Page 6 of Worthy (Adrenalin #1)

Chapter five

Maddox

G etting out of the house last night was refreshing, and I had a good time meeting new people and talking about costumes for this bike race that’s apparently a huge deal. Plus, it was nice to see Cade in a different setting, one where the air between us didn’t feel so charged . I’m not sure what’s changed and while I’m hoping it’s just an off day, something about it makes me feel like I’ve done something. Something beyond the scope of accusing him of being a dick and blocking in my car.

That’s what I’m trying to convince myself of anyway, since I don’t want to admit the alternative..

I missed the flirty atmosphere between us.

That’s a dangerous statement, but a true one. It would seem I actually like, or at the very least am amused by, his playful banter, and that side of Cade was entirely absent at the concert. He didn’t flirt. Not once. Not even a double entendre. Nor were there any of his godawful attempts at goading me by calling me Solo .

Instead, he was polite, reserved, and nothing but a pure gentleman. And I don’t know what to make of that, because it’s so unlike the guy who plowed into me when we first met. I miss that guy. The one so keen on plowing into anything with legs…

I want him to look at my legs.

Maybe I’m not being fair. I barely know him, so I’m not sure I’m in a position to judge if he’s not acting like himself. But ever since he brought the breakfast tray back, he’s seemed distant, not at all like the playboy I know he is.

Oh damn! That’s what it is! I made breakfast, which he took as a signal that I want something with him. He did say no one had cooked for him before, so he must be reading into it. I know he’s not the relationship type, and he probably assumes I am, so he must be worried I want more than he can give. Christ, that’s embarrassing. And so far from reality it’s laughable.

Yes, I find him attractive, and yes, I do kind of enjoy when he flirts because it’s a nice change from the serious, pointed conversations I’m used to having with my family and my professors. But that doesn’t mean I want to claim him as mine. It just means I find him entertaining. And maybe I like looking at him, because he’s easily the most attractive man I’ve ever seen.

Okay that’s a lie.

The man is hot. Scorching even. He’s all hard angles and planes, but his skin looks smooth and his hair soft, and for as long as I can remember the combination of masculinity with a hint of femininity has been my weakness. So yes, I appreciate the view, but that doesn’t mean I want an up close and personal look.

I just want things to go back to normal, or my impression of it, where he’s playful and fun, and gives me a mental break by making me smile or laugh, or even internally cringe at his relentless flirting. Only he hasn’t been here in two days…

The quiet I like. It’s good for my work. It’s the silence I’m starting to resent. Time to get out of the house.

I make the quick drive to the trailhead for Jasper Falls. It’s another moderate hike, since I’m still acclimating to the altitude, but I’m interested in it because of the water. It’s one of the alternative energy sources I've been exploring, so any hike leading to water is time well spent in my book.

The trail itself is mild, because the trailhead sits at a higher elevation than the town, so there isn’t a steep grade to reach the falls. But it is rocky and uneven, which forces me to look down where I’m stepping instead of at the trees lining the path.

After about forty-five minutes, the trail spits me out at the upper rim of a secluded waterfall. By the angle of the overlook, the water appears to be coming straight out of the rock, cascading down the cliffs into a little tide pool before it makes a steep drop to the bottom.

Having grown up near the water, I can easily sit for hours just watching it. Waves crashing, rivers flowing, there’s a peacefulness to it, but there’s a lot of power, too. I find it fascinating. And calming.

The falls are the result of melting snow, and this past winter must have seen a lot of it because this is no little trickle. I take a few pictures then find a spot on a nearby bench to have a snack and listen to the water hitting the ground below.

The reverberation gives me ideas about how to use it for energy, and I let my mind drift to different things I might be able to power with it. But after a while, I forget about work and just enjoy listening to music that only the outdoors can play.

It’s different here than along the coast. There’s a constant, relentless echo of water falling as opposed to the rhythmic crashing of waves. Though the air is thicker, the breeze carries no trace of sound.

I could get used to this .

Unlike the rest of my family, I feel more at home outside than in. It’s one of the reasons I didn’t want to go into the family business, and why I’m pursuing a career that, I hope, will help me protect places like this.

***

I’m not sure how long I sit, lost to the sound of the falls, before I realize the sun has moved past my bench. That’s my signal to get moving. I want to be back to my car long before dark.

