Heartburn (Love By Design 3)

Tracking a wayward hiker was part of my job, but usually they were much more pleasant, even grateful and I hated that maybe I’d pissed her off somehow. I should have been angry at her since it was her fault I wasn’t home myself in front of a warm fire.

“Do you have any medical issues I should know about? Diabetes? Hypoglycemia? Medication needs?” I mentally crossed my fingers that she’d say no. “I’ll have to come up with another plan to get us out of here sooner if you do.” The hike back to my jeep would not be fun in this wet mess if she started to have a legit medical emergency and my phone did not have proper cell service out here.

Her tone changed, almost contrite.

“N-no. I guess I am hungry, though.” Her head rolled and I rested my hand on her shoulders to keep her from bumping into my nose. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be a complainer,” she said, and I believed she meant it.

“It’s all good, Lia. I’ve got some energy bars in my backpack.”

Grousing, she leaned back and I guided her to sit down, wrapped up in the blankets as I reached for my bag. “It’s not any vegan hippie shit, is it?”

I riffled through my bag grabbing a bar.

“I thought you were from Brooklyn? Hippie shit is in your blood.” I nudged her, earning me a laugh.

She a

rched a brow. “That’s hipster shit, thank you very much.”

“Isn’t that what you kids eat nowadays? Whole grains and ethically sourced greens?” I grimaced at saying kids.

Lia snorted and I watched her nose turn up. It creased slightly, making it look tiny and adorable on her face. I reminded myself to not be creepy and listened to her talk. “I might be from Brooklyn, but I’m not one of those granola loving hipsters.”

“Oh, well, it’s one hundred percent high protein and carb content covered in chocolate.” I had no idea guessing what was in my backpack. I hoped it wasn’t the leftover spirulina algae bars I had been trying to get rid of from the cute but annoying hippie chick who was always trying to jump me. Callista Anderson owned the organic shop, Dingleberries, in town. The name spoke for itself. My man granola was about to take a nose dive. I reminded myself that a bushy hippie chick’s tantric sex moves were not worth the taste of green algae no matter how good she occasionally sucked my pipe the past few years. After tonight, I planned to clean out the numbers in my phone. No more of that.

“So are you feeding me to distract me from the fact we’re stuck out here?” She held her small hand out.

I handed her a bar, ignoring the soft skin and watched her rip it open. Secretly relieved my manhood was still intact, it was Rocky Road granola peppered with marshmallows and vegan coco-chips. A compromise.

She broke off a piece, handing me half of the bar, which I put into my mouth, chewing. “You must have a really poor opinion of men, sweetheart.”

She sighed, leaning against my chest and I adjusted my legs around her. “I’m sorry. It’s not you…honestly. I just feel defensive.”

“Tell me why? Surely that idiot jock didn’t break your heart?” I couldn’t believe I was having a heart to heart with this girl I barely knew about that toolbox jock back at the campsite. It wouldn’t be happening unless I felt seriously attracted to her, but if we started hashing out how to win him back with a montage of pop songs, I was hiking out now soaked clothes and all. My best friends, Hunter and Damien would force me to turn in my man card after tonight.

“No, I can’t even decide my college major, so I’m sure my heart hasn’t been damaged by that jackass too badly. I’m what my mother calls flighty.” It did make her sound flighty, but I shut my mouth. Best to not agree with her mother sitting here sans clothed and a half-mast hard on nestled in musty wool.

Instead, I tried to be empathetic. “I’m not sure anyone truly knows what they want at twenty. Heck, I joined the army for two years before I figured myself out.” She made a sound that sounded like agreement and it passed the time as we warmed up. I supposed stranger things could have happened. Chewing my half of the bar, I let her talk it out. I liked her voice, sweet and smooth once she stopped shaking with chills.

“I was thinking about my aunt and how she lived her life unapologetically. I’m only twenty years old. I haven’t experienced much in the way of relationships and I really don’t want to die an old maid with twenty felines as my only company.”

“Sounds dire, twenty is an awful lot of cats to wake up next to.” I hummed rubbing my chin on her shoulder.

She leaned in deeper mumbling, “That’s forty judgmental eyes.”

I glared at her waiting for her to look at me. “I imagine there’s a process to getting there with plenty of opportunities for interventions.” She half turned to look at me, laughed, and the blanket slipped down, exposing the pale soft swell of her lace covered breast.

My mouth ran dry looking over the creamy skin of her body and the thin strap that curved over her shoulder. I bit my lip and tried focusing on imparting wisdom instead of her leaning into my lap and feeling my arousal jammed up against my abdomen between my legs.

She peppered me with an unexpected question imparted an annoyed tone. “How old are you?”

My response was automatic.

“I’m twenty-eight.” I wondered if she was asking to make sure I wasn’t some old pervert. Eight years wasn’t a huge age gap between us, but I’d done my stint in the army and seen a few things of the world that might make her cry at night if she knew.

“And your stance on relationships?”

Feeling oddly put on the spot, my initial comeback sounded way more defensive than I intend it to be. “I find love a bit overrated.” I wasn’t sure if Lia was querying me to hook up or berate me for being a relatively normal adult single guy in his late twenties who hadn’t really been looking around for the quote on quote, the one.