Flirting with Fifty

The trip to Mammoth Hot Springs took two hours: a twenty-minute drive there, lots of walking around the boardwalks on the Upper and Lower Terraces with Jack at her side, explaining what she was seeing. Limestone, gasses, heat, moisture, new travertine formations. To be honest, she was more interested in having Jack’s attention than in the volcanic activity beneath them. Then they were heading back to the education center for appetizers, dinner, and a guest presentation from one of the park’s rangers.

Everyone drifted off by nine, ready to go to bed. Paige and Jack remained outside by the fire, and it reminded her of Paris, and how in the end, it was just the two of them talking.

The night was cold, but the sky was clear and stars glittered overhead. They sat bundled up, feet propped on the edge of the firepit, nursing their port, talking about the day. Between sips of wine, they watched the flames dance and listened to the crack and pop of the fire, as well as the not-so-distant howl of coyotes.

“How do you know those aren’t wolves?” she asked.

“Because I know what wolves sound like.”

“They don’t sound the same?”

“Wolves have a deeper howl, their pitch is low and drawn out, while coyotes have a higher howl, it’s shorter, and rises and falls. One of my students once said coyotes sound like a pack of junior high girls shrieking at the sight of a ghost.”

She laughed. “That’s quite specific.”

“Yes, but it helps differentiate the two howls. Coyotes sound more haunting, while wolves sound more like mournful dogs.”

Paige tipped her head back and looked up into the purple-black sky. “I do love it here.”

“You’ll have to come back.”

She nodded.

“With me,” he added.

She turned her head and looked at him, gaze locking with his. “Or, you could come with me.”

He smiled slowly, appreciation in his eyes. “If we come back together, when would you want to?”

“Whenever we could do this again.” She gestured to the starry sky and the surrounding hills. “We’re here in the park, virtually alone. This is magic.”

“I think you’re magic,” he said, bringing her closer, tilting her chin up for a kiss.

The kiss was warm, sweet. It was a kiss of tenderness, and it sent delicious ripples through her. She leaned in, pressing close. He felt strong and steady, and she felt happier than she could remember. It had been a long time since she’d felt so good in her skin. It had been forever since she’d wanted to be held.

Paige broke off the kiss and looked up into Jack’s face. She studied his features, her fingertip lightly tracing his cheekbone, his jaw, his warm, firm mouth. He hadn’t shaved for the past few days and she liked him with scruff. She liked him.

More than liked him.

Emotion bubbled up and her eyes burned. Was it possible she had loved him all these years? Was it possible to have quietly carried a torch for someone she’d only known one night? “Why do you kiss so good?” she whispered.

“I just kiss you good.”

Another warm bubble of emotion, larger, fuller, making her chest impossibly tender. “Why?”

“Because I’m meant to kiss you.”

“You think?”

“I do.” His gaze met hers, held, his golden irises dark. “From the very first time I laid eyes on you, I’ve wanted you. You feel like you’re mine, as if you’re meant to be with me.”

“You never told me that.”

“You never gave me a chance.”

Her heart ached, even as a jolt of adrenaline raced through her. Something significant was happening. Some of the thick ice around her heart was cracking. Falling. She felt vulnerable and open, but it also felt good. “You didn’t try to find me after I left.”

“You left without leaving a number. You left without saying goodbye. I took that as a no-thank-you-not-interested sign.”

She understood why he hadn’t come after her, but it didn’t change that she wished he had. She wished he’d fought for her, but that was also a childish wish, one that little girls read about in storybooks.

Paige captured his face between her hands and kissed him firmly, deeply, even as an electric sensation raced up and down her spine. Drawing back, she stroked her thumbs lightly over his high, hard cheekbones, and the bristle of a beard on his jaw. “I was scared,” she admitted. “Scared you’d break my heart. I wasn’t as worldly as you. Wasn’t as experienced. And then there was that thing that happened—” She broke off as he lifted a brow. “Yes, I faked it. I panicked. I was taking too long to climax.”

He laughed quietly, then kissed her. “Is that what you were worried about?”

She nodded.

He kissed her again, and then turned her in his arms, shifting her so that she rested against him, his arms around her waist. “I wasn’t grading you. Wasn’t comparing you.”

“How was I to know? We barely knew each other.”

“I had no idea you were so shy. But there was no reason to feel insecure. You were never just sex. I could have gotten laid a hundred times that summer but didn’t. You were the one I wanted to know, but I had to keep my distance.” He grimaced. “I was supposed to keep my distance. You were supposed to be off-limits.”

“I wondered.”

“I broke rules by taking you back to my place. But it was worth it. That night with you was special.”

She turned her head, tried to see his expression. “Really?”

He nodded. “It just felt right. You felt like you belonged there, with me.”

She said nothing, her chest tender, her heart racing.