The descent is easy enough until I get to the rockiest portion, where the ground is extremely uneven. I have to pick my way around to find solid footing, and by going slow I’m able to do so. But despite my caution, a rock that at first feels stable, wobbles when I put my full weight on it, sending me crashing to the ground. The momentary discomfort of landing on my butt is nothing compared to the stabbing pain that shoots up my ankle.

Taking a deep breath, I probe the area that already seems to be swelling, wincing when I hit the source of the injury. It’s painful but tolerable, so it shouldn’t prevent me from getting down the trail. I do have a first aid kit with an Ace bandage in my pack, so I tenderly wrap my foot and put it back in my shoe. It’s a tight fit, though it will have to do because the terrain is too rough to make it down the trail in my sock. I get up and take a few tentative steps.

It's uncomfortable but manageable as long as I go slow, and since there are tons of trees around it’s not too difficult to find a branch I can use as a walking stick to make things easier. That’s the good news. The bad news is, I still have about a half mile to go, and my progress is the opposite of efficient. I’ll be lucky to make it to the car before the light disappears.

I shuffle rather than walk, making very little ground. At dusk, I can just barely make out the parking lot by the trailhead, though I still have a big descent with several switchbacks before I’m finally down. My ankle is starting to throb from the exertion, and I’m debating whether it’d be better to hop the rest of the way when I spot a familiar figure heading my way.

“What happened?” Cade jogs toward me, his normally smooth face lined with concern.

“What are you doing here?” I inhale sharply.

“I saw your car, figured I’d make sure you got back okay since we’re losing sun.”

“You saw my car? What are you doing here?” I ask, still baffled.

“I went for a bike ride after work, further down the valley. I was on the way back and saw your car. What happened?” He zeros in on my ankle and frowns.

“I rolled my ankle. It’s fine.”

“Doesn’t look fine, you can barely put weight on it.” He gestures to my walking stick.

“It’s, yeah… It’s sore, but it’s hard to walk because of the terrain, not because it hurts. Besides, I’m almost down.” I take a step forward but can’t hold back the grunt that comes with it when a zing of discomfort shoots up my leg.

“Stop,” Cade commands as he comes to a halt before me. “You can’t walk. Come here, and I’ll carry you.” He spins so his back is to me.

“What? You can’t carry me the rest of the way.” I shake my head firmly.

“It’s not that far and you’re not that heavy.” He gives me a pointed look .

“Heavier than you.” I stay put. As far as reasons go, I know that’s weak, but I can’t think of anything else to dissuade him from carrying me.

“We’ll be fine if you climb on my back, Solo. That’s the only way we’re getting down before it’s fully dark.” He points toward my foot to support his argument.

My shoulders sink as I realize he makes a good point. Plus, he called me Solo, and even though I hate that nickname, I kind of like the familiarity of it.

“Fine.” I wrap my arms around his neck and push off with my good foot and wrap my legs around his waist so he can hold them to secure my weight, which he does with a little grunt.

“See? I’m too heavy. You’re grunting.”

“I’m not grunting because you’re heavy,” he says with gritted teeth.

He takes a step forward as I do my best to hold still, a futile attempt to ignore the fact our position has my cock pressed against the top of his ass.

Do not get hard. Do not get hard. Do not get hard.

“Then why?” I push.

“Be quiet and let me concentrate. It’s getting dark and I need to watch the trail so I don’t take us both out.” He huffs out a ragged breath, conversation clearly over.

I can do nothing but hang on as we make our way back down, only hanging on means his back is creating way too much friction on my dick. My ankle may be throbbing, but it’s only one body part giving me trouble right now.

I plead to whoever might be listening that Cade’s too focused on walking to notice. Just in case there’s no divine help available, I flex my legs to put about an inch of space between us, so each step isn’t squeezing my denim covered length. Too bad the strain of that position, and the electric buzz filling the void between us, has my heartbeat accelerating in my chest.

It's not the first time that’s happened—our banter sometimes makes my heart race—but I always assumed that was because I needed to think quickly, which always gives me a little adrenaline. Right now, I’m not doing much thinking at all, yet that pesky organ is beating in double-time, and I’m starting to suspect it’s because of the man himself, who’s warm skin I feel through his thin shirt.

