Page 13

Grant

W hen Zoe slips out from behind the wheel of her rental in the Incline parking lot on Saturday morning, I give her a quick once-over as Kenna runs up to hug her about the waist.

I’ve barely seen her since the scene in my backyard—the one that’s been keeping me up most nights, kicking myself in the pants for not finishing that kiss.

Everything inside me knows it was smart not to open that particular door. Especially because I wouldn’t have been able to open it a crack and peek inside. I would have kicked it by the handle and sent the thing rattling off its hinges, never to close properly again.

I made the right decision. I know I did.

But one glimpse of her, and I regret every decision that led me to this moment where I have to stand back and pretend everything is cool between us.

So, of course, the first thing I say is, “What are you wearing?”

“What? You said we were going hiking.” She looks down at herself, and my gaze follows hers. She’s wearing a hot pink T-shirt that stops a couple inches shy of the high-waisted black leggings that sheathe her hips and thighs. There’s a dark gray sweatshirt tied about her waist, and she tugs on a matching baseball cap that shadows her face.

If she’s hoping to go incognito, she’s failing. Hard.

There’s not a gaze—male or female—on the mountain that won’t be looking in her direction. Sure, her makeup is toned down—all neutral bronze with dewy pink lips. But she’s the same kind of pretty in person as she is on a screen.

The kind that steals your breath and brings that moment in my backyard front and center.

I try to shake off the memory and point to her shoes. They’re white—nearly pristine—with almost no sole. “I said we were hiking the Incline.”

She shrugs the shoulder poking out of the wide neckline of her shirt. “And? I’m ready. Bring it on.”

“I don’t think you’re going to get very far in those.”

“What?” She lifts one foot and examines the sneaker. “I wear shoes like this all the time to Temescal Canyon.”

Kenna leans in toward the shoe in question too. “Besides, they’re cute.”

“Cute won’t get you to the top,” I grumble. But there’s not going to be any arguing with these two, so I let it go.

Kenna grabs Zoe’s hand and says, “Come on! Let’s go.” Then she whispers, “The sooner we get to the top, the sooner we get pancakes.”

“That just makes good sense.” Zoe hangs on to Kenna’s hand, following toward the trailhead. I’ve got to give the woman credit. She walks with purpose and without reservation, no cautious steps over the uneven terrain.

Kenna leans in, chattering about her audition the day before, the two looking like girlfriends starting an adventure.

But this isn’t the Shire, and they aren’t headed to Mordor. Zoe is just going to think they are going up Mount Doom.

When the girls reach the base of the mountain, Zoe pauses to look up the near-vertical trail. Warn wooden railroad ties cut a swath through the pine trees as far as the eye can see. Men and women pepper the stairs at various speeds. Of course, there are those running the thing—ridiculous even for this professional athlete. But most are slogging along at a glacial pace—the only way for the uninitiated to survive.

I can tell when Zoe’s back stiffens, and she glances over her shoulder, her eyes narrow and gaze sharp.

Either she’s having second thoughts or cursing my name.

My guess—probably both. And the thought makes me chuckle.

Despite the cool morning air and October breezes, the Incline will claim its victims. It always does. Within a few hundred yards, some poor shmucks will turn around and go home. Some will find a rock to sit on off to the side to catch their breath. Even more will bail at about the two-thirds mark, where the steps connect with the trail back to the parking lot.

But that’s not an option for us today. I made it clear to Kenna as we were leaving the house this morning that pancakes at Uncle Sam’s are for those who make it to the top. We don’t have to win the race. We just have to finish it.

As I pick up my pace to join them, I hear my name. “Red! Hey, Red!”

Glancing toward the teenager calling out to me, I offer a tight smile.It’s a fan—or a hater. He could be both depending on the week. At least we won our last two games.

The kid’s voice continues to grow, as he runs toward me. “It is you!“ Within seconds a small crowd has gathered around me, waving pens and Teeners hats and chattering a mile a minute.

“Sign this,” one kid says, shoving a hat into my face.

“Is this what you do on your bye weeks?”

“Are you here by yourself? Want to hike with us?”

Peering over their heads, I catch Zoe’s eye and tip my chin up the mountain. “Catch up?” she mouths. I nod, and even over the hubbub around me, I hear her taunt, “If you can.”

If I can?

Ha.

If I didn’t think it would draw attention to her—attention I’m certain she doesn’t want—I’d call her out on the spot. Challenge her to a race to the top.

Loser has to let the winner kiss them.

Chicken on a biscuit!

I’m not supposed to be thinking about that. Or her. Or us. Or . . . well, anything in that general vicinity.

I watch her sashay up the first couple steps before tearing my eyes back to my fans. I shake more hands than I can remember, thanking them for their support and signing a few shirts—including one of Ja’maar’s jerseys.

I’ve got to remember to tell him about that when we’re back at the facility on Monday.

After a few minutes, I say, “Hey, thanks, guys. I better get to my hike. Be safe out there today.”

