Page 17 of Hogging the Hunk
Producing a granola bar from my backpack, I handed it to her. “I’ll give you that. Let’s keep going a little farther, though. There’s a ridge just up there that overlooks the whole valley and with the trees beginning to change, it’s breathtakingly—”
The sound of other hikers filtered through the scattered trees. I watched the top of the trail, waiting for them to crest the hill. From where they were coming, it was a fairly straight shot that led down to the gravel parking lot. Most of my hikes, I found trails remote enough that I didn’t see another soul while walking, and when I did pass someone, a curt head nod was more than enough conversation. People didn’t wander out in the woods for chit-chat. Whoever was coming, I could sense the tension long before I could see them. Whatever the subject of their conversation, their words were clipped and terse.
“I can’t believe someone else is going to see me in these ridiculous hiking boots. I told you I didn’t want to wear these manly boots.” Ellie whispered to me as I stepped behind her, preemptively making room for the other hikers.
“If it makes you feel any better, anyone who hikes seriously wears boots like yours.”
“Maybe someone ought to design hiking boots that aren’t hideous. Mine are the color of paper bags and burned orange.” Ellie’s pace slowed, and even through her jacket, I could see her shoulders stiffen. She spoke to me with a voice hushed out of apprehension. “They sound like they’re arguing.”
“It’s hard to judge from this far away. Maybe they’re—”
“Everything is just peachy!” a woman snapped. The sarcasm resonated loud and cutting.
“Let’s get past them and it’ll be fine,” I urged Ellie onward by veering around her and setting a good clip. “Once they see us, they’ll button their lips until they think we’re far enough away. And, looking on the bright side, I guarantee they won’t notice your boots.”
Ellie reluctantly agreed, tightening her grip on her makeshift hiking stick, snapped to size across my knee from a downed branch. Another ten paces and the bickering hikers came into view.
Beckett? And Greg? He was back already?
I stopped abruptly, and Ellie plowed into my back. She was slight and barely made me falter, not that I noticed. This wouldn’t be a simple nod and scoot past each other.
Beckett doesn’t need you to rescue her, remember? She’s entirely capable on her own.
I knew that. I knew that. Didn’t mean that I liked knowing she was spending her time doing something I loved, only with Greg. For the record, he looked completely out of his element in a white jacket and gelled hair, and he slipped several times in his expensive running shoes. His discomfort was more gratifying than it should have been.
Beckett took the long but careful strides of an experienced hiker while behind her, Greg crisscrossed the trail, constantly looking for the path of least resistance. I had the impression she was trying to lose him.
“Maybe we should turn around and go to the car,” Ellie whispered. “That lady looks ticked and I like to keep my drama on Netflix.”
“When did you get so smart?” I put my hand on Ellie’s head, pretending to size up her brain.
She giggled and shoved my hand away. Still, I didn’t oblige her and retreat.
Holding my breath, I tried not to listen in on Beckett and Greg’s conversation. Greg’s eyes kept flashing ahead to Ellie and me. Beckett still hadn’t seen us. Her glare was directed to navigating the rocky trail, punctuated by occasional dagger throwing with her eyes. Greg had the sense to wince when one hit him. I stabbed him with a couple myself, though he took no notice.
“Can we please talk?” I heard Greg whisper.
“No.” Beckett snapped. “I’m sick of running around in circles. If there’s one thing I’ve—”
With Beckett barreling down the hill, not even considering that there might be other people in the vicinity, I’d stepped off the narrow path, politely offering Beckett and Greg the right-of-way. I had clearly underestimated how ticked she was—there was a good chance she’d blow past me and my existence wouldn’t even register. Within a few feet, Beckett finally saw my feet and came to an abrupt, startled half. One hand flew to her chest, the other to her mouth. Her eyes dashed up to mine. There was anger simmering in them alongside her surprise, but what made my hands clench in fury was the pain. A film of unshed tears pooled near her lashes and she blinked them back before they could escape.
“Milo? What are you doing here?” she asked with a strangled laugh.
I ignored Greg and focused on Beckett. As a friend. She pretended to scratch at the corner of her eye to covertly wipe away a rogue tear. Greg received the full measure of a deadly glare, who returned a scowl. Then my eyes were back on Beckett. Greg was irrelevant.
“I’m hiking.” I remembered Ellie was with me, so I amended, “We’re hiking.”
It took less than an iota of a second for Beckett to piece together the puzzle with the vague hints she’d gleaned previously and the giant clue she had in front of her now. Ellie was the one I’d been shopping for when Beckett came to my aid. Ellie was the reason I went to work early, so I could be there to drop her off and pick her up from school. Anyone with eyes could see that Ellie was no random girl—from her wavy, dark hair to her nose, she was unmistakably my daughter.
“Oh.” Beckett’s bright eyes volleyed back and forth between me and Ellie. “Oh.”
Ellie didn’t appreciate either that Beckett was drawing conclusions about her, or that I hadn’t told Beckett that Ellie was living with me. In no way, shape, or form was I embarrassed by Ellie. I did, however, want to respect Ellie’s right not to be the center of town gossip. My daughter’s history might be considered salacious by a handful of the more callous residents, so Ellie’s transition to Button Blossom was intentionally slow, on her own terms.
“Hi.” Beckett held out her hand. “I’m Beckett.”
As stubborn as a mule, Ellie kept her arms at her side. She had made up her mind, for whatever reason, to dislike Beckett enough to be rude. Intervening, I wrapped my arm around Ellie and drew her into the circle. “This is my daughter, Ellie.”
Unfazed by Ellie’s refusal to abide by any contrived social niceties, Beckett smiled genuinely at her. “Nice to meet you, Ellie. Your dad and I have a long history together.”