I know I’m attracted to Cade, but I’m attracted to lots of guys who don’t make my heart race. Is this… Could I be starting to like him? God save me.

The thought isn’t as unappealing as it would’ve been a few days ago, though.

We reach the parking lot as the last of the sun fades, leaving the sky a hazy purple. Cade sets me down gently next to the car so I can lean against it, though as I reach for my pack to retrieve my keys I realize mine is the only car here.

“Where’s your truck?” I swing my head around, alarmed. Katah Vista is notoriously safe, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t any crime.

“Deacon took it. I told him to go on ahead while I waited to make sure you were okay.” He grabs my bag and fishes through it for my keys, opening the passenger door I’m only now realizing is right next to me.

Shit . First, he carries me down the trail, and now, he’s driving me home? For someone who likes his independence, both are fucking embarrassing.

We make the drive in silence, and once we’re back at the house, Cade insists on helping me hobble inside. We head straight to the couch where he gingerly removes first my shoe, then the bandage. Cupping my ankle with a gentle touch, he probes for the source of the pain.

“Sorry, Solo,” he says when I wince. “I know this hurts but I need to see how bad it is before I give you anything for it. Can you handle me looking?”

“It doesn’t hurt when you do that.” I shake my head to emphasize the point. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

I’m mostly telling the truth. The area is a little tender, but it was his touch that made me flinch, since it was accompanied by an electric current that shot straight to my cock.

I’m not sure he believes the pain is tolerable, though. Cade gives me a weak smile and turns back to my ankle, having me point and flex my toes as best I can. I’m not sure what that tells him, but he concludes the injury is probably just a sprain that will heal with rest. And after grabbing me some ibuprofen, he wraps my ankle again, ‘to push the swelling out.’

“How did you learn to do all this?” I ask as he grabs some ice from the freezer.

“Everyone in this town knows how to do this.” He grabs a dish towel to wrap around the bag of ice. “Guarantee every one of us has sprained or broken something, and most of us have done enough damage to require surgery.”

“Have you?”

He sets my foot on a pillow and arranges the ice around it.

“Yep. Right knee. ACL.” He shows me a scar lining his kneecap. “Most everyone here has a scar just like this. Or four little circles around your kneecap. These days, I think they can fix it without having to open things up.”

I shudder at that. “Why does everyone have these scars? ”

He sits on the couch, just beyond my bandaged foot. “Having too much fun, pushing the limits,” he shrugs.

“What limits?”

“All of them,” he chuckles, the corner of his lip pulling up like he’s reliving some adventure. “How fast you can go downhill… What’s the biggest cliff you can jump off… What’s the craziest trick you can throw...”

“Everyone does this?” My brows shoot sky high. He nods. “Is there something in the water I should be aware of? I don’t want to be brainwashed into thinking I can do any of what you just said.”

I may look athletic, and I know the surfing and the hiking I do counts, but in my mind both are pretty low impact. Nothing like what he’s describing.

“No brainwashing. It just comes naturally the longer you stay here.” He says it so matter-of-factly I think he believes it.

“I don’t get it.” I sink back into the cushions.

“This is the ultimate backyard.” He waves his hand, I assume to encompass the land around us. “Name an activity and you can find it here. Live here and you get better and better at those activities because you can enjoy them all the time, so much so you start looking for even more challenging things to do. More ways to push your limits.”

I’m fascinated by this… by him. Terrified, but fascinated. The only boundaries I’ve ever tested are mental, pushing myself to understand the complexities of the environment, the science that gives the planet life, and how we might benefit from that without damaging things in the process. Even with surfing, there’s a mental component to choosing your wave that appeals to me. Here it sounds like people test their physical limits, to the breaking point, if I understand correctly. On the one hand, I get it, pushing your limits helps you grow. On the other, what he does sounds extreme .

“Let me get this straight, you deliberately try to do things you know might lead to permanent damage, just to see if you can do them? And most everyone in this town lives the same way?”

“Yep.” He smiles proudly.

“So, if I want to stay in one piece I shouldn’t stay here too long?” I mean that to be a joke, but his smile fades as if I’ve hit a sore spot.

“You said it, Solo.” He exhales deeply.