Lumbersexual (Novella) (5 page)

He laughed at that and then reached over and pushed a curl out of my face.  “They sure are pretty.”  And again, I wondered what he was talking about.  His hand stayed under my chin.  Those intense eyes regarded me, and those soft lips parted.

God, what was this?  

I checked in with my body.

Stomach?  Fluttery.  Heart rate?  Panicking.  Mouth?  Dry.

He leaned in.

I inhaled.  My lips parted.  My heart beat in my throat.  My hands got sweaty, and my mouth dry.

Bam!

The screen door slammed, and we both jerked back and looked toward the house.  In the light of the kitchen, I could see a stunning brunette walking towards us.  “Court!”  

“Oh, shit,” he said under his breath.  “Look who’s here.”  

Pine needles broke under her shoes as she walked down, then stood between us and the fire.  I got a good look at her, even though the fire danced around her head.

Long, perfect, dark auburn hair, with just the right bounce.  Thoroughbred eyebrows framed a face made for modeling makeup.  Tall—his height—and lithe, she was perfect.  The opposite of my compact, athletic build and spastic hair.

“I was told you were here,” she said.

He stared at her, then introduced me.  “Maggie, this is Amanda.  My co-worker.”

Giving him the kind of smile that made me know instantly there was more to it than co-worker, she shook my hand.  “Pleasure.”  And the way she said it, I knew she really thought the opposite.

I got pissed.  She needed to be gone.  Now.

So of course instead of reading my psychic vibes to go back to the house, she settled in right on the other side of Court.  Worse, she started leaning into him, laughing, flipping her hair.  Patting his bicep.

I wanted to feel that bicep.  I wanted to feel what those lips felt like.  What that beard felt like when it scratched my cheek.  What he tasted like.

But Kristy’s warning was spot-on.  He was not the one for me.

Now I was glad he turned me down.

But this also made me feel like the brushfire he’d ignited in my body had been extinguished by chemical retardant—in the form of a willowy brunette.  Nothing but scorched earth and dead brush remained.  Nothing was going to happen.

And that made me lonely, even though I was surrounded by people and would go home to a houseful of roommates.  For some reason I wanted to cry.

I got up and brushed myself off.  “It was nice to meet you, Court.  I’m sure I’ll see you around this summer.  Take care, Amanda.”  My voice cracked on the last part.  Dammit.

I turned to go, forcing the tear ducts shut, embarrassed at how upset I was, but he got up.  “Maggie, you got a ride home?”

“I should.  Unless Ian got too drunk, in which case I’ll drive.”

“I’ll drive you home,” he said resolutely, and started walking me up to the house.

But I could tell that Amanda didn’t like that idea by the way she grabbed his arm.  “Hey!  I needed to talk to you, Court.”

He looked back at her and let out a breath.  “Can it wait?”

And the fact that he was turning her down too gave me perverse pleasure.  Little Miss Perfect couldn’t have him either.

She smiled that smile that didn’t reach any other part of her body.  “Of course.”  She let go of his arm and sat back, studiously looking at the fire, like that’s what she’d wanted to do anyway.

I wanted to roll my eyes.

As we walked back up to the party in the moonlight, leaving Amanda at the fire pit, I tripped over a tree root and Court caught my hand.  “Steady now.”

He didn’t let go of my hand.

I liked holding his hand.  I liked the way it felt.  Solid.

I didn’t know why he didn’t let go, even when we got inside.

But when we walked back into the party, Kristy noticed us immediately.  Great.  Now my new boss would think I was one of his summer conquests.

Extricating my hand from his, I found Emma.  “Is Ian too drunk to drive?”

“Yes, but I’m sober.  I’ll drive us all back in about fifteen minutes.”

Court turned to me.  “I’ll take you now.  You’re at the Brown House?”

Emma said, “Yes.”  Then looked at me, “That’s what the locals call our house.”

“Oh, okay.”

Pushing me by the shoulders, he started propelling me to the door.  “We’re leaving.”  And again, I felt the need to do what he said.

We stepped outside to a dark green vintage truck, which had pulled behind the van.  “This is yours?”

He nodded.

“It’s amazing,” I gushed.  “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

He raised an eyebrow in appreciation.  “Thanks.  It’s an International.”  He unlocked the door for me, and I climbed in and fastened the low, waist-only seatbelt.  It felt funny to be in a vintage truck without airbags or shoulder seatbelts or a plastic dashboard.  He climbed in next to me and started the truck, which came to life with a loud, satisfying thrum, but he paused before taking off, his hand on the wheel.

“Changed my mind.”

I stared at him.  “About what?”

“I’m taking you to the Valley for your first time.”

Now I was thoroughly confused.  “I thought you couldn’t go.”

He looked at me carefully and shifted the car to drive, but still stayed parked.  “Wait for me to take you.”

“I’m not sure I want to do that.”

“Why not?”

