour before returning to my cabin. Took a shower and fell asleep. Before ten. Cannot remember the last time I was asleep before ten.

  Only problem was, I woke up at three and all that peace was gone. Felt jumpy. Anxious. Couldn’t stop looking at my phone. Nearly called for my car but wanted to see her again.

  Needed to see her again. I’ll stay one more day.

  So, I find the weight room and then take a run. The altitude nearly kills me, but I keep going anyway. By the time I head up to the offices I’ve been up for seven hours.

  She looks even more beautiful today.

  She’s different – the calm in the center of my storm.

  I decide I’m not a pervert for hitting on this woman. Pregnant or not, she’s gorgeous. And she’s promised to have dinner with me.

  I’ll also get another massage. Her hands on me again.

  I’m simply required to do her little activities first.

  She walks me to the large commercial kitchen and then backs away, looking smug but sexy. I point at her meaningfully. “Four o’clock.” My heart lightens at the sound of her muffled laughter as she disappears down the hallway.

  My kitchen partner is a Denver socialite. Late thirties, overly made up, and full of self-importance. Tells me her name is Tiffany. I don’t have to ask her. She’s told me everything about herself within five minutes of our meeting. She wants me to perform for her charity. I tell her to contact my manager. She’s irritating. For the next two hours, I’m dodging her hands while trying to master the fine art of making sushi.

  I actually love the stuff and am psyched about my finished product. I’d drop some off at Charlie’s desk but I’ve heard it’s not good for pregnant women.

  So, I eat it myself. Not bad.

  Now golf.

  When people look at me now they see success. Talent. Money.

  They don’t see where I come from. They don’t see the trailer park where I grew up. The clothing I wore until it fell apart. The empty refrigerator. The nights my brother and I spent alone even though I was barely six and he wasn’t much older.

  I’m lucky. I know I work hard. I know I’m talented, but I’m not stupid enough to think I did this on my own.

  I’ve been God dammed fucking lucky.

  The first time I ever played golf, I was twenty-two. I’m not sure if Charlie knew it or not, but I loved it.

  And I’m good.

  Not to sound immodest, but seriously, I have a natural talent. If I wanted to quit performing, it wouldn’t take a whole lot for me to go pro.

  Yeah, the afternoon was no hardship.

  All in all, not a bad day. I take a quick shower and head for the green – I’ve learned this particular green is referred to as the yoga green.

  I’m excited to see her. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been excited about anything.

  When I get there, she’s waiting for me. I swear, I have this moment. She takes my breath away. Time stands still. She hasn’t seen me yet, so I stop and just look at her.

  She knows I’m here. I can tell the second she senses my presence. She sits up taller, settles her hands on her knees and turns her head.

  We have a connection. I doubt she’ll try to deny it after this.

  Each step I take has meaning. Each step brings me closer to her.

  When I get closer, my eyes trail over her. She’s wearing a tank top and yoga pants. The figure hugging clothes emphasize her bold display of femininity. Lush, ripe. Woman.

  She smiles up at me in that smug little way she had earlier. “You look like you’ve had a good day.”

  Impudent girl.

  Pleased with herself.

  She’s already barefoot. I sit beside her and take my shoes off. “You have a file on me,” I say. “Golf? Really?” I laugh and pull my shirt over my head. Immediately her eyes travel down my ch
est.

  I start to lie down and she stops me. “Nope. Sit and face me. We’re going to breathe first.”

  “I know how to breathe.” I want her hands on me, but her eyes brook no argument. I’m fine. I’ll pick my battles wisely and sit cross legged in front of her. She’s wedged her feet over her knees. I have to admit, I’m impressed.

  Her toenails are painted florescent green.

  She leads us both through a series of breathing exercises and stretches. I can hardly believe how flexible she is. Every time she changes positions, she’s grace personified. Baby bump and all.

  Another fifteen minutes and I’m feeling an odd combination of arousal and relaxation. She’s scrambling me. Challenging my beliefs about myself. I close my eyes and listen to her voice. When I open them I can only look at her.

