Page 13

Chapter twelve

Chris

I t’s shortly after four when I head back to Anna’s building to pick her up.

“Hey, it’s me,” I announce to the condo intercom.

“Hi! I’ll let you in.” She sounds a bit out of breath.

The door buzzes and I take the stairs two at a time up to her suite.

“It’s open!” she hollers when I knock.

She wasn’t kidding when she described her studio apartment. I reach up, easily skimming my fingers over the bulkhead that runs along a white wall by the tiny kitchen. There’s a bathroom on my right and the rest of Anna’s space is basically a bedroom. Recessed overhead lighting makes the space bright and at one end of the tiny quartz counter is an explosion of colourful art supplies.

“Hi!” She appears from behind a closet door, blowing hair out of her face.

She’s wearing a very short black mini skirt and an oversized t-shirt that reads, ‘wake up and smell the hairspray’.

“You look...unready.” I gesture to her mismatched outfit.

She throws herself back dramatically, landing on a low-lying bed littered with clothes. “I don’t know what to wear on a hike.”

My eyes wander up her bare thighs, stopping at the shadows beneath the skirt that’s become even shorter during her theatrics.

I swallow. “Um, well, I can tell you, not that skirt.”

Cause I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you.

She sits up abruptly and scoffs, “ Obviously , Chris.”

Ah, there’s the tone of disdain I’m used to receiving.

I walk to her bed, which takes me all of two steps, and pull at the leg of a pair of pants that are partially beneath her. “What about these?”

“Too small.”

“Okay. These?” I find another article of clothing and toss them at her.

“Those are pyjamas.”

I flop onto the bed next to her, surprised at how comfortable it is considering it appears to fold against the wall when not in use. We’re both on our backs, shoulder to shoulder.

“Not to rush you. But I’m leaving in five minutes, and whatever you’re wearing at that time is what I will carry you out of this condo in.”

She turns her head, our faces centimetres apart. I can smell her hair which looks way too pretty for hiking.

“We could stay in. Watch a movie.” She points to a wall mounted television.

That sounds...amazing. And like a surefire way to go from one to ten in the matter of an hour. Not setting myself up for that. Isaac’s comment about ‘screwing around’ pops into my mind.

I haul myself off the soft mattress, hoping the change in position will quell the temptation to stay home like she suggested. It doesn’t. I tap the face of my Garmin watch. “Three minutes, Annie.”

“Chris!” Panic fills her eyes.

“Come on, you have to have something. Like, what would you wear to work out?”

“My workouts consist of standing all day at the salon and wielding a blow dryer for hours on end.” She flexes an arm. “See? I’m jacked. ”

I laugh, but her arm does look pretty strong. I tuck a wavy strand of her thick hair behind her ear. Her eyelids flutter for a moment but she takes a deep breath. It’ll be way too easy to get sucked into a kiss. Or more. The shorts I’m wearing will do fuck all to hide a boner, so I turn and explore her space.

“I’ll be over here in your, uh, dining room?”

“It’s easier if you don’t try to break it up. It’s just…the studio.” She gestures to the space.

“Cool. Well, I’m going to sit here on this barstool in the studio and wait for you to do whatever it is girls do when getting ready for hikes.”

“I don’t know either,” she mutters.

Clothing rustles and frustrated sighs fill the air, but I stay in my spot, looking over her pile of art supplies. There’s a rack holding small bottles of paint and a box with what looks like fancy pens. Smooth, flat rocks litter the surface of a mat she’s obviously put out to protect her countertop from the paint.

“Were you painting before I got here?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry for the mess.” Her voice is muffled like her head is inside her closet or maybe a shirt. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying desperately not to picture her with her boobs out. “I was trying to finish up that set before I went down to work this morning. ”

I lean over to see them better. There’s a whole group of them, each rock with a different type of flower and the name written neatly below. To get that level of detail she must have an incredibly steady hand.

“These are really impressive, Anna.”

The urge to look behind me is strong, not to see her body, but to see her eyes when I talk to her about something she obviously enjoys.

“Thank you! They’re for Ashlyn for Christmas. I like the way they’re turning out. Going to glaze them tomorrow.”

I’m generous with my timing, but after ten minutes I know we’re running out of daylight. When she announces she’s ready, I slide off the stool and lead her out. I didn’t have to take her over my shoulder after all. Too bad.

***

“This is…dense,” she says, brushing aside a branch that’s growing across the trail and narrowly avoiding it smacking her in the face.

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re not very outdoorsy?” I ask, hoping that didn’t come across as jerky as it sounded in my head .

