Page 15

Thatcher

“Rollerblading? Really?” I mutter under my breath, trying not to let my skepticism bubble over.

The sun is shining high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the park, but all I can think about is how this is another one of her quirky ideas.

Allie flashes me that infectious grin of hers, her hazel eyes twinkling with mischief.

My heart somersaults in my rib cage and I try to ignore the things her smile does to me.

I shouldn’t have stayed and had dinner with her the other night.

I knew I shouldn’t.

And yet, I was so thrown off by Allie’s sister being there photographing the date, I just…

I don’t know.

I said yes when I shouldn’t have.

And what’s worse, we had a great time.

Allie’s smart.

And funny.

And cultured.

And so fucking cute.

And not in a way that she’s trying to be.

She just is .

“Thatcher, trust me! It’s perfect,” she says, clipping her rollerblades in.

“I get to show off my athletic prowess and I can bring Biscuit to attract other dog lovers. And I can literally bump into potential dates, right?”

“The bumping into is exactly what I’m worried about,” I murmur, eyeing Biscuit, who is practically vibrating with excitement at the prospect of zooming around on wheels.

“You’re one of the most accident-prone people I’ve ever met,” I say, rising from the bench after strapping on my rollerblades.

“Plus…are we in 1998? Does anybody rollerblade anymore? Why couldn’t we ride bikes like a normal human?”

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Allie insists.

“Besides, Biscuit can’t run beside a bike. He could get hurt,” she says, already standing confidently in her own skates, Biscuit’s leash in hand.

She looks natural, like she’s done this a million times before.

I almost begin to trust her when her petite frame sways slightly.

I launch forward, catching her as she adjusts to the balance herself on wheels.

“Oops!” she giggles.

“It’s been a while. I’ve gotta get me sealegs back,” she says in a mock pirate voice.

“How long is ‘a while’?” I ask.

She shrugs.

“A couple of years.”

I close my eyes and exhale.

This woman.

This woman is going to be the death of me.

I grab my backpack, putting it on my shoulders.

“I’ll be right behind you with the first aid kit,” I say as I push off the ground, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline I usually reserve for missions, not midday leisure activities.

She rolls her eyes.

“We won’t need it!” Allie glides ahead effortlessly, laughing as Biscuit tugs her forward with enthusiasm.

I hang back, watching them while keeping a safe distance and adjust the earpiece within my ear.

She moves with an ease that surprises me; she’s good at this—really good.

Her wavy brown hair flies behind her, and her laughter echoes across the park.

It’s a sound that does something strange to my chest, something that feels suspiciously like warmth.

“Keep up, slowpoke!” she calls out into her own earpiece, her voice playful and teasing.

“Hey, I’m giving you your space,” I call out, picking up speed.

I need to stay close enough to jump in if Mr.

Right shows up, but far back enough to look unattached.

It’s a delicate balance, much like the one keeping me upright on these damn skates.

“Space, huh?” she says back, a sly smile stretching across her face.

“Well, watch this space then!”

She picks up even more speed, pushing herself with a fearlessness that makes my protective instincts kick in.

I scan the area, always on the lookout.

But maybe, just maybe, I’m also admiring how the sunlight dances in her hair and the way she throws her head back in delight.

Not that I’d ever admit it.

Not to myself.

And definitely not to her.

Twenty minutes later and she’s only gotten one look from a man on a bicycle.

She smiled and waved at him, but he returned her look with a grimace reserved for the smell of a swamp.

Not that it bothered Allie.

She kept right on grinning and sped up to pass him, Biscuit racing beside her happily.

It’s a puzzle, really.

Allie, with her pixie-like charm and whip-smart banter, should have eligible bachelors lined up like ducks at a shooting gallery.

I swerve to stop a runaway soccer ball before it rolls into the pond that the trail surrounds.

A kid comes running up and grabs the ball, waving at me before charging back to the soccer field.

What gives?

Why is it so hard to find someone who gets her?