“It looked to me like you had someone else.”

Shaking his head slightly, he said, “No.  There’s no one.  Amanda’s pissed because she can’t accept the way things are.  I’m not interested in her.”  We kept going, retracing our way back to my house.  I didn’t have to tell him where to go, he just knew.

“She’s interested in you.”

“Unfortunately.  That’s history.  Don’t worry about it.”

But of course I did worry about it.  

He and Amanda were together at some point in their past, and I felt a surge of jealousy that she’d had him before.  And while they weren’t together now, she obviously wanted him back.

Why did he turn me down?  And why did he change his mind?

I couldn’t come up with a reason.

When we got to my house, he stopped at the driveway, letting the engine run.  I hopped out.  “Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime.”

He watched me go up to the house and didn’t take off until I’d closed the door behind me.

The next morning I woke up early and listened to Emma snore.  Tiny thing made more noise than a generator.  So much for quiet in the woods.  I peeked out the curtains and saw a mule deer eating green leaves right outside my window in the foggy morning.

I lay in my sleeping bag on top of my lumpy bed and thought about my first night in the park.

Of course, I had a lot to think about this morning, and not just because I’d awoken in a new bedroom with a new set of roommates.

Now I had this guy with clear eyes like sea glass, and a voice that did something to me.  But who was also someone I shouldn’t get involved with.

He said not to worry about Amanda.  Did I trust him?  I didn’t even know him.

I chewed on a hangnail and stared at the ceiling.

God, that guy made me all obsessed and body-alert.  I could still hear his deep voice and see the way his torso filled out his shirt.  Then I looked at Emma sleeping, and I realized that I couldn’t get together with him, even if I wanted to, because of the piles of roommates.  I could drive myself crazy wondering whether he really was going to kiss me in the firelight under the stars last night and whether he was sincere when he said nothing was going on with Amanda.  I should just get out of bed.

So, I made a decision.  Rather than risk yet another disappointment, he was firmly friend-zoned.  I’d do it to him, for real, before he could do it to me.  I couldn’t handle another romantic disappointment.  Just no.

Making this decision hurt more than I thought it would.  While I felt relieved by letting myself down easy—it was the kinder thing, right?—the truth was that I also felt bitterly disheartened.

Was I always going to be alone?

Not wanting to wake up snoring Emma, I quietly grabbed a sweatshirt and snuck into the kitchen to make coffee.  Matt sat at the communal table, wearing sweats and a t-shirt, looking out the window, drinking coffee.

“Morning,” I said quietly, as I took a mug out of the cabinet.

“Yes it is.”

So he was about as chipper in the morning as most people were.  Yazmin came scuffling up in her pajamas, taking a mug out, too.

“Today is the solstice so it’s going to be light late.  The longest day of the year.”  That sounded special, for some reason.  Extra daylight to enjoy.

I ate Cheez-Its for my breakfast of champions and then got dressed and went to the ranger station to check in for my first day of work.  Kristy issued me a uniform, and I met the crew I’d be working with for the summer.  

Then I had to fill out forms.

I hated filling out forms.  I never knew which boxes to check for myself.  I never seemed to fit into any of them.  Caucasian?  African-American?  Native American?  

I was all of the above.

Or rather, I was not happy with forms forcing me to define myself by a box.  My identity was so much more than that.

Even if I hadn't figured it all out yet.

After I attended an hour of safety training, she sent me to the park entrance for “professional development.”  She told me that everyone else had already been on a grove walk in the giant sequoias.  I had to catch up, so she sent me on a scheduled tour.

She didn’t tell me that Court would be the one leading it.

When I saw him standing beneath the immensely tall trees of the forest, dressed in a National Park Service uniform, complete with Smokey the Bear hat, I lost my breath, and it wasn’t just from the altitude.  I had no idea that I had a thing for a man in uniform.  And I knew that under those long sleeves were tattoos to die for.

Such a goddamn beautiful way to die.

“This way, everyone.”

A group of about twenty tourists stood at the base of the grove of giant sequoias, looking at the shaggy, reddish-brown bark of the largest living things on the planet.  Court walked us up through the grove to see the famous big trees, pausing every so often to point out facts about the ecology of the area.

So my two weaknesses at once—plants and Court’s voice.

I wasn’t going to survive this hike unscathed, I could tell.

“Giant sequoias need fire to survive.  While people are scared of fires, in reality they are helpful.  They clear away dead leaves and debris on the ground, creating a bed for the seeds to plant.  Everything needs clearing out, every once in awhile.”

He held out his big hand.  Tiny, dark brown seeds, smaller than a flattened grain of rice, rested in his palm.

“Can you believe that these tiny seeds become as big as they do?”

Everyone shook their heads.  The same way that Court’s charisma had commanded the attention at the party, he commanded the group of tourists he was leading.  The group hung on to his descriptions of the life cycle of the trees.  And he was totally speaking my botany nerd language.