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M ILES

Hell, she’s cute in her black leggings and loose purple tank top. She’s wearing a white baseball hat with an embroidered heart and a stick figure of a boy and a girl holding hands on the front.

The name of the pediatrics office she works at is sewn into the side of the hat and her auburn ponytail swishes as she runs to the clearing at the top of the mountain.

“It’s beautiful up here.”

“It sure is,” I say as I take her in.

Her eyes are wide and bright as she looks over the tops of the trees and to the Atlantic. A smile stretches across lips I’ve fantasized about morning, noon, and night.

Wrong time. Wrong place.

I tear my gaze from her mouth and take in the view as well.

Mount Agamenticus is in York, Maine, a quick hour ride from Boston, and tall enough to offer breathtaking views from the top but not so grueling that I’ll be sore for tomorrow night’s game. Something Rowan was worried about on our drive north.

“Thank you for asking me to join you, Miles.” She squeezes my forearm. “I needed this. Fresh air. Exercise. And the view is stunning. I’d love to come back in the fall when the leaves are changing.”

“It’s a date.”

“I bet that’s what you say to all the girls,” she teases.

I’ve never been this awkward and unsure of myself around a woman before. Hell, I’ve never been awkward or unsure.

Rowan is different. She’s a friend first. But fuck, I’m ready to change our relationship status. If only I knew how she felt about me.

She’s sweet as fucking cherry pie around me, but that’s how she is with everyone. I guess it’s kinda the same with my flirting. Although, with Rowan I mean all the sexual words that come out of my mouth.

“Can’t say I’ve ever been on a hike with a woman before.” She has to see she’s different.

“Right.” She snorts. “You usually take your dates to clubs and back to your place. Let’s head down that trail. It looks like there’s another open area with a great view.”

I follow her as she jogs toward the trail, not making any attempt to take my eyes off her round ass. She’s giving me no signs that she’s remotely interested in me, which means I need to work even harder to show her the real me.

“It’s so pretty up here, Miles. I can’t believe we’re only an hour out from the city.”

I take out my cell phone and curl my arm around her waist, tugging her into my side. “Selfie time so we don’t forget the view.”

I hold my phone out in front of us, but since I’m so tall, it’s hard to capture Rowan and the view behind us.

“You’re too short.” I snap a few pictures since all I really wanted was a picture of her anyway.

“I’m five-six. That’s hardly short.”

“You’re still eleven inches shorter than me. Climb on my back so we’re the same height and I’ll be able to get the view in behind us.”

While it’s true, it’s also a stellar tactic to get Rowan’s body closer to mine.

“I’m not hopping on your back.” She laughs.

“Fine. We’ll do it this way.” I flip her upside down and over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

“Miles!” She pounds on my back. Between giggles, I take a few more pictures, this time zeroing in on her ass.

“The view is amazing.”

“My butt is in the way.”

“Exactly.”

The giggles and the thumping on my back stop. Too far? Possibly. I spot a boulder and walk over to it, setting her down on her feet on top of the rock.

“Better? Now you’re a few inches taller than me.” I hold out the phone again when a couple comes up to us.

“Would you like me to take your picture?” the woman asks.

“That would be great, thanks.” I hand her my phone and return next to Rowan, wrapping my arm around her and holding her close to my body.

If our closeness makes her uncomfortable, she doesn’t show it.

“You’re a gorgeous couple. To be young and in love again,” the woman says as she hands back my phone.

“Would you like me to take your picture?” I ask instead of correcting her about Rowan and me.

“Thank you.” She hands me her phone and I add my Miles sense of humor to make them laugh, keeping it PG, of course.

A few minutes later, we head back down the trail toward my vehicle.

“Would you rather always have wet socks or a pebble stuck in your shoe?” I ask as I shake my foot, trying to loosen the sand that’s creeped up by my toes.

“What?”

“Come on. Don’t tell me you’ve never played would you rather. It’s a Miles Buckingham favorite.”

“Is it now?” She laughs.

“You can learn a lot about a person with this kind of questioning.”

She glances over her shoulder and gives me a fucking gorgeous smile that is so genuine and real that makes my cock twitch. Granted, everything about Rowan makes my cock twitch.

“I guess I’d go for the pebble in my shoe.”

“Good choice. Wet socks are the worst.”

We dive deep into the nastiness of wet socks, then switch over to our favorite hiking trails.

“I’m serious about going for another hike if you’re still game.” More serious than she can possibly imagine.

“Isn’t your schedule kind of tight? I’m off on the weekends and that’s when you have your games. Maybe next spring or summer when you have more time.”

Fuck that.

“I have plenty of time.” I don’t. But if I devote the time I’m not at the field to Rowan, we can fit in some fun adventures. Other couples make it work.

Couples . We’re not one, something Rowan has reminded me of a few times today. I don’t even sense an inkling of interest on her end.

She doesn’t shy away from touching me or letting me touch her, but she’s a hands-on friend. Hugs, comfort. It’s the nurse in her. The caretaker.

But I want her hands on me for a different purpose.