  She moves, stretches and bends in uninhibited motions, mesmerizing me.

  “Now lie down.”

  But I shake my head. I know she can still lie on her back because she did it for some of our stretches. “You lie down. And tell me what to do.”

  I don’t believe she thinks I’m serious. I point to the grass. “You. Lie down.”

  She shrugs and lies on the ground in front of me. I place my hands in her hair. “Touch the top of my head.” She instructs me. “This is the Crown Chakra. It’s considered the connection to divine energy, my understanding and will. I clear it with meditation.” I massage her scalp with my fingertips. Listening to her tell me how she finds peace. I feel tender. But I feel something else, and it makes no sense at all. I feel love.

  Not romantic love. This love is tied in with gratitude. An appreciation for this beautiful person allowing me to touch her.

  My hands move to her neck and throat.

  “The Throat Chakra,” Her voice catches slightly. She must feel this too. This connection. Or maybe she’s just emotional about her beliefs. “It guides my truth, my deepest purpose.” She directs my hands to her brows, her heart, her round, hard, abdomen, and she tells me a little about each point.

  When she stops talking, I continue sliding my hands over her body.

  All the while I touch her in ways I’ve never touched a woman.

  With reverence. With respect. Honor.

  Images force their way into my mind. Women who’ve given me their bodies. Faceless, nameless women. I used them. I took their bodies with nothing – nothing more than lust. I touched them intimately – pounded my body into them – not thinking for a moment about who they were. Just bodies. Bodies for me to use.

  I think about Randy when I found him. Cold. Lifeless. Just a body. He’d been my drummer. My best friend. Practically my brother. He’d followed me into this world, and it killed him.

  Bile rises in my throat. Disgust floods my emotions.

  Flinching, I jerk my hands away. They defile her. Her baby.

  Eyes that reflect the color of the Colorado sky fly open, and she grasps hold of my wrists. “It’s okay.”

  I hear her words. I watch her lips. But it’s not okay. I go to pull my hands away from her but she’s surprisingly strong.

  And stubborn.

  I don’t want to hurt her in my urgency to get away.

  She releases one of my wrists and sits up. She has a little difficulty doing this. She’s on her knees, holding both my wrists again.

  “What you’re feeling. Allow it. Accept it. And then release it.” Her hands slide up and down my arms.

  Her words sound so ridiculous to me – feel good mumbo jumbo – and yet my eyes are burning.

  “Fuck.” I look away. I can’t look at her. I am surrounded by beauty – mountain peaks, greenery, blue sky, and of course, this woman. I clench my jaw and swallow around the huge lump in my throat.

  I feel like an idiot.

  I am an asshole.

  Her hands continue moving, warming me, touching so much more than my skin.

  “Don’t fight it,” she urges in a soft whisper. Her face is close, inches even. My body is screaming at me to kiss her, taste her. Don’t fight it, my body hears. Take what you want. I’m itching to learn her body sexually. But my mind… Holy Shit, my fucking heart won’t let me.

  I let out a long, drawn out breath.

  She drops her hands and sits on her heels. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice her shirt jump. She sees the direction of my gaze and grins.

  “Squirt’s active.”

  We haven’t really talked about the baby – the pregnancy. Neither of which I’ve ever had interest in. But both are another part of who she is. And I want to know her, but I don’t deserve to be a part of this. I need away. All of this is too much.

  “I…” I can’t even look at her right now. “I, uh, forgot about some calls I need to make.” I’m on my feet now, backing away from her. I know this is a jackass move, but all of this is strangling me. Burning me. Fucking with me.

  I head down the trail as though the hounds of hell are nipping at my heels.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Charlie

  After he walks away, I look down and realize my hands are shaking. People are often surprised when a massage makes them emotional. They don’t expect it. While running my hands over a person, I’ve had a number tear up, some sob outright. And I usually feel a release of pain from them, or a release of anger. Usually the anger is directed at themselves.

  I’ve never experienced what just happened. Him touching me.

