her first lover?
Both applied.
He merely chuckled. “Yeah, I always was hard to pigeon-hole. Still am, to be honest.”
Lily lay back on her bed, closed her eyes, and was transported back in time. Having just graduated high school, she’d finally been able to give in to the wanderlust bug. She’d left Los Angeles, her mother and friends, and had gone to work as an expedition guide.
Keith’s guide. Ten years her senior, he’d been gorgeously worldly, and of course, sexy as hell. All that long, hot summer, she’d worked for Outdoor Adventures, guiding hiking trips through the Sierras, teaching people about the outdoors by day, and by night…well, Keith had certainly taught her plenty by night, every night.
Until she’d moved on to her next adventure, and left him and all the memories behind.
But not too far behind, given the odd ping low in her belly just from listening to his voice. “I saw your ad in the paper,” she said.
“And I saw you, not in the want ads though, but the front page. You had quite a fall.”
After all these months, she still flinched. She hated that her mistake, her failure, had been so public. “Yeah.”
“You broke your back. You…you’re in a wheelchair now, yes?”
“No.”
“But the article said you weren’t expected to walk again, that—”
“I’m fine now.” If fine meant a stupid limp and some serious lingering aches and pains that made her feel like an old lady all the time.
“But not fine enough to fight fires?”
“And to think, once upon a time, I loved your characteristically blunt manner.”
“Yeah, I guess I haven’t changed much.” There was a smile in his voice. “So you want to trek again? But…”
“I know I can do it.” Okay, that was a little white lie. She knew no such thing. What she did know was that once upon a time, she’d been the fittest of the fit, and strong as hell. Her body had never failed her.
Until she’d failed it.
“Just try me,” she said, hating the desperation she could hear in her voice. Please just try me. She needed this, needed to be outside, needed to feel strong enough for something.
“You always were a great guide,” Keith admitted. “I guess, if you’re serious, I have a camping trek next week in the Sierras. It’s high-altitude though,” he warned. “And high summer. It’s also seven to ten miles of walking for four days running.”
“I can do it,” she said quickly, even as she paled at the thought of pushing her body that hard.
“Well, once upon a time no one knew that area better than you,” he admitted. “Should be right up your alley. Pre-trip meeting is in three days, my offices.”
She smiled, and that alone felt…amazing. She would do this, and she’d feel worthwhile again, alive. “I’ll be there.”
“I guess a trip like this will be good for you, huh?”
Good for her? Probably not.
But something to do, a direction to go in?
God, she hoped so.
OUTDOOR ADVENTURE’S offices were located in a large but old art deco building right on the bay. Twice she drove by looking for a parking spot. There wasn’t one. There was never a parking spot in San Francisco, anywhere.
She glanced at the magazine on the seat next to her— the one with the Adrenaline-Rush article, which she’d bought for herself to keep staring at.
Risk.
Yeah. She was risking, all right.
Just then a parking spot opened up right in front of Keith’s building. It was a sign, she thought, a sign that she was doing the right thing, and she put on her blinker and—
And nearly crashed into a brand-new Lexus, whose driver was going for the spot at the same time.
Her truck a mere inch from his, he looked at her through his designer sunglasses.
Oh, no you don’t, she thought, and pointed to the spot and then to herself. Mine.
Lifting a brow, he cocked his head, as if not used to being told no.
Well, she had plenty of nos for him, but then he did something she didn’t expect. He waved her into the spot.
Go ahead, he mouthed, his glasses slipping down his nose. Pushing them up, he again waved her forward. Take it.
Huh. Go figure. He wasn’t a jerk. She watched as he put his car in Reverse, giving her room to take the spot.
Still dazed by this, she pulled in. By the time she got out of her car, he was gone, probably having to drive to Seattle to get his own spot.
That’s when she looked up and saw it. The handicap tag she’d been given after her injury, hanging off her rearview mