Claws & Crochet

Part 35

WARNER

"I've decided how you can repay me for the jig saw."

Gently, I trace my lips over the lines of her face. I taste her skin, loving the bit of salt mixed with the heat of a rising blush.

"Oh really?" Her voice sounds light, breathless.

"How would you feel about taking a break tomorrow?"

"Taking a break?" Zoey asks, as if the idea never occurred to her.

"Yes. As in, give yourself a day off from the cabin and website designing. Let me take you out."

She tilts her head up to meet my eyes. "Like, on a date? For dinner?"

"More than just dinner. I'm requesting a full day. You and me, going on an adventure. And yes. A date." I move my hands up her back, admiring the shape of her through her baggy clothes.

"What's an adventure date?"

"You've never had an adventure date?" I grin down at her and she responds with a curious smile.

"Can't say that I have."

"Well then you're in for a treat."

***

ZOEY

Today, I officially summited a mountain. For the first time. How have I lived my entire life in Colorado and never done so before?

Probably because I spend most of my time bent over a computer rather than planning adventures.

"Watch your step. You might not think it, but going up is easier than coming down," Warner calls over his shoulder, navigating the rocky trail as easily as if he's strolling down a sidewalk on Main Street.

I keep my eyes on the ground, avoiding any obvious loose rocks. It's not long before the heavy steps start up an ache in the soles of my feet, and despite Grandma Minnie's boots being my size, they still rub blisters on my soles. The band-aids I put on a little while ago only help so much.

Still, I smile.

By the time we reach the trailhead, the sun is just sinking below the trees. The sweat on my skin makes me shiver, and I hurry to unlock my truck.

"You cold? I brought this." Warner sets his backpack on the bed of the truck and rummages in it until he pulls out a large black sweatshirt. It matches his outfit for the day: black baseball hat, black t-shirt, black athletic shorts, black socks. The only bit of him that's not noir are his brown hiking boots.

I wonder if the gothic color pallet is his attempt to maintain his biker-persona even as he dresses for hiking.

What would it take to get him in a pink shirt?

He'd still probably look badass.

The sweatshirt is large on me, and I enjoy the soft warmth of it while ignoring the fact that I'm stinking it up with my sweaty body.

A shower is going to feel so good.

"Thank you." I grin up at Warner, and he leans over to press a kiss at the corner of my jaw, his hot breath against my ear making me shiver for an entirely different reason. He's even kind enough to not wrinkle his nose at what I'm sure is a cloud of reek hovering around me.

Once we're on the road, me behind the wheel, Warner hands me a granola bar after hearing the grumbling complaint from my stomach.

"You had fun, right?" He asks between bites of his own snack.

I nod. "Are there more hikes like that around here?"

Around is a relative term, seeing as how we drove a good hour to reach the trail head. But the views were worth it. Every time we broke through the trees, we could gaze for miles at the gorgeous, jagged tops of the Rocky Mountains. Living in Colorado my whole life, I took for granted the beautiful views from my apartment and car window. I never considered how much better they'd be if I got off my butt and climbed a little higher.

Warner chuckles, reaching over to give my knee an affectionate squeeze. "Plenty. We can climb as many mountains as you want. Especially if I get to hike behind you."

"Why's that?"

"Because I love the view." He draws his hand further up my thigh before giving another squeeze.

I snort and bat his hand away. "I'm driving! You're going to make us run off the road."

He leans back against his door, laughing.

Warner is tearing into his third granola bar when things go wrong.

The car sputters and shakes, and stalls out. The engine goes quiet. Luckily, the breaks don't fail. I slow us down, coasting to the side of the road until I can bring us to a full stop.

"Did you run out of gas?" he asks, leaning over to study the dashboard.

"No! I still have half a tank." I reach past the steering wheel to tap the display. Only, the second I make contact, the gas needle quivers and drops to land on the E.

"Fuck." My forehead hits the steering wheel. "This truck keeps finding new ways to screw me over."

"It's okay, Zoey." A warm, comforting hand cradles the back of my neck. "We're maybe forty-five minutes from town. I'll just call . . ."

His trailing off has me turning my head, and I catch Warner frowning at his phone.

"You don't have any service here. Do you?"

His grimace is all the response I need.

I reach for my own phone, and my half-hope is quickly dashed. No bars for me either.

"Okay. New plan." Warner says. "You chill out here, and I'll jog down the road till I get service or find a gas station. We passed at least one on our way out."

"See, I like that plan, except for the part where I'm required to sit in a truck alone on the side of the road with no cell service for who knows how long. Plus, look at you." I gesture at his body.

Warner glances down at himself, brow wrinkling in confusion.

I reach over to pluck at his dark shirt. "Walking on the side of the road, dressed like this, you're practically begging to get hit by a car. Meanwhile I"—my hands wave at the colorful leggings I chose to wear on our hike—"could easily act as a traffic cone. We'll both go."

He sighs, but his lips curl into a reluctant smile. "Fine. We'll both go."