Page 21

21

ZOEY

Today, I officially summited a mountain. For the first time. How have I lived my entire life in Colorado and never done so before?

Probably because I spend most of my time bent over a computer rather than planning adventures.

“Watch your step. You might not think it, but going up is easier than coming down,” Warner calls over his shoulder, navigating the rocky trail as easily as if he were strolling down a sidewalk on Main Street.

I keep my eyes on the ground, avoiding any obvious loose rocks. It’s not long before the heavy steps start up an ache in the soles of my feet, and despite Grandma Minnie’s boots being my size, they still rub blisters on my soles. The Band-Aids I put on a little while ago only help so much.

Still, I smile.

By the time we reach the trailhead, the sun is just sinking below the trees. The sweat on my skin makes me shiver, and I hurry to unlock my truck.

“You cold? I brought this.” Warner sets his backpack on the bed of the truck and rummages in it until he pulls out a large black sweatshirt. It matches his outfit for the day—black baseball hat, black T-shirt, black athletic shorts, black socks. The only bits of him not noir are his brown hiking boots.

I wonder if the gothic color palette is his attempt to maintain his biker persona, even as he dresses for hiking.

What would it take to get him in a pink shirt?

He’d still probably look badass.

The sweatshirt is large on me, and I enjoy the soft warmth of it while ignoring the fact that I’m stinking it up with my sweaty body.

A shower is going to feel so good.

“Thank you.”

I grin up at Warner, and he leans over to press a kiss at the corner of my jaw, his hot breath against my ear making me shiver for an entirely different reason. He’s even kind enough to not wrinkle his nose at what I’m sure is a cloud of reek hovering around me.

Once we’re on the road, me behind the wheel, Warner hands me a granola bar after hearing the grumbling complaint from my stomach.

“You had fun, right?” he asks between bites of his own snack.

I nod. “Are there more hikes like that around here?”

Around is a relative term, seeing as how we drove a good hour to reach the trailhead. But the views were worth it. Every time we broke through the trees, we could gaze for miles at the gorgeous, jagged tops of the Rocky Mountains. Living in Colorado my whole life, I had taken for granted the beautiful views from my apartment and car window. I never considered how much better they’d be if I got off my butt and climbed a little higher.

Warner chuckles, reaching over to give my knee an affectionate squeeze. “Plenty. We can climb as many mountains as you want. Especially if I get to hike behind you.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I love the view.” He draws his hand further up my thigh before giving another squeeze.

I snort and bat his hand away. “I’m driving! You’re going to make us run off the road.”

He leans back against his door, laughing.

Warner is tearing into his third granola bar when things go wrong.

The car sputters and shakes and stalls out. The engine goes quiet. Luckily, the brakes don’t fail. I slow us down, coasting to the side of the road until I can bring us to a full stop.

“Did you run out of gas?” he asks, leaning over to study the dashboard.

“No! I still have half a tank.”

I reach past the steering wheel to tap the display. Only the second I make contact, the gas needle quivers and drops to land on the E.

“Fuck.” My forehead hits the steering wheel. “This truck keeps finding new ways to screw me over.”

“It’s okay, Zoey.” A warm, comforting hand cradles the back of my neck. “We’re maybe forty-five minutes from town. I’ll just call …”

His trailing off has me turning my head, and I catch Warner frowning at his phone.

“You don’t have any service here, do you?”

His grimace is all the response I need.

I reach for my own phone, and my half hope is quickly dashed. No bars for me either.

“Okay. New plan,” Warner says. “You chill out here, and I’ll jog down the road till I get service or find a gas station. We passed at least one on our way out.”

“See, I like that plan, except for the part where I’m required to sit in a truck alone on the side of the road with no cell service for who knows how long. Plus, look at you.” I gesture at his body.

Warner glances down at himself, brow wrinkling in confusion.

