Hate Notes - Page 50

“Oh. Did I say next week? I meant tomorrow. The party is tomorrow.”

I squinted. “The big party is on a weekday?”

“Umm . . . yes. Helen is a stickler about having a party on an actual birthday. Anyway, I looked up local places, and there’s a store that sells top-of-the-line gear over on Sixty-Second Street—it’s sort of on your way home.”

I nodded. “Extreme Climb. I know the place. They hold climbing classes and arrange group trips, too.”

Grandmother smiled and pointed a finger at me. “That’s the one.” She looked at her watch. “It’s already almost seven, and I have an appointment downtown at eight o’clock. The store closes at nine. I’m worried I won’t make it. Could I trouble you to pop in and pick out a helmet for me on the way home tonight?”

“Sure. No problem. I’ll grab something and bring it to the office tomorrow.”

She hugged me. “You’re a doll. And if you happen to see anything of interest while you’re there, you should pick it up, too.”

“Umm. Okay.”

“Have a wonderful evening, Reed.”

“You, too.”Extreme Climb hadn’t changed much in the two years that I’d been absent. The megagym concentrated more on indoor rock-climbing classes than on gear sales, and even though they had more than ten thousand craggy square feet and three training walls, one reaching forty feet, the place was always packed.

The guy at the front desk remembered me. I’d done a few of their climbing trips when I’d first started out.

“Eastwood, right?”

We shook. “Good memory. Unfortunately, mine’s not as sharp.”

He smiled. “No problem. It’s Joe. Haven’t seen you around in a long time. Injury?”

“Nah. Just took a break.”

“Back for a refresher lesson? It’s beginner night. You probably don’t want to hit the twenty-five-foot wall with them. But the back climber is open if you want. I can get one of the guys to spot you.”

“Maybe another night. I just stopped in to pick up a helmet for a gift.”

“We just got the new Petzl Trios helmet in today in flat black.” He whistled. “The thing is sweet. It’s not out for display yet, but I can grab you one to check out if you want.”

“Yeah. That’d be great.”

“Give me a few minutes. If you want to amuse yourself in the meantime, go watch the beginner class. We have a few that strapped the helmet on backward. Should be fun to watch.”

I chuckled. “Maybe I’ll do that.”

When Joe disappeared, I wandered around. Seeing everyone climbing up walls, or excited for their first attempt, made me remember how much I used to love the sport. Maybe I should give it a shot again.

A bunch of guys were gathered at the beginner’s wall, looking up while a woman climbed. She was almost to the top of the short wall, about twenty feet up the twenty-five-foot climb, and wore hot-pink shorts that displayed a heart-shaped rear from the bottom. I’d thought that was the cause for the giant smiles they wore. Until I heard the moan.

Each time the woman climber reached for the next peg, she let out a sound that was an odd hybrid of whimper, moan, and sigh. Sort of like Venus Williams in a tennis match, except way fucking sexier. Clearly it wasn’t intentional, because the woman was stretching and trying her hardest to get to the top. But that didn’t make the sound any less sensual. She reached again, and the sultry moan shot straight down to my dick. Damn. It’d been a long time since I’d heard that sound. Too long. For some reason, it made my brain think of Charlotte. I bet she’d make some great sounds in the sack and was pretty damn uninhibited, too. All that pent-up crazy probably translated into one hell of a firecracker in bed.

The woman managed to scale a few more feet and grab on to the top climbing holds with one last, loud moan. She stretched high and rang the bell at the top. The group of guys ogling a few feet away clapped and hooted. The tallest of the group said, “Damn. I’m gonna ask her out. I bet she sounds as good under me as she does overhead.” Even though I was no better than him—standing there staring at the woman’s ass while thinking about what another woman might sound like in bed—the guy’s comment pissed me off.

My attention was diverted back to the climber when she shrieked a resounding woo-hoo and flailed her arms in the air like she’d just scaled Mount Everest.

That voice.

Oh no.

Shit.

It couldn’t be . . .

The woman cheered once again.

But it was . . .

I’d know that scream anywhere.

She started to make her way down. I watched in amazement, still unable to believe it was her.

“Charlotte?” My voice was louder than I’d intended, practically echoing.

She turned to look at me, pausing for a moment to catch her breath before she completely lost her focus and landed in a twisted position.

Tags: Penelope Ward, Vi Keeland Romance
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