Who appreciates the spark in her eyes when she talks about her latest book obsession or how she can turn a simple walk with Biscuit into an adventure?

“Hey there!” A voice cuts through my internal monologue, and I glance ahead to see a jogger quickening his pace beside Allie.

He’s got that easy, loping stride of a man who’s no stranger to the runner’s high.

“Hi!” Allie’s response is friendly, but she keeps her focus forward, expertly navigating a slight dip in the pathway.

“I haven’t seen anyone rollerblade in years.” He’s got a tone that’s trying for casual but lands somewhere near hopeful and it makes me bristle, like petting a cat in the wrong direction.

“Would you say it makes me stand out ?” she asks pointedly to, I’m certain, make some sort of a point to me.

“Absolutely,” the man says.

“Although, I bet you stand out just about anywhere you go.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes and mutter, “Charming.”

“Charming,” she repeats.

And damn if I didn’t forget she’s like my little parrot today.

The man’s grin grows wider and in turn, Allie’s smile widens too while she rolls along with a grace that makes my palms itch.

“And who’s this little guy?” he asks.

I note how Allie slows her pace down so that the man doesn’t have to sprint to keep up with her.

“This is Biscuit. I’m trying to convince him that chasing squirrels isn’t exactly a sport.”

“Ah, a fellow athlete, are you, Mr. Biscuit.” The guy laughs, and even from this distance, I can tell he’s laying it on thick.

“He might be a little guy, but he can keep up with the best of us,” she says.

“Biscuit might be the only fifteen-pound dog who loves hiking.”

“I thought you didn’t like runners?” I ask into her earpiece.

But of course, she doesn’t answer me.

Or rather, can’t answer me is more like it.

“You know, I love hiking, too,” he says.

“Maybe I’ll meet you on one of the trails sometime.”

“Maybe.” She smiles, and it’s got that mischievous glint I’ve become all too familiar with.

“You know, I usually steer clear of runners. It seems so monotonous…but maybe I’ll make an exception for a runner who also likes to hike.”

My protective streak flares up, mingling with something else—a twinge of.

.

.

jealousy?

No way.

I’m just doing my due diligence, ensuring she doesn’t end up with some gym rat who doesn’t know Nietzsche from nachos.

Even from way back here, I can see the way his chest puffs with confidence.

“I would happily trade in my running shoes for hiking boots…for you .”

I ease off on the skating, giving them space, even as my gut tells me to close the distance.

She deserves someone good, someone who’ll make her laugh and think and keep up with her relentless curiosity.

Someone who knows how deeply she cares about the smallest things, like the way she spends hours perusing a menu to order the perfect meal or how she frets over the well-being of a kid who literally tried to rob her.

“Maybe I’ll see you on a trail this Saturday morning at say…eight a.m.?” the guy continues, oblivious to the fact that I’m glaring at them from only twenty feet away.

“Not very observant, is he? I could be a potential threat and he doesn’t even notice me skating behind you all.”

Allie clears her throat and throws me a quick, scathing look over her shoulder.

“I could be talked into Saturday. There’s a cute little coffee shop at the base of Cades Peak.”

Fuck my life.

Now I’m going to have to go hiking with her this weekend?

I swallow my groan.

It’s not that I don’t like hiking.

I love hiking.

I just don’t want to follow this accident-prone girl up a mountain if I can help it.

But the sooner I find Allie’s soulmate, the sooner she’s out of my life and I can go back to how things were.

Even if her soulmate comes in the form of a jogging enthusiast with too much hair gel.

“I know the one,” he says.

“I’m Jason.”

“I’m Allie.”

“Well, Allie. How about I meet you there? I’ll be the one with two coffees—” His words get clipped off by a squirrel suddenly running across their path and Biscuit’s ears perk up like satellite dishes zeroing in on an alien frequency.

“Uh-oh,” I mutter under my breath, the hairs on the back of my neck standing at attention.

