“We survived,” I said gruffly. “We made it through. We’re settled now.”
She knew I hated dwelling on those days, much less talking about them.
“We are. Thanks to your hard work.” She cupped my cheek, serious now. “But at what cost? You never got to be carefree or to dream big dreams. You took on too much responsibility too soon. And that’s why Hawk Sunday is so good for you.” She patted my cheek, then busied herself setting our places at the island. “He reminds you that it’s okay to have fun. When you’re with him, you let yourself be passionate about things besides work.”
“I’m passionate about plenty of other things that don’t involve him,” I argued. “Like… like… volunteering with the Nature Scouts when they came to the diner for a cooking demonstration. And renovating my house. And outdoorsy stuff—hiking and snowshoeing and swimming…” I faltered, realizing she was right. All of those were things Hawk and I did together.
Mom was kind enough not to point this out. “I’m glad you two are taking a break tomorrow. You’ll relax a little. Have some fun. Cold front’s moving in, so you’ll have a nice cool breeze, too.”
But it turned out that my mom was wrong, at least about this.
I did not relax. I did nothave fun.
And while the weather might have cooled down some, things were hot as fuck on that mountain trail because Satan himself sent Hawk Sunday to torment me.
It started off well enough.After leaving my mom’s, I’d gone home and crashed into bed, too tired after a week of sleepless nights to do any work on the house, and I’d woken up clearheaded and determined. I just had to make Hawk see that our relationship was perfect as it was. That nothing ever needed to change…
And then I’d seen Hawk walking toward me at the trailhead wearing my old Portland Red Claws hoodie.
He’d stolen the shirt so long ago I couldn’t even remember the circumstances, and I’d seen him in it a million times… but it had never hit me like it did today, with a possessive thrill that made my mouth water.
The sweatshirt that had once been red was now faded to a weathered pink, and the angry lobster holding a Portland Red Claws banner was peeling from repeated washing. The edges of the cuffs were shredded and hung down over his hands, and the bottom of the garment came down so far that for a split second, I wondered if he had shorts on underneath. His shapely leg muscles led from the hem of the hoodie down to his thick wool socks and scarred hiking boots.
I couldn’t think of a single thing to say, so I’d made a stupid comment about the weather, and then I’d tried not to swallow my tongue as my eyes tracked the mesmerizing movement of those legs for the first quarter mile.
“You’re being awfully quiet,” he said after a few minutes on the deserted, early morning trail.
I glanced up at the back of his head. “Sorry. Woolgathering.”
He let out a little huff of laughter. “No one uses that word anymore.”
Hawk was right. I’d picked it up from him a while back when he’d recounted one of hisPride and Prejudicestories. He’d said it wasadorably antiquated.“Guess that makes me special, then, huh? If nobody uses it but me and Mr. Darcy?”
Hawk went silent, the muscles of his back tight with tension, and I replayed my words in my head. What had I said wrong?
After a moment, he said, “Did you go to your mom’s last night? How is she? How’s Peony?”
“Good. She, ah… she was worried about you, actually. My mom, I mean, not the dog.”Way to be smooth and get things back on track, Jack.
Hawk turned to face me so quickly that if he’d brought his trekking pole, we’d have wound up in the dirt again. “Worried why?”
“Well, because… uh.” I scratched my head. Too late, I realized there was no good way for me to explain this without making things even more awkward. “She wondered why you weren’t with me. We’re kind of a package deal, you and me, right?”
The words were meant to be a joke, but Hawk didn’t laugh.
“And also…” I cleared my throat. “Mom said there was a rumor in town that you’re having problems with someone at work. You checked out a book at the library about workplace issues?—”
“Ugh. Mr. Yetzer has no concept of librarian-patron confidentiality.” Hawk set his fists on his hips and glared up at the sky. Between his oversized sweatshirt, his reddened cheeks, and his mulish expression, he should have looked like a kid…and maybe any time before last weekend, that’s what I would have seen when I looked at him. I would have known exactly what to say to joke him out of his temper.
Now, stranded on this island of Want But Can’t Have, caught between the safe harbor of Platonic Friendship and the chaotic waters of Super-Unplatonic Cherry Poaching, all I could see were the lean muscles of Hawk’s thighs, his high cheekbones, that damn sexy nose ring.
But I noticed Hawk didn’t offer any other explanation for the book.
“Is it me?” I asked stupidly.I’m the problem, it’s me.
His jaw tightened. I could tell he was trying to decide whether or not to be honest with me.
“You can tell me anything, Bird,” I softly encouraged. “You’ve always been honest with me. Iexpectyou to be honest with me. Even if I, ah… don’t always react the way you wish I would.” My face heated, but I kept going. “You know that you’re one of the most important people in my life, right? So if there’s a problem, you should tell me.”