“Oh, you mean the wardrobe meltdown and the forty-two questions I asked you on the drive here weren’t dead giveaways? Nope, it’s usually just me and my pet rocks.”

“Yikes.” I grimace and she laughs.

“It’s not much further.” I slow at a rocky section of the trail, helping her up.

“I do like to go for long walks on the beach and see if I can find good painting rocks.”

On a beach we could walk side by side instead of dodging tree branches.

“We should do that sometime.”

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, nodding. “Yeah? Okay. Thanks for letting me set the pace.”

“Don’t overestimate me, I’m just back here to look at your ass,” I joke.

Exaggerating the sway of her hips for a few paces like the trail is her very own catwalk, she laughs, the pretty sound making me wonder what else I can do or say to make her laugh some more.

Arbutus trees grow in their winding way, curling strips of rust-coloured bark flaking and falling onto the trail. Ravens quark, dried leaves crunch beneath our soles, and beams of light filter through the canopy. This hike is taking longer with Anna along, but I don’t mind. In fact, I realize I haven’t even set my watch to track the hike and log my time. When was the last time I did that? I’ve always looked at my outdoor adventures as solitary pursuits focused on beating my personal time, but having someone to chat with is nice. A few minutes later the trees thin and the sky brightens.

“Whoa,” she breathes, turning slowly in a full circle to take in the view when we finally reach the summit of our hike. Wide bands of colour paint the soft clouds hanging in the air. The ocean blends with the sky, stretching out beyond us.

“Worth it?”

“Definitely. Thank you for bringing me up here. I’ll admit it was hard to get my butt in gear at the end of a workday.”

“I know. But I always feel better after I do a hike or a ride or something right after work. If I go home first it’s not gonna happen. Once my ass meets the recliner, I’m toast.”

“That sounds glorious.”

“The recliner or the toast?”

“Ugh, both,” she groans.

“Are you hungry?”

“Starved. I haven’t eaten anything since lunch.”

I had time to kill after showing up at the salon this afternoon. Hoping they aren’t too squished from being packed up the trail, I pull the white bakery box from my bag.

Her eyes light up as she examines the box. “Is that from West Coast Confections?”

Like a very uncoordinated Vanna White, I hold the box in one hand and flourish my other around the box before opening the lid.

“It is…could I interest you in a cinnamon roll?”

She licks her lips, snatching one and wasting zero time taking an impressive bite. She lets out a satisfied moan.

I’m ready to slather myself in that icing.

We settle down on the rocks, not trying to talk while we chew the sticky dough.

“God, these are extra cinnamon-y.”

I laugh. “That’s not a word.”

She takes her last bite. “Is now.”

Anna scoots closer until her heat sinks through my t-shirt. It’s not close enough for me, though, so I lift her easily into my lap. I harden instantly at the weight and warmth of her ass against my crotch.

There’s no question whether she notices because she presses against me more firmly and sighs my name, “Chris.”

I grasp her hips, not able to resist her any longer. Shamelessly, I circle my pelvis, giving her a better idea of what lays, or stands, in my shorts. Her breathing accelerates like we’re back on the trail. Burying my lips against the crook of her neck, I run my tongue over the salty skin that covers her fluttering pulse. She smells like vanilla and sweet cinnamon icing. When she twists around so that she’s straddling my lap I squeeze my eyes shut. She’s killing me. She’ll have to head down by herself and leave my body behind.

“Anna…” I warn her when she grinds her hot centre on my hardened dick.

With immense self-restraint, I move her further back in my lap, placing soft kisses on her cheeks and around her lips. The frustrated whimper that escapes her as we separate makes me twitch in my shorts.

“We need to head down. We’re losing all our light.”

She clears her throat like she just realized how lost in the moment we were. Brushing some dirt off her knees as she stands, she offers me a hand and I take it, allowing her to help me up.

It’s nearly dark by the time the parking lots comes into view. Thankfully, I found an extra light, because Anna’s smooth soled shoes were even worse on the way down.

“It’s getting cold.” She rubs her bare forearms.

We’re only days into fall but the leaves have already taken their cue and the temperature followed suit .

“Good thing I’ve already got the hardtop on. You should feel it on a cold night with it off.”

I let her in then rummage around in the back, producing a slightly itchy wool blanket that I tuck over her lap once she’s settled.

“Thanks.” She smiles sweetly at the gesture.

I shake my head as I stow my pack. I’ve never tucked a blanket around a woman’s thighs, and I’ve certainly never pulled one off my lap. Something tells me she’s worth the wait.