Page 96 of The Quit List
I fold my arms, playing it cool. “Very true. In fact, I believe I may have come across a Sasquatch this morning.”
This makes him laugh. “A Sasquatch, you say?”
“Apparently they’re real. Not even at your cabin for twenty-four hours and I’ve already seen a wilderness legend. I’m impressed.”
“Well. If you think that’s impressive, wait until you see the view you’ll be waking up to tomorrow morning.”
He says this so pointedly, so flirtily, that my cool slips and is replaced by a veritable, hot flusterfest. I swallow thickly, convinced that there’s a sudden shortage of oxygen in this heavily treed, pollution-free, uninhabited pocket of nature. “What will I see tomorrow morning?”
The glint in his eyes is now positively wicked. “The camp spot I’ve selected for us tonight. There are mountain views for miles. What did you think I meant?”
Jerk.
“That,” I croak. “Obviously.”
He laughs, but when his eyes catch mine, there’s a new heat in them. A heat that tells me that, even though we’re fine and nothing’s weird between us—even though we’re “back to normal”—he’s thinking about last night as much as I am.
“I’m almost done packing our backpacks, so I’m ready to go when you are—adventure awaits,” he says, not taking his eyes off me.
I don’t reply, just keep my eyes steadily fixed on him. All I want to do is kiss him again. Scratch that—I need to kiss him again.
At that moment, it hits me.
For so long, I’ve been so focused on not wasting any more time, been focused on the destination rather than the journey. But out here, in the mountains with Jax, we have nothing but time. No matter what happens, one thing’s for certain, and that’s that we get to spend the next three days here alone together.
And I plan on enjoying every moment of our adventure.
“Born ready,” I finally reply, which earns me a dimpled smile.
With that, we’re off.
Rick leads the way, Jax is close behind him, and I bring up the rear—while focusing all my efforts on trying not to stare at another rear as I go.
34
HOLLY
The hike is grueling.
Jax wasn’t messing around when he said that it was going to be a challenge.
This is technically, according to Jax, one of the “easier” routes. But with the length of ground we’re covering, the rough terrain, the progressive incline, and the backpack strapped to my shoulders, this feels a whole lot more in the department of “extremely hard.”
By the time we stop at a viewpoint for a water and snack break, I’m sweaty, panting, and my muscles are aching. I take a seat on a nice, smooth rock and attempt to catch my breath.
“You’re doing great, Holly,” Jax says as he helps me unclip my backpack and maneuver it to the ground. He takes off his own pack, then unscrews the lid from a metal water canteen and passes it to me. “Handling it like a pro.”
“How many more miles are we covering today?” I ask through a gasp before chugging water. Until I remember the peeing-in-the-woods situation and slow down my gulps.
“Four down, three to go.” His eyes rake up and down my body. “How’re you holding up? Sore anywhere?”
“I’m fine,” I say squeakily. Truth is, my feet are already sore, but I can’t bring myself to tell him that I might be getting blisters due to the fact that I did not actually wear the hiking boots he purchased for me around my house to break them in.
And yet… I’m happy. Truly happy.
The sun is shining down warm on my face, the birds are singing in the trees, and the air is becoming progressively crisper and cooler—fresher, if that’s even possible—as we gain elevation and leave the forest behind. I’m exhausted, feel like I’m about to pass out from over-sweating (if that’s a word), and would love a relaxing bubble bath right about now, but I’m also really enjoying myself.
It doesn’t hurt that Jax has been by my side the entire way.