Before I can even process a plan, Biscuit lunges, yanking Allie into an impromptu game of urban sled-dog racing, chasing the squirrel.

Her arms flail as she hurtles forward, her usually graceful glide replaced by a panicked scramble to stay upright.

“Whoa, Biscuit—no!” she cries out, voice pitching with every bump and swerve.

But Biscuit is a terrier on a mission, tail a blurred propeller of determination.

“Dammit.” I dig my wheels into the pavement, pivoting sharply to give chase.

My heart thumps against my rib cage, adrenaline fueling each push.

Up ahead, Allie’s silhouette bobs between strollers and joggers, a streak of desperation against the park’s lazy afternoon backdrop.

“Come on,” I grunt, urging myself faster.

I’m gaining ground when I see Allie’s knees buckle.

She’s losing the tug-of-war with Biscuit—and gravity.

I stretch out my arm, calculating the intercept course.

Just a few more strides.

.

.

“Watch out!” someone shouts, but it’s too late for warnings.

With a grunt, I collide with Allie—more linebacker than knight in shining armor.

We’re a tangle of limbs and wheels, spinning out of control like a cartoon dust cloud.

And then comes the splash—a frigid shock of pond water that swallows us whole.

I emerge, sputtering and gasping, wiping algae from my eyes.

“Allie, you okay?”

It’s not very deep.

I can sit on the bottom of the pond and still have my head out of water.

“Biscuit!” she cries out, panicking and splashing around looking for him.

From the edge of the pond, there’s a yip where Biscuit sits, dry as ever, staring at us with his head cocked.

That little bastard.

Laughter bubbles up beside me as we sit there in the pond, soaked to the bone, grinning like two idiots.

“Well,” she chuckles, pushing her dripping hair from her face, “that was one way to cool off.”

“Sorry about the, uh, crash landing,” I say, wincing as I offer her a hand.

“Are you kidding?” She takes my hand, still laughing as we climb out of the pond.

“At least I didn’t knock over a champagne tower this time. Although I’m sorry to say, I don’t know that your earpieces are still in working order.”

“Right,” I reply with a smirk, feeling the weight of my soaked clothes and the warmth of her fingers wrapped around mine.

“Well…they’re replaceable.” The subtext ‘you’re not’ is left unsaid as we stand there, calf deep in the po nd staring into each other’s eyes.

“I panicked when I saw you being dragged by Biscuit. I thought…” I don’t know what I thought, actually.

I just knew I needed to act.

I couldn’t let Allie get hurt.

Again.

Allie blushes and catches her breath as I gently brush the wet hair from her face, my eyes drifting to her lips.

The playful chaos of the chase evaporates, leaving only the charged space between us.

She gazes up at me, her hazel eyes wide.

For a moment, we are frozen in time, the space between us buzzing with possibility.

My heartbeat thunders in my ears.

I begin to slowly lean in, drawn like a magnet towards her lips.

Before either of us can act, a voice calls out, “Oh my God! Are you okay?” Jason jogs up to the edge of the pond, brow furrowed in concern.

We jump apart, shocked, the spell broken.

I whip my head towards the sound.

Allie smooths her dripping hair self-consciously.

“Jason! Oh, uh… We’re fine, just a little soggy.” She lets out an awkward, high-pitched laugh.

“Here, let me help you out of there,” Jason says, offering his hand.

It twists my heart to watch Allie take it, allowing him to guide her out of the water as she steals a final glance at me from over her shoulder.

I climb out after her, trying to ease the evident tension in my clenched jaw.

“Well, crisis averted,” I say gruffly.

Jason smiles quickly at me, then brings his eyes back to Allie, trailing over her wet, clingy clothes appreciatively.

“Do you want to come back to my place to dry off properly? It’s only a few blocks away.”

“Oh…um. No, that’s okay. It’s pretty hot out today, I’ll dry fast?—”

I bristle, stepping between them protectively.

“I’ve got it covered,” I tell Jason.