  It scared me.

  As he ran his hands along my neck, my arms, my chest, a warmth permeated me. Protection washed over me, and I felt at peace with the universe.

  And in the flash of an instance it turned black, cold, ugly. Scared the crap out of me. I can only imagine what it did to him.

  I hug myself. The sun doesn’t feel so warm now. The breeze carries a chill. If this were just about me, I might go after him.

  But it’s not.

  I wonder if I’ll ever see him again. I wouldn’t be surprised if he checked out – left early. The vacuum of his absence saddens me already, but I think it’s for the best. Maybe not for him, but for me. I feel like crying as I walk back to my cabin.

  I haven’t been touched like that for months now. And I’m a touchy person. I’ve never had any problems with PDA. I hug my friends, my family. I don’t mind comforting strangers even. But since my pregnancy, I’ve spent the better part of my day behind a desk.

  Since Brent left, I’ve been alone.

  No one to touch at night.

  Nobody touching me.

  And over the past two days, I’ve gotten a taste of what I’ve been hungry for.

  When I close the door to my cabin behind me, I give in to my tears. Just for a while. If I try hard enough, maybe I can convince myself this is hormonal.

  The next morning, I don’t check the guest register. I don’t want to know if he’s left. I’ll learn soon enough.

  Despite the overcast weather, I’m determined to have a good day. I’ve embraced my morning routine even more fully than usual. My exercise. My meditation. I applied a little more makeup than usual and even curled the ends of my hair. My favorite sundress and my cowboy boots finish the effect. I feel good. I feel pretty. Heaven forbid, at almost eight months pregnant, I feel sexy.

  I’m determined to keep busy. We have a family reunion group. An oil executive has reserved nine cabins for the next five days. I flip through files and double check itineraries for all twenty-seven guests. This many guests in one party is a little unusual. The man has to be a millionaire several times over.

  Our cabins aren’t cheap.

  As I close the last file, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. He’s still here. I feel him walking through the front doors toward my desk. I gird myself against his charm when he sits down in front of me.

  It doesn’t work.

  “Hey.” His voice carries his normal greeting in an easy manner.

  He would be gone soon enough, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel relief when he shows up to harass me.


  I drink him in. That messy but perfect sun-kissed hair, his stormy gray eyes, the… rest of him.

  I’d imagined him gone. Lost to me forever. Which makes no sense, I barely know him. Strike that. I probably know him better than any of the people who’d called themselves his friends. The kind of loneliness emanating from him is hard for a person like me to shake.

  Still…

  Any thought I had of playing it cool, fly out the window when I see the pain behind his eyes. “Hey,” I respond. “I wasn’t sure you were still here.”

  He’s not as cocky today. I’m as attracted to him as ever. Maybe more so.

  “I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

  His gravelly voice sends a shiver through me.

  “So, are you?” I need to know. “Leaving?” I can’t get a read on him this morning. Sometimes when I’m overwhelmed by my own emotions it’s hard to feel somebody else’s.

  He glances around. A few employees and guests are milling around the lobby. “I need to talk to you.” He’s not asking. He’s telling me. He may be feeling a little insecure, but he’s still Colt Forrester.

  “I’m working.” I sigh. He’s a guest, but this is personal. I know it. I felt it yesterday. A special connection like I’ve never known before. I’m not sure I can deal with this and then happily go back to work.

  “Tonight?” he presses.

  I don’t think this is easy for him, but he walked away from me last night. He blew me off. “Are you gonna bail on me again?” I shouldn’t. But I can’t fight this.

  I can’t fight him. I’m not even sure if I want to.

  A sheepish expression crosses his million-dollar face. “No.” He doesn’t give an explanation. He doesn’t apologize. “But I want to take you somewhere in town. I want to see you away from work.”

  I can’t help myself.

  “Okay.” My answer comes out low and throaty. I cough into my hand. “I’ll be ready at six. I’ll meet you out front.”

  He nods. I expect him to stand up, walk away, but he just sits there. “What?”