Before we start, we go through our morning stretching routines. I find it a little hard to concentrate, though. Much like I find it hard to focus on stretching most mornings. Well, my own stretching, that is. My eyes keep drifting over to Belle, catching the easy way she reaches for the sky one moment, then her toes the next. Her medium height is trim in an elegant sort of way. It shows in her arms and legs, which are smooth and well-defined. And they’ve only been getting more toned since we started. The same for her stomach and backside. Not that I’ve been ogling her. Daily. At least, not on purpose. Even if her ass has the kind of eye-catching shape I wish I could get my hands on.
Belle starts into a standing hamstring stretch, and fuck. If she turned away from me, sticking her ass in the air toward me, I’d probably come in my pants like some gawky teenager. She catches me gawking and chuckles before giving me a saucy wink. Nope. That seals it. She has to stay. So what if it’ll annoy Grinder? It would serve the asshole right for annoying the rest of us.
The asshole in question smacks me across the top of the head, diverting my attention from Belle’s beautiful blue eyes . “Stretch your muscles, not your dick,” Grinder admonishes me.
Belle releases from her stretch, laughing at us. “Do I need to turn around?”
“Yes,” I reply enthusiastically.
“No,” Grinder screams at the same time.
Bats steps between the three of us, pinning Grinder and me with a glare. “Cut it out. Packs. Now.”
I turn to do as I’m told. As I tighten my straps, Bats helps Belle with her pack. He leans in, telling her something that I can’t make out. Whatever he says, it makes her chuckle. She turns her gaze toward me, our eyes locking on each other, and she gives me a warm smile. I return it before Grinder barks out, “Let’s go.”
As we step out onto the trail, the jitters start. At first, it’s a small ball of them in the pit of my stomach. But with each mile, they’re joined by another little jitter. Then another . . . And another . . .
If Belle has the same sense of dread over the looming decision she needs to make, she doesn’t show it. Quite the opposite. There’s a slight bounce in her step, and she smiles as she points out more species as we hike. Today’s star is the Pinyon Pine, a short, bushy tree with edible nuts.
Leaving Deer Spring, we make our way downhill for the next four hours. It’s sunny, but pleasantly cool under the shade of the pines and firs. We pause a few miles from our destination so Belle can get some pictures of a whitish quartzite. I suck down some water through the hose from my water bladder, while debating going over to her to ask the burning question.
A large hand clamps down on my shoulder, pulling me back. “Not now,” Bats says, keeping it simple as always.
“Come again, big guy?”
“Not. Now,” Bats repeats, and I notice he’s also trained his gaze on Belle. Is he wondering the same thing as I am? “Good move with the coffee, by the way.”
Before I can follow up, Grinder yells out from down the trail. “Let’s go. Walk and talk.”
It turns out there wasn’t much time left to talk, as we reach Highway 18 thirty minutes later. Stepping off the trail, we spot a middle-aged couple unloading cases of water. Pretty sure of what they’re doing, we hurry over to help.
“Dropping off a little trail magic, huh?” I ask, grabbing a case.
“It’s nothing,” the woman replies. “We’re with the local PCTA chapter. We do this every year from the middle of April until mid-May. A little something to help the hikers. Are you coming up from the border?”
“We are,” I answer, grabbing another case of water. “Hoping to go the whole way to Canada.”
The woman’s companion passes out a round of bottles in gratitude. “Are you heading into town? We’d be happy to give you a lift.” He nods toward the back of his truck.
We don’t need to be asked twice. Buckles start clicking and we deposit our packs into the back of the truck. I turn to help Belle with hers, only to find Grinder holding it for her as she slips out of it. I cock an eyebrow at him in surprise. He rolls his eyes back at me as he lifts Belle’s pack over the rail to join the rest.
“Where are you headed?” the man asks, opening the door of the cab.
“Post office,” Grinder tells him.
“Can you stop at the hostel?” Belle asks, earning a glare from Grinder.
“What hostel?” Grinder asks, sounding annoyed.
“There’s a hostel in town that accepts packages for hikers,” Belle tells him. “It’s where I was planning on staying. They should have room for all of us, since you mentioned in Idyllwild that you had to cancel your rooms here.”
Grinder scoffs, crossing his arms against his chest. “No.”
“No? Come on. It’ll be fun,” Belle exclaims. “We can meet other hikers. Swap stories. Hang out in town. Have you ever been to a hostel before?”
“Yes,” Grinder answers succinctly. “We spent a month traveling around Europe after graduating from high school. They were a pain in the ass. Besides, I already reserved two rooms at a hotel up the hill.”
Belle crosses her arms, returning Grinder’s gaze. The jitters in my stomach are multiplying like rabbits. This is not good. I open my mouth to get a word in, but Belle continues.
“And where were the rest of us when you made that decision? Don’t we get a say in the plans?”
Oh, fuck. I know exactly where we were. Hello, Mr. Freight Train. Please kill me quickly.
“We were in our hotel room,” Grinder begins, then waves at me and Bats. “They both agreed that it sounded like a good plan. It’s not my fault you weren’t in the room.”
Belle’s eyes dart toward me and Bats, seeking confirmation. I look at my boots instead. I know I’m not the target of her ire, but that doesn’t mean I want to see the anger burning in her eyes. “I’m going to the hostel,” she says coldly. “If nothing else, I need to get my package.”
The question of the day looms front and center in my mind, and I don’t like the answer things are leaning toward. “And from there?” I ask. Because apparently I’m a masochistic idiot who chooses the wrong time to ask important questions.
“We’ll see” is all that Belle says. There’s a moment of icy silence as Belle stares each of us down, one at a time. The silence breaks when the woman offers Belle to join her and her husband up front. Without a word, Belle nods and heads around to the other side of the truck. While I don’t blame her for taking the more comfortable seat, it’s already eating me up inside. Up front, she’ll be alone with her thoughts for the half hour drive into town. A half hour to decide whether the next four months will include me, and there is nothing I can do to persuade her from the bed of the truck.
As we take off down the road, my gaze keeps drifting to the brunette head on the other side of the glass. I want to wrap her in my arms, tell her we’ll stay at the hostel, and everything will be great. But I can’t.
Grinder has the decency not to look at me. Good. I have nothing to say to him. Not anything nice, at least. Instead, he turns toward Bats. “What?”
I turn to find Bats glowering at Grinder. “You can be a real asshole sometimes. You know that?”
Grinder says nothing.
I say nothing.
Bats has said it all.
We spend the next thirty minutes not saying a damn thing.
***
I tap my foot nervously as I wait in line at the post office. The jitters in my stomach have been growing to the point my skin is itchy. I hazard another glance back at Belle. She walked in about fifteen minutes after us, her supply box tucked under one arm, and her phone held tight in her hand. She’s reading something on the community bulletin board, but she’s also been scowling at her phone ever since she walked in.
She didn’t stay at the hostel, I tell myself, trying to find any measure of reassurance. Still, she could decide to leave at any minute. I keep coming back to that thought, and I keep pushing it back down. I don’t want to believe it. I can’t believe it. Belle is like no one I’ve ever met, and I’m not about to let her go just because Grinder has a trekking pole shoved up his ass.
Bats leans toward me. His gaze flicks from Grinder, who’s standing a few feet in front of us, over to Belle, who’s scowling at her phone again. “You should go talk to her,” he tells me.
I shoot Bats a sideways glance. “What? Now?”
Bats nods toward Belle. “Something’s bugging her. I don’t know if it’s Grinder, since the fucker’s done enough to earn that scowl, or something else. Either way, you need to go talk to her. Preferably before Grinder opens his damn mouth again. I can hold your spot.”