“My office is close by, with towels and everything.” I keep my voice light, but my jaw clenches.

Jason raises an eyebrow, looking from me to Allie.

Understanding dawns on his face as he takes in our drenched clothing and lingering closeness.

“Aha. I see?—”

“No,” Allie says quickly.

“You don’t understand. This isn’t, um… He’s not…” She looks helplessly to me, but I don’t say a word.

I don’t like this guy.

I don’t like how he’s looking at her body in wet clothes.

And I’m definitely not fucking letting her go to his apartment right now when I don’t even know the man’s last name.

Jason gives a humorless chuckle.

“Look, it’s fine. You don’t owe me an explanation?—”

“Damn right she doesn’t.” They only met five fucking minutes ago.

“This is my cousin!” Allie blurts out.

“Um. B-Ben.”

Jason’s features relax.

“Your cousin .”

“Yep.” Allie smiles widely, and nods at me.

“My cousin Ben. Here rollerblading with me. But he’s not very good…as you can see by how he knocked us both into the pond.”

“I was saving you,” I grumble beside her.

Allie bends down and picks up Biscuit’s leash once more.

“Anyway. He really does have an office right down there.” She points in the completely wrong direction.

Jason looks mildly disappointed but recovers smoothly.

“No problem at all. I’m glad you’re okay. Maybe I could get your number and check in on you later?” He pulls out his phone hopefully.

“Sure, that would be great!” Allie says , her voice pitching a few octaves higher than natural.

She undoes the armband with her phone encased in plastic and gives a little sigh of relief, holding it up.

“Thank goodness for plastic coverings… ”

“And the fact that the pond is so shallow here.”

Her smile widens.

“Exactly.” They exchange numbers as I shift impatiently, eager to get her away from this pushy stranger.

Finally, Jason jogs off with a parting wave.

Allie sags in relief once he’s out of sight, some of the tension leaving her body.

Her petite frame shivers slightly, though she keeps a bright smile fixed on her face.

Whether from the chill of her soaked clothes or the lie or the adrenaline of being pulled like she was in the Iditarod, I’m not sure.

But I know I need to get her warm and dry, fast.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” I ask her again.

Allie shakes her head.

“I’m fine, really. But I would appreciate some dry clothes if you have them in your office.”

I give her arm a light, reassuring squeeze, before leading the way toward my office.

Thank God it’s only a couple blocks away from the park.

“Come on, cuz,” I tease.

She smiles, but shivers again despite the fact that it’s eighty degrees out today.

I wrap my arm securely around her and tell myself that it’s solely to help her out and not the animalistic urge I feel to keep her close.

And to my surprise, she leans into me readily, her arm coming around my back.

With a sigh, she leans in closer, resting her head on my shoulder as we walk in synchronized steps.

The warmth of her body grounds me in ways I haven’t felt since Jenna passed away.

The sunlight filters through the leaves above us, casting a dappled pattern on the ground as Biscuit dances around our feet.

We walk in silence, the only sound the gentle rustle of the trees in the breeze .

I know I should let her go, give her space.

This can’t happen…

she and I.

We are way too different and I have a mission to complete.

One that’s already too dangerous for me and Duke.

I can’t have another person potentially in the crossfire.

Not again.

But something in me rebels against the idea of letting her go.

Does she feel it too?

Is this pull between us as undeniable to her as it is to me?

Maybe the only reason I crave the connection we’re sharing in this fleeting moment is because it’s been too long.

I haven’t been with a woman in years.

And then, as if sensing my inner turmoil, she lifts her head from my shoulder and meets my gaze with a small, knowing smile that chokes in my throat.

That smile will fucking break me if I’m not careful.

Without a word, I unfurl my arm from her waist and separate, stepping back to a more comfortable distance.

But the memory of that shared moment lingers in the cavern of my chest; a silent promise of what could be if I dared to embrace the connection.

But I won’t.

No, I can’t.

Whoever said it was better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all had no idea what he was fucking talking about.