I reach over to pluck at his dark shirt. “Walking on the side of the road, dressed like this, you’re practically begging to get hit by a car. Meanwhile, I”—my hands wave at the colorful leggings I chose to wear on our hike—“could easily act as a traffic cone. We’ll both go.”

He sighs, but his lips curl into a reluctant smile. “Fine. We’ll both go.”

We’re maybe five minutes into the walk when I remember why I was so happy to get back to the truck. My feet protest each step, demanding I elevate and ice them rather than continue using them to move myself forward. And then my muscles remind me that I spent half the day climbing a motherfucking mountain.

I know I’m slowing us down, but I try really hard to not wince every time my boot hits the asphalt.

“Zoey?”

“Mmhmm?”

“How ya doin’?”

“Great. Peachy. Top-notch.”

“Liar.” Warner stops me with a hand on my shoulder. “Your feet are killing you, aren’t they?”

I try not to groan or sink to the ground. “They might be staging a slight protest.”

“Here. Climb on my back.” He crouches down, offering me a tempting ride. But I wave him away.

“No, no. I’m fine. See?” Picking my foot up high, I start a dramatic march. But the second my boot sole hits the ground, a variety of pains shoots through my foot, and I gasp at the shock.

“Yeah. Totally fine,” Warner deadpans. “But maybe you could humor me?”

I’m tempted. I can feel myself giving in. But before latching myself to him, I announce my insecurity. “I smell.”

A full day of hiking means I sweat through my clothes. And now, that sweat has dried into a crusty layer on the fabric and my skin. The only barrier between him and the stench is his sweatshirt, which I’m already mortified about dirtying up.

Warner straightens, steps into me, and ducks his head to bury his nose against my neck. His arms wrap around my waist, foiling any chance of escape. I’m forced to stand still as he breathes in my stink.

Then, shocking the hell out of me, I feel his tongue flick against my skin.

I groan, clutching at his shoulders, briefly forgetting all the different ways my body hurts. All I can concentrate on is the ache between my legs.

How long until I can convince him to soothe that?

“I like the way you smell,” he whispers, hot lips brushing against my uneven pulse.

“Oh.” It’s all I can manage, and when he lets me go to offer his back again, I don’t hesitate to climb on.

A few minutes pass in silence as Warner carries me down the dark road. His back is so warm; I melt against him. Copying his action, I find myself burrowing my nose into his neck to breathe in his smell. There’s the salty tang of sweat, but that only seems to enhance his natural, delicious, manly scent.

He walks at a steady clip I never would have been able to maintain.

“How are you not tired?” I mutter.

A chuckle rumbles through his back and makes my nipples tighten. I wonder if he can feel them pressing into his skin.

“My job is manual labor. I’m used to going all day.”

“That’s some impressive stamina.” I twirl one of his curls around my finger, enjoying another vibration of his deeper laughter.

“You have no idea.” The heat in his voice makes me want to clench my thighs together. Only my legs are currently wrapped around Warner’s trim waist, and all my muscles are slowly transitioning into jelly.

“Maybe I want to find out,” I tease him, pressing a light kiss against his neck.

“In the middle of the woods? I never—” He stops mid-sentence and mid-stride, his whole body going tense.

The rapid shift takes away my happy, melty feeling. “What’s wrong?”

Warner doesn’t answer at first, turning his head slowly from side to side, as if searching for something. Then, he starts walking again. “Keep talking.” His voice comes out gruff and only makes me more anxious.

“What should I talk about?” Was it my flirting that upset him? Does he want me to talk about something less suggestive?

“Anything. Just keep talking.”

“Okay.” I rack my brain for any topic, feeling put on the spot. So, I blurt out my first thought. “I want to make you something.”

“What do you want to make me?” he asks.

“That’s the problem. I want to make you something, but I don’t know what. I make a lot of things, but I can’t figure out what the right thing for is you . You’re this sexy biker dude, so it’s not like you’re looking for me to crochet you something.”