A collective groan turns into a mumble of appreciation, and I duck away while they’re all in relatively good spirits. Sprinting up the first few steps, I pump my arms to get into a good rhythm, passing a few middle-aged ladies, who look up with shock in their eyes. “Morning,” I greet them with a smile.

I don’t usually engage with other hikers, but knowing Zoe is only a few yards ahead of me has me smiling at the others on the trail. As I near two guys ahead of me, I see one elbow the other. He shoots his friend a rude smile and raised eyebrows.

Bile rises in my throat. I know who’s in front of them.

With a growl, I push myself a little faster, skirting them so I can slip behind Zoe and Kenna three steps ahead.

The guys don’t really try to hide their grumbling, calling me some choice names under their breath.

Good. Let them look at my rear end for the next half a mile.

It doesn’t have its own social media accounts like Card’s backside, but that man’s a beast. He does squats like it’s his only job.

“Hey, ladies.” I speak quietly in case they don’t realize I’ve caught up to them.

“Uncle Grant,” Kenna chirps, maybe the happiest I’ve seen her—ever. “Zoe thinks the feedback I got on my audition is really good.”

“Oh, yeah?”

The bill of Zoe’s cap bobs quickly. “Yep.” It comes out as barely a wheeze, and I can’t hold back a chuckle.

“What’s wrong, Zo? Having a hard time?”

“There is. No. Air. Up. Here.” She gasps between each word, but it doesn’t seem to help. Even from my angle, I can tell her cheeks are bright pink, and a light sheen of sweat covers the back of her neck beneath the ponytail hanging through the back of her hat.

“Thought I’d have a hard time catching up, did you?”

She shoots me a scowl over her shoulder and mumbles under her breath. “Whose idea was it to start climbing this thing, in the first place? I hate them.”

Even Kenna laughs at that, her high-pitched chirp making me chuckle too. Zoe is nothing if not dramatic. And I kind of like it.

Liar.

All right, I like it a lot.

I thought things might be awkward between us after I stopped that kiss, but Zoe is treating me like always—like her favorite sparring partner.

And I don’t mind that either because she takes as well as she gives.

“Seriously, this is not enjoyable. You do this for—?”

Suddenly Zoe pitches forward with a scream, heading toward a hard fall on all fours. I grab her about the waist, hoisting her back against my chest, her feet dangling just a bit.

“I’m fine,” she calls out, responding to all the eyes now looking in her direction.

Pressing my lips close to her ear, I whisper, “Are you sure?”

Her whole body shivers against mine. And it’s not from the cold. I’m sure of that. Because all of me is trembling too. Maybe because of the adrenaline dump. More likely because I have her right where I want her.

“Zoe!” Kenna grabs her hand, and I reluctantly set her back on her feet.

“I’m all right,” she says. “My shoe just caught on something.” As if to show that it’s no longer trapped, she holds up her right foot and displays a shoe that is now in almost two separate pieces. The flimsy sole has ripped most of the way off the fabric and flaps with a soft clap.

“Everything okay?” It’s one of the guys that I passed earlier. He nudges his way around me, barely keeping his arm, which he would have lost if he’d touched Zoe or Kenna.

Zoe pulls her hat a little lower but shakes her head as she wiggles her foot in front of her. “Guess I wasn’t as prepared as I thought.”

“We can walk you down,” says the other guy. There’s a gleam in his eye that makes me clench my teeth. I don’t know if he recognizes her, or if he just enjoys leering at pretty ladies.

Either way, they would literally have to knock me out and lay me flat before I’d let them be alone with Zoe Peebles. Who is conveniently giving them a red-carpet smile.

Tone it down, Zo.

“Here, let me—” The first one holds out his hand, and a monster inside me tries to claw his way through my chest.

“I’ll take care of her,” I growl.

Kenna wrings the hem of her shirt in her hands. “We can go back down.”

And give up because of flimsy footwear? Nope.

“We’re going to make it to the top.” And then we’re going to get pancakes. Not that I’m going to announce that to the two bros still lingering too close and blocking more of the trail than they need to.

Wrapping a hand around Zoe’s elbow, I pull her a step toward me. “How about a piggyback ride?”

Her eyes flash with something like humor before realization sets in. “You can’t be serious. There’s no way you can carry me up the rest of this .“ She flings a hand in the general direction of the mountain before us, practically cursing the thing.

“You bet?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I can make it back to my car.”

The guys are practically drooling.

I make eye contact with the taller one. “We’ve got this. You can take off.”

“Really. I’ll be fine,” Zoe assures them with another flash of her straight white teeth.

They still don’t move.

I flex my lats and shoulders, stretching my plain gray T-shirt, and the monster inside comes out on a growl. “Go.”

They jump, stumbling up a few steps and looking over their shoulders a couple times before disappearing beyond a slower group of teenagers.

“Grant,” Zoe chastises me.

“Get on,” I grumble, turning my back to her. “I’m hungry, and we’re not getting food until we make it to the top and then all the way back down.”

