a.m. at her, as if she’d done something wrong. Dawn would be breaking by now, and if she couldn’t sleep, she needed to walk, wandering bears be damned.
She pulled on the sweatpants and T-shirt she’d left next to the bed and padded to the bathroom to brush her teeth and fix her hair. Her curls were the only thing pretty and feminine about her, as far as she was concerned. Her nose was a bit too snub, her eyes and mouth nothing special. But since she’d learned to tame her hair into big loose curls with some very expensive product, she made sure never to leave the house without fixing it. If she let it get frizzy and dry, she’d look as washed-up as she felt.
Once she felt bouncy and minty-fresh, Lori tugged on her running shoes and headed for the door. The purple light of the rising sun only hinted at warmth, but she didn’t mind. It fit her strange and icy mood.
Birdsong swelled in the silence of the morning. But once again when her shoes hit the gravel of the parking lot, she couldn’t hear anything but that hated sound, so Lori pivoted and hurried directly for Main Street. Her destination was the river, and she could actually reach it through the junkyard, but there was no path along that stretch. Plus she really didn’t care to pick her way through ancient tires and rusted struts.
Several large pickup trucks passed her as she walked, kicking up diesel fumes as drivers raised a solemn hand in greeting. The old-timers didn’t really wave around here. Too much emotion. The cowboys in the movie Brokeback Mountain had reminded her of most of the men of Tumble Creek, minus the secret gay sex, she supposed. Though if it were secret, what the hell would she know about it? Regardless, the men of Tumble Creek and the surrounding ranches were stoic and hardworking and not inclined to superfluous laughter. Or words.
They certainly weren’t artistic and funny, not like Quinn.
The thought of Quinn made her mouth pull up into a smile as she passed The Bar. Quinn hadn’t called on Monday, despite his threat. If he were any other man, she’d assume he’d gone home, thought over the offer to be her lover and decided a quick disappearing act was in order. But it was Quinn, and she had no doubt he’d been locked in his office, furiously sketching out architectural plans for twelve hours straight and giving not one thought to his scandalous offer.
He would call at some point, when he returned to the real world, and he’d apologize profusely for his forgetfulness, but Lori was thankful for the brief reprieve. She had no idea what to say if he pressed the issue. “No,” probably. If she had any sense at all. Quinn was not the man to act out her fantasies with. It would just be too… intimate.
Wrinkling her nose in embarrassment, Lori turned onto the steep, potholed road that led down to the river. She was so focused on her feet and the loose pebbles that threatened to roll her down the hill, she didn’t even notice that she wasn’t alone.
“Hey!” a deep voice called, startling her into a stumble that nearly took her down.
“Fuck me,” she yelped, arms flailing.
“Anytime, babe,” Aaron Thompson shouted like the idiot he was.
“Thanks for rushing up to help,” Lori snapped back. “Good way to make use of those muscles.”
Completely missing the point, Aaron smiled and flexed his bare biceps. It didn’t really matter that it was only fifty-five degrees out and much colder in the water, Aaron was already dressed for maximum exposure in a sleeveless, skintight neoprene wet suit and a lean red life vest. Lori was pretty sure he never wore underwear. He certainly didn’t have any panty lines, though she could see the clear bulge of his manly junk. As usual.
“You finally coming for that private white-water lesson I offered?”
“Not in a million years.”
“What if I bring along a friend? I did this girl in Aspen last weekend who said she was bi. I told her about you. She seemed, you know—” he wiggled his blond eyebrows “—into it.”
“Aaron,” she bit out, then made herself count to twenty. Lots of people in Tumble Creek assumed she was a lesbian because she didn’t date much and she fixed cars for a living. She’d actively encouraged this belief in Aaron’s case, because she’d grown tired of him stopping by after his last river run of the day to show off his tight neoprene package. Especially after the time she’d caught him rearranging his goods to offer his best side just before he’d stepped into the garage.
Lori shuddered at the thought and watched Aaron’s pretty blue eyes drop lower to check out her chest. She crossed her arms.
“Aaron, listen. Please. I will never sleep with you. And I will never sleep with anyone else in front of you. Nor,” she interrupted when he opened his mouth to speak, “will I sleep with someone you know and then tell you about it. Is that clear enough? Just drop it, all right?”
“But…” He looked confused, not believing even a gay woman wouldn’t want to sleep with Aaron, god of the hot river guides. A deep crease of thought appeared between his eyebrows. “But I thought we were friends.”
“Oh, for God’s sake. I don’t even know what to say to that.”
He shrugged, all traces of thinking gone from his face. “Whatever. Just call me if you ever decide to switch teams.”
“I…” There was no reasoning with a man who was such a bizarre combination of nature boy and gigolo. “I’ll see you later.”
He winked and turned back to the work of unknotting a thick poly rope. Lori’s eyes wandered to his ass, and he must have expected just that, because he turned his head and caught her looking.
“Reconsidering?” he offered in a smooth purr.
“No! I just…” With a growl, she spun and stomped off toward the narrow path that had been worn through the grass, Aaron’s laughter fading behind her. She didn’t want anything to do with that man’s ass, but no one could help but stare at the two perfect globes of muscles perched on top of his bulging thighs. How much time did he spend working out anyway? And how long did it take him to pour himself into that suit every morning? Jesus, she’d seen the hollows on the sides of his ass cheeks.
He’d be perfect for a fling. “If only he weren’t Aaron,” she muttered to herself, then the words hit her brain and she stopped dead in her tracks. A pebble pressed against the ball of her foot so hard that she felt it through the sole of her shoe. But she didn’t move.
Aaron was perfect for a fling because he was Aaron. He was young, hot and eager. He’d do anything she asked him to. And there was absolutely no danger of it developing into something deeper. Perfect.
And not the least bit tempting.
Not like Quinn.
She pressed her weight harder to her right foot until the pebble felt like a thorn. Her thoughts of Quinn held firm, unaffected by the pain. She wanted him. And she needed the distraction, really needed it. This thing with her dad, it could go on for months. And she had nothing—nothing—to distract her. Except Quinn and his offer.
Lori lifted her foot and kept walking, keeping a close eye out for any sign of bears ahead. If it were springtime, she wouldn’t be out at all. In the spring, the bears were not only hungry, they had baby bears to protect. “Eek,” she muttered.
The river rushed and roared beside her, always louder than she expected despite that she’d grown up