“You could crochet me something.” Even though he’s still scanning the dark woods surrounding us, I hear a smile in his voice.

“Really? You’d wear … a scarf?”

“Sure, I would.”

I grin, happiness glowing in my chest. He’d wear a scarf I made him .

“All right then. Do you have a preferred color, or do you trust me to pick for you?”

Warner doesn’t answer. Instead, he stops, loosening his grip on my legs so I slide down his back to stand again. I’m proud that I only wobble a little bit, even as my feet pound with pain.

“Are you okay? Did you pull something in your back?” Despite his claims, I can’t help thinking his rapid change in demeanor came on because of me.

“Do you have your bear spray?” Warner asks.

“Y-yes.” I slide off my backpack, digging around until I find the bottle. “Is there a bear?”

Warner shakes his head. “Not a bear. Mountain lion. Female. Three cubs nearby.”

Any other time, I might ask Warner how he picked up all those details. But my mind gets distracted when he tosses his baseball hat to the side and strips off his shirt.

“Do mountain lions not attack naked people? That can’t be right.” But I have to admit, I only read up on bear safety.

Warner doesn’t address his choice to disrobe, even when he toes off his boots and shucks off his shorts. The guy stands in only his boxer briefs, and I’m not even able to admire the view because we’re being stalked by a deadly animal.

“I thought she might leave us alone, but with her cubs nearby …” Finally, he looks at me, his expression more serious than I’ve ever seen it. “When I say go, you need to run as fast as you can back to the truck.”

Something about his phrasing throws me off. “You mean, we’ll be running to the truck.”

Another brief headshake. “Mountain lions are hardwired to give chase.”

“You want to use me as bait?” I squeak.

“No. I’m going to distract it while you get away.”

He steps away from me, as if giving me room to sprint. Even with my aching feet, I know I can still run, especially if my life depends on it.

But not if it means leaving Warner behind to deal with a wild animal on his own.

“I’m not doing that.”

“Zoey”—his voice is so tense that I can almost imagine cracks running through it—“I know you’re scared, but I promise I won’t let it get to you.”

“I am scared. But I’m not leaving you. Two against one is better odds.” I flick off the safety on the bear spray, trying my best to make out any moving shapes in the darkness.

“I can take care of myself,” he growls.

Now, I’m the one shaking my head. “I don’t believe you.”

“Zoey, I need you to go. Now.” There’s an edge of desperation to his command.

Since I can’t find the animal in the shadows, I turn my attention and my glare to Warner. “I won’t leave you.”

Agitation radiates off him. As he steps toward me, I watch his amber eyes flit between my face and the surrounding woods. In the fading twilight, his irises look black.

When Warner grips my upper arms, I half expect him to give me a shove toward the truck. Instead, he backs me up against a thick tree trunk.

“They attack from behind. Stay here. Keep your spray out. And take this.” Faster than I can blink, Warner crouches by his shorts to pull an item from his pocket and is back at my side. He presses a large pocketknife into my hand. When I flip the blade open, I find it’s longer than any of my fingers and looks wickedly sharp.

Then, he steps away, backing into the road.

“What are you doing?” I ask. “Is this some weird making-yourself-bait thing?”

Warner drags his desperate gaze over me. “Don’t be scared, Zoey. Please, trust me. You don’t need to be scared.”

“It’s a mountain lion! I can’t help it!”

But Warner isn’t looking at me anymore. Instead, he stares upward, where the half-full moon peeks through the canopy of the trees.

Before I can ask another question, something in the night shifts. At first, I’m sure it’s a breeze. Until I realize the darkness itself is moving, like the night has gained corporeal form.

The mass sticks to Warner.

He lets out a ragged breath. I hear a series of snaps, then my ears pop.

I blink. Once. Twice. Then rapidly, as if that’ll fix whatever has gone wrong with my eyesight.

Because there is definitely something wrong.

Warner is gone, and in his place stands a large, fearsome gray wolf.