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“What? Why?” Her lips form a little oh and those dark eyes widen. “Do I smell?”
“No.” I bark out a laugh. Tempting is what she smells like. It’s all I can do to keep from pressing her against the counter and letting her feel what she does to me when we kiss. But that’s not how a gentleman treats a lady. I don’t often live up to Mom’s behavioral expectations, but for Sage, I want to. “Fried rice may not be in my recipe wheelhouse, but I think it’s something I can manage. Let me do this for you while you go wash off the day. And in case there is any question, that’s not because you need to shower.” My thumb caresses her cheek, chest rising as I suck in air. “I simply want to do something nice for you.”
And then my lips are brushing against hers. She tastes like a mix of lemon and sugar. Her tongue twirls against mine and the tips of her fingers dig into my waist. She moans, and the sound goes straight to my dick. I’d happily lift her, place her on the counter, and kiss her until she begs me to do more. But I will not do that.
My forehead falls to hers, and the pad of my thumb dries her lip. The tips of our noses touch and her eyelids flicker open. It’s hard to swallow. Hell, it’s hard to breathe. A change of subject is needed.
“Tomorrow, I was thinking we might go for a hike? There’s a canyon nearby. If we strike out early, we can avoid the sun. Have plenty of time to rest in the afternoon. To get ready for our date?”
Because yes, I will take this girl on a date. A real date. The kind a girl like Sage deserves. And then? I don’t know. We live on opposite sides of the country. This doesn’t completely make sense. Maybe all we’ll have is a date or two while we search for her sister. A brief connection before we part ways. Whatever we have, however long we have it, I’m going to treat her right.
CHAPTER 14
Sage
My pulse? Still racing. And it’s not at all because of the vertical climb through a sandy trail with next to no shade. I’m walking on air. It’s a cheesy thought reminiscent of the oldies tunes the nurses at the hospital liked to play on a low volume in the reception area.
I never dared to imagine I would one day feel this. So light. Carefree. My facial muscles burn from the smile I can’t calm.
He’s kissed me five times. Knox Williams has kissed me, Sage Watson, five times. And he’s been the one to initiate. Every. Single. Time.
I cannot wait to tell Jimmy. But then again, I can. Because talking about it out loud will allow reality to seep in and risk puncturing my atmospheric cloud. Jimmy will ask if I’m still coming back at the start of the school season, and I’ll say yes, of course. And then a heavy weight will hang in the air with the reality that soon I’ll be back in Asheville. Soon, Arrow’s band of detectives will figure out what my sister has gotten herself into. Once she’s rescued, no one will have a reason to chase after me, and I’ll have no reason to be here under a blue sky, hiking with Knox, hotter-than-the-gods, Williams.
But before all that happens — and I want it to happen because we have to find Sloane—I can enjoy this hike and memorize every second to replay for years to come.
Sloane is okay. We’re going to find her. I feel it in my gut, just like I feel it in my gut that one day Sam is going to come home. But before that happens, I do hope, as selfish as it is, that I get my date with Knox tonight.
He’s convinced a date means a fancy dinner, but to me, it feels like we’ve been on one continuous date since the soccer match yesterday morning.
For as long as I live, I’ll remember our kiss on the pier. His tentative expression. The slow way he moved in, gradually eliminating the space between us. The soft press of his lips. I wish I had it on video.
“You doing good?” Knox calls from behind me. The trail is narrow, and we’re staggered, me in front. And my mind’s been lost in la-la land.
“I’m good.” It’s the understatement of the century.
Millie has been off leash for most of our trek, but she’s stayed close. Up ahead where the trail splits, she waits for us, recognizing the pack has a decision about direction.
“It’s a quick sprint to the top if we take the vertical. Or, if we curve left, it’s a flatter route, but longer.”
“You know this trail well, huh?” Everything Knox does, he does well. Just like Sam.
“If I’m on a mountain bike, I’ll go left. If I’m running, I’ll go straight.” He’s stepped up behind me and his fingers curve around my hip. I suppress a purr. What I really want to do is lean back against him.
It’s how I woke up this morning, with his warmth cocooning me and even though my skin is slightly damp with sweat, I’d love to lean into his hard, muscular chest. I look over my shoulder, lifting my chin, hoping for another kiss.
“Maybe when we come back, we’ll bring a pair of mountain bikes. Have you been drinking your water?” And now he’s concerned. Concerned enough that checking on me ranks above kissing.
“Yes.” I force a smile and lift my half empty bottle for proof, not that he can see how much is inside the gray-blue metal container, but it’s a lot lighter. Besides, I’m mindful of hydration. If I fall behind, my tongue feels parched, serving as a signal to up my water intake. He’s wearing sunglasses and, while I can’t see his eyes, I feel them scanning me from head to toe, checking for issues. “I’m good. Really.”
Millie’s ears perk forward, attention trained on me until the second my foot angles to the right, choosing the more challenging path. She charges forward, her question answered. I chug back water, not bothering to slow my pace to drink.
“My kind of girl,” I hear Knox say from behind me. “Going for the challenge.”
My life has been a challenge. I could say that to him, but I won’t because then he’d feel sorry for me. I don’t want sympathy. Sympathy is a disservice to those who had it harder. To those with complications. To those who didn’t get to live as long as me. It’s a disservice to me, because damn it, I am strong. And lucky. And grateful.
My only regret is that my life came at such a significant cost. Two lives. My donor. And the person on the list who didn’t get an organ. Others might not look at it like I do, but it’s the reality of the situation. In some ways it’s a burden. I’m living for three.
I charge up the last straight bit, using my hands for balance, letting my fingers dig into the sandy packed soil. My leg muscles strain, and there’s pressure against my bottom, and suddenly I’m lighter. The view of dirt transitions to flat ground, blue sky, and vista across the town to the ocean as I clamber to the peak.
