Page 35 of Off the Trail

“No, it’s okay.”

“Thanks. And thanks for today. It was good.”

He holds my gaze for a long second. The cab of the truck suddenly feels smaller, even though there’s a good bit of distance between us. There’s a pull here, making me want to get closer. It’s unsettling, so I shift away from him until my back hits the door. “Goodnight, Shawn.”

He opens the passenger door. “Goodnight, Blaze.”

I wait until he’s inside the cabin, the light behind the blinds in the front room switching on, before I back the truck up and head home.

I’m parked next to Brooke’s car and can hear Misty barking out a greeting from inside when I remember the game we didn’t watch. I fire up the sports app on my phone and find the score. Laurels won 6-5. That gives them a good start on their way to becoming division champs. I debate calling Shawn in the cabin. But I’d only be calling him because I selfishly want to hear his voice again.

I take Misty out for a hurried run around the house, then she settles in her bed for the night. The door to Brooke’s room is closed, so I figure she’s in for the night, too. I get into my bed. It’s chilly tonight. I’ll need to bring in logs from the woodshed tomorrow. We have gas heat, but I like to use the fireplace as much as I can. There’s nothing like it for ambiance.

I wonder if Shawn likes a fireplace. Don’t most people?

I catch myself wondering and sigh.

Next year Brooke will be in the new house, and it’ll just be me and Misty living here. Shawn will be long gone by then. Who cares if he likes fireplaces or not?

Still, squinting green eyes flash behind my closed ones as I drift off to sleep.

Chapter 14

Shawn

Sunday morning I peek outside my cabin door to find curling mist draped around the lake like netting. I throw on my sneakers and head out for a quick run. I crave the stretch and strain of my muscles, the burn in my lungs. My breath shows in the morning air, and moisture beads on my eyelashes. I purposefully go in the opposite direction of Blaze’s place, instead heading past the main lodge building and the beach with the dock. I sprint along the packed sand road until I’m winded, then turn around and jog back. I push through the main lodge doors in search of someone to tell about my intention to join the group for tonight’s supper.

“Hi Marika,” I call as the owner herself rises from behind the front desk.

She smiles at me, broad and welcoming. “Out for a jog?”

“Yeah, it’s gorgeous out there.”

“It is,” she agrees. “Can I do something for you?”

“I just wanted to see if it was all right if I joined for Sunday supper?”

“Of course,” she replies smoothly. “Five o’clock in the ballroom.”

“I’m coming from something in town, so I might be a few minutes late. Is that okay?”

“Not a problem.” She cocks her head. “Do you need transportation?”

“Uh. No.” I’m glad my face is already red from my run because I’d probably be blushing. “Blaze is lending me his truck.”

I think I catch a small twitch of surprise around her mouth, but she otherwise stays neutral. “Then you’re all set for your outing.”

Is it strange that Blaze is lending me his vehicle? I half thought he’d done it for other guests. But maybe it’s just me. The idea of being an exception for Blaze makes my chest warm. “I’m going to a woodworking class at that place in Laketon.”

“Oh, how fantastic! I’ve always wanted to take one of their classes.”

“I kind of fell into it. But I’m looking forward to getting my hands moving.”

“Enjoy. And we’ll see you later.”

I walk back to the cabin, my sweaty clothes cooling rapidly in the air. A hot shower warms me up again. I linger under the spray, soaping up my pits, running my hands down my chest. Blaze has such thick hair on his chest. I remember seeing his body my first day here when he came out of the lake pulling the float like it was nothing. I wonder what it would be like to touch, to rub against that hair. I couldn’t help noticing the thatch of it leading into the waistband of his swim trunks. He doesn’t seem like the type to trim or shave. I soap up my own pubes, wondering if his would feel different. I try picturing his hairy bush, his thick cock. Is he cut like me? I don’t know why I want to find out, but I do. After a lifetime of locker rooms, where I’ve seen every kind of body type in every stage of undress, it’s Blaze who’s captured my imagination and my libido.

If I was going to be interested in a man, I could have had any number of opportunities over the years. But it never occurred to me. To be honest, I’ve never been that pulled to any particular woman, either. The ones I’ve been with all approached me, and all left when they figured out that baseball—not them—was my life. I thought that’s how it would always be.