Kenna presses her fingertips together in front of her smile. “Pancakes.”

With a wink, I say, “Indeed.”

Zoe doesn’t make a move to climb on, so I squat a little lower. I’m already a step below her, but she’s still more than a head shorter. And static as a statue.

“I can make it on my own.”

Stubborn woman.

I bite my tongue before saying it aloud. “Your shoe is a wreck, so get on. We’re wasting daylight.”

Again, she makes no move to actually take me up on my order. But we have managed to attract a bit of attention. Several other hikers have paused, taking a closer look at us. Maybe it’s my imagination, but I think I notice a flicker of recognition in their eyes. I just don’t know if it’s for Zoe or me. Or worse—the both of us together.

Leaning back, I drop my voice to just above a whisper. “People are staring. Cameras will come next.”

She gasps audibly right before her slender hands dig into my shoulders.

“Hop up.” She does, and I grab her legs behind the knees. With a wiggle, she settles into a more comfortable spot, then wraps her arms around my throat, locking a forearm against my Adam’s apple like it personally offended her.

Jerking away from the pressure, I nearly topple us over and into the waiting branches of a pine along the path, which only makes her tighten her hold.

“Tchr-tght,” I manage to get out.”Loo-sen.”

“Oh!” Her arms fly open, and now she’s the one trying to catapult us into the trees. Then she grabs back on to my shoulders with the tips of her fingers. “Sorry.”

“Just drape your arms like this.” I take turns moving her hands to a more comfortable position as she shifts her weight. “Better?”

She grunts. “Maybe if your shoulders weren’t a mile wide, I’d be able to hang on easier.”

If that is supposed to be an insult, it fails. Miserably. I flex my back and shoulders to show her that I didn’t waste my off-season.

If it’s possible, I can hear her smile as she settles deeper against me. Her curves are soft and warm, and the heat between us notches up, making me feel light-headed.

Before taking another step, I suck in a breath that I hope will clear my spinning head. I can’t afford to slip on the Incline. For a lot of reasons, not the least of which is next Sunday’s game.

And also, because some of those hikers in front of us have pulled out their phones and are spending more time capturing the view than watching their steps. Zoe doesn’t need to end up on her butt—and she sure doesn’t need it recorded for posterity or plastered across tabloids. One event a month is plenty, I’m sure.

I boost her up again, my arms hooked under her knees, and push out all thoughts of the shape of her legs squeezing my sides.

She is beautiful though.

I’d have to be dead not to notice.

And the hammering of my heart is only mostly due to the grade of the steps. It thunders in my ears so loudly that I almost miss her soft sigh as she melts into me, pressing her face into my neck. And jabs the back of my head with the bill of her hat.

“Jeez! Warn a guy before you attack next time.”

“That what you said at the game last week?”

“Their D-line is paid to come after me. You, on the other hand, should be grateful for the lift.”

She snorts a laugh that has no business being quite so attractive, and her arm disappears from across my shoulder as she flips her hat backward. When her arm comes back around, she’s got a hairband in her fingers that she slips around her other wrist.

I can picture it, but it takes every ounce of my self-control not to look over my shoulder to see if her heart-shaped face is as cute as I imagine with her chestnut-colored hair spilling out from under the cap.

She leans closer again, and I can smell her scent over the mingle of pine and earth. Maybe it’s her shampoo. Or her perfume. Or maybe it’s just her.

The source doesn’t matter. Only that it smells better than anything I’ve ever experienced before. It’s sweet but subtle. Whatever it is, it’s making my mouth water.

“All right. Next time, I’ll warn you.” Her lips are pressed against my ear, and her warm breath shoots a lightning bolt straight through me. My toe slams into the next step, and I stumble, lurching to correct myself so we don’t both hit the ground. She doesn’t weigh much—at least compared to the guys I spend most of my time with—but it’s still enough to throw off my center of balance.

Zoe sucks in a hard breath, and her legs squeeze tighter, like I’m a bull about to buck her off. But I’ve got her. I grip the underside of her thighs just hard enough to let her know I won’t drop her, and she immediately relaxes into me again.

Her trust makes me feel like I can fly.

“You okay, Uncle Grant?” Kenna asks from my left side.

Her cheeks are rosy, and sweat is dripping down her temples. But her eyes are bright. Determined. With that mop of blond hair piled on her head, she looks just like her mom did at that age.

“I’m good.” I follow her up to the next step. “You?”

She nods, but her eyebrows pinch together as her gaze darts back and forth between me and my passenger. “You sure? You’re kind of red in the face.”

Zoe remains silent, but I can feel her laughter reverberating through her whole body and into mine.

It’s best to move to a new topic, so I quickly nod to the water bottle hanging from the belt around my waist. “You thirsty? Need a break?”

Kenna looks at me like I’ve lost my ever-loving mind. “Need. Pan. Cakes.”

Right. A promise is a promise. And the sooner we make it to the top, the sooner I can fulfil it.