Trust (Wrong 3)

I stand under the hot water for what feels like an hour, my hand wrapped around my cock providing about as much satisfaction as fake-dating Chloe does. Don’t get me wrong, I jerk off and I enjoy it. But masturbation never compares with the real thing. Ever. It’s like the difference between watching the NFL on TV and being on the field. And my dick is more than ready to suit up and get in the game with Chloe.

I step out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my waist. I didn’t think about clothing on my way in, too preoccupied to think that far ahead.

“Finally!” Chloe says when the bathroom door opens. “Why were you in the shower for thirty-five minutes?” she asks as I round the corner to grab clean clothing from my suitcase. “I mean, there’s a water shortage in the Mountain States, Boyd…” She trails off when she realizes I’m naked save for the towel.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to,” I respond sardonically and step back into the bathroom to dress.

Chloe’s quiet when I return. She’s sitting in the middle of the bed, legs bent with her arms wrapped around them, staring at me. There’s entirely too much of her legs exposed for my liking so I tell her to take a shower because I’m not quite sure how to tell her to put on some goddamned pants without sounding like a dick.

By the time she emerges from the bathroom dressed, hair still wet and tousled, I’ve had room service delivered. “Sorry, they didn’t have donuts,” I tell her, indicating the food set up on the table. “I got you a waffle with Nutella.”

She slows from putting something into her suitcase and looks at me, suspicious. “You remembered I like Nutella?”

“I’m a pretty amazing boyfriend,” I say and pull out a chair for her. She looks at me a second longer before sitting.

“So are we still pretending today?” she asks, not looking at me so I can’t gauge her exact meaning. Are we still pretending that I need a fake girlfriend? Are we still pretending that I didn’t set this entire thing up so that I could spend time with her without her being anxious about it being real? Or is she asking if we’re still pretending for show? I take a sip of coffee and watch her while she slices the waffle and stuffs a piece in her mouth. She raises her eyebrows while she chews, as if to question why I’m not answering her.

“I don’t know, what do you want to do today?” Nice deflection, Boyd.

She rolls her eyes as she swallows. “I meant do we have to do any wedding stuff today?” She tears off the end of a sweetener packet and dumps it into an empty mug. “Will we see anyone?”

Okay then.

I pick up the carafe and fill her mug and watch while she adds cream and swirls it with a spoon before sipping. “Uh, I don’t think so. Maybe. I’m not sure when everyone is leaving town. But no, we don’t have to do anything today. Except the slide. We have to do the slide.”

“Really?” Her eyes light up.

“Of course. I told you yesterday I’d take you back. Have I steered you wrong yet? Have a little faith, Chloe.”

“Hmm, well, other than blackmailing me, no, you haven’t steered me wrong.”

“Smartass.”

She takes another bite of waffle and eyes me. I can see her gaze lingering on my arms as I take a spoonful of oatmeal.

“We can go after breakfast?” she finally asks, an obvious frown of doubt on her face.

I nod, not sure where she’s going with this.

“Are you sure?” she asks playfully. “You don’t need to hit the gym first?” she presses. “I’ve seen you half naked and that body does not happen without a lot of maintenance,” she teases.

“Oh, this?” I lean back and glance down at my shirt-covered torso then back to her. “I maintain this with sex. Nothing but sex.”

Her eyes go wide. She clearly wasn’t expecting that response. She tilts her head a fraction and the skin on her forehead wrinkles in concentration. “Really?”

Jesus, this girl. “No.” I shake my head with a laugh. “I work out plenty,” I tell her. “But I’m glad you approve,” I add with a lift of my eyebrow.

We leave the Arrabelle and retrace our steps from yesterday to the gondola, Chloe chattering the entire way. She asks about various relatives she met last night. Comments about how beautiful the bride looked and how enchanting the venue was. She’s not telling jokes, so while she seems a little nervous, I think she’s okay.

We have to stop and get lift tickets and sign a release today. Yesterday it was pre-arranged as part of the wedding. I grab a form and dash off a signature then turn towards the counter to pay when I realize Chloe is still reading the form. Line by line. She catches me staring at her and glances at my form.

“You already signed it? Without reading it?” She’s appalled. “This is a legal document, Boyd,” she says, jabbing a finger onto the paper in front of her.

“It’s just a slide, Chloe. Not a death trap.”

She glares at me and then goes back to carefully reading the form while I watch, amused as hell. Finally she frowns and, with a tiny shake of her head and a small sigh, signs the form.

“Are you satisfied now, safety girl? Are you fully prepared for the slide of death?”

“At least one of us is,” she retorts.

I buy the lift tickets and then we cross over to the gondola. She’s got her phone with her today and she starts snapping pictures as soon as we get in and doesn’t stop until we exit at the top. It’s a perfect clear view today, but then it almost always is. Chilly air and bright fluffy white clouds set the scene as Chloe twirls—actually twirls like she’s reenacting a scene from The Sound of Music. But instead of singing she’s taking more pictures.

“What are you going to do with these pics?” I ask her as we walk down the path towards the Forest Flyer.

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t tell anyone we were coming here.”

“I didn’t know we were coming here,” she deadpans, then pauses. “That’s weird that I didn’t tell anyone. You’ve lulled me into a false sense of security, Agent Gallagher.”