“I understand your schedule is tight, Miles. I can ask Kendall to come—” She trips over a root and I grab on to her hip to keep her from falling.

The momentum of going downhill and her almost face-planting has us both tripping over our feet for a few steps, but I keep us upright. Granted, the only way to do that is to hold her closer to my chest.

We’re breathing rapidly when we stop, and the rise and fall of her breasts against my chest has me going from semi-hard to full fucking throttle.

“You okay?” I tip her head back and brush the hair out of her face.

We’ve hugged. We’ve been close before, but never like this. Never with her front plastered against mine. Never with her flawless face tipped up and our mouths only inches apart.

My gaze drops to her mouth and her tongue darts out, moistening her lips.

Fuck. Me. Now.

She did that on purpose. She had to have. My cock twitches in my shorts and her eyes widen.

Shit. I’m scaring the poor woman. I drop my arms and take a step back, shoving my hands in the front pockets of my shorts in the hopes of hiding how easily she gets my dick to react to her.

“Sorry about that.” She rights her tank top, not that it was wrong, and laughs. “I’m not usually that clumsy.”

“Tripping over a root is hardly clumsy.” I spot a couple long sticks a few feet off the trail and grab them, offering her the shorter one. “Walking sticks.”

I thump the longer one into the ground and toss my head to the left. “We’re almost to the bottom. Feel like grabbing a bite to eat before we head back to the city?” I ask, pretending like feeling her body so close to mine didn’t work me the hell up.

“Lunch?” she asks once we start our way down the mountain again.

“Yeah, you know, that meal between breakfast and your pre-dinner meal.”

“Exactly how many meals a day do you eat?”

“Five. Doesn’t everyone?”

“No.” She laughs. “I take it your fifth is your post-dinner meal?”

“No, silly.” I tap her walking stick with mine. “The post-dinner meal is called dessert. The fifth meal is what you eat before you go to bed.”

“No way. Ice cream is what you eat before you go to bed.”

“Yeah? What flavor?”

“I’m a mood eater so it depends.”

Fuck. Me. Now. Why does my cock interpret everything that comes out of her mouth as something delectably filthy?

“Tell me about these moods and the flavors they match with.”

“You first.”

“I’m not a mood eater.” But I’m always in the mood to eat you. Fuck. Down, boy. “You can never go wrong with mint chocolate chip.”

Rowan snorts. Literally snorts, then covers her mouth with her hand.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. But mint chocolate chip is definitely you.”

“Do explain.”

“It’s fun, light, yet has a flash of decadence.”

“So you’re saying I’m fun, light, and have a flash of decadence?”

“Am I wrong?”

I think how her words could be insulting, but finding no fault in them, I shrug. “Sure, but I wouldn’t call two hundred twenty pounds light.”

She elbows me in the ribs. “Good natured. You’re not broody or dark or melancholy.”

“But only a little decadent?”

“Yup.” She pops the p and continues trekking down the trail.

While I’m sure she means this as a compliment, there’s an underlying insult I’m not quite figuring out.

“Tell me about your ice cream pairings.”

“It’s not rocket science. Sherbert is great on a hot night. The Dairy Twirl makes the best lemon bar ice cream. So good. In the fall, I love pumpkin ice cream, but it has to have graham cracker crust mixed in. I eat a lot of sweets during the holidays, so sometimes I need something simple like vanilla. Bean over French, but both are amazing, especially in a root beer float. Strawberry in July, obviously.”

“You’re skipping a lot of months.”

“That’s because winters are long in New England. Chocolate is my ice cream of choice when there isn’t much to do.”

Her legs pick up speed as she races down the mountain. It doesn’t take me long to catch up with her, and I don’t let her off the hook.

“So when you’re bored you go for chocolate. Rocky Road? Peanut butter swirl? Chocolate chip? What’s your poison when you’re...bored?”

Her cheeks are flushed and I’m not sure if it’s from the hike or what’s going on inside her head. Either way, I’m not backing down. Not when I’m so close to cracking her.

“Like I said, I’m not picky. Chocolate anything. It, uh, makes me feel...”

“Decadent?”

Her cheeks flame a darker shade of pink, and I’m not mad about it. I push even more.

“Should I be insulted that you insinuated that I’m only a little bit decadent?”

“Insulted? No.” Rowan tosses her walking stick into the woods and stands next to the passenger side of my vehicle. “Your personality is too big to be insulted.”

“Ouch.” I cover my heart with my hand and her eyes grow wide.

“Oh my gosh, Miles. I didn’t mean that as an insult.” She wraps her fingers around my wrist and squeezes. “I only mean you’re always full of joy and positive energy. Chocolate is more like therapy or a sinful treat.”

“You don’t think I can be therapeutic or a sinful treat?”

“Your jokes are most definitely therapy.”

Ouch. Another jab. I’m sure she doesn’t mean it that way. Rowan is the sweetest person I know and would be mortified at herself if she thought she was insulting someone. I’ve never heard her say a negative thing about anyone.

I unlock the door and wait until she fastens her seatbelt before rounding the hood.

She doesn’t think I can be a sinful treat? Well, fuck. Challenge accepted.