Page 79 of The Key Holder

“Depends on how fast we hike, but if we make steady progress, we should be there by mid-afternoon.”

“As long as you carry me when I’m tired.”

I knew he was joking.

I think.

As we hiked deeper into the woods, the scent of pine needles and damp earth filled the air. We’d have to go through some dense forest before we came back out near the water on the other side of the lake. I’d been this way on my morning runs, but I didn’t think Dylan had seen this part of the area in years.

The trail, narrow and winding, led us past towering trees, fields of flowers, and over a babbling brook or two. Dylan stopped every time we heard a new bird call and we spent a few minutes trying to pinpoint the source. Every so often, Dylan would make a comment about my muscles or my ass, and in return, I would remind him not to roll his ankle.

During a quick pitstop for a lunch of trail mix, I said, “We’re almost there.”

“We’re ending up back near the lake, right?” Dylan sniffed his armpit. “I’m gonna need a bath.”

“Yeah, don’t worry. It should be perfect.”

A few minutes after being back on the trail, I heard voices ahead, moving closer.

It was two men, one older, one younger.

“Afternoon,” the older one said with a smile. He had salt and pepper hair, and a big frame.

“Nice day for a hike,” I replied.

“That it is. Always makes me feel young.”

I stepped to the side of the trail to let them pass. The younger one was pretty – he reminded me of a sandy blond Dylan – and he definitely checked me out as they passed. It was obvious Dylan had noticed. During our pause, he had moved closer to me and his hand was currently resting on my ass.

“Enjoy the rest of your hike,” I called after them, earning myself a pinch. “What?”

“A little friendly there, huh?”

“Was I too friendly?”

“The young one almost got on his knees when he passed you.”

I started on the trail again. “Jealous?”

“A little.” Dylan jogged to catch up to me. “Do you think they’re a couple?”

“Do you?”

“I think so. I felt a vibe,” Dylan answered.

I had to laugh. “You think any two guys are a couple. Maybe they’re father and son?” I paused. “Careful, there’s a big root here.”

“Thanks,” Dylan said, taking my hand. “More like grandfather and grandson.”

“Do you think they thought we’re a couple?” I asked. “Maybe they thought I was your dad?”

“Um, you kind of were.”

Not where I expected this conversation to go, but here we were. “But I’m not.”

“Well, I might not have your DNA, but I certainly like having your DNA inside me. Keep it up and maybe you'll change my 23andMe results.”

“That’s both funny and hot, but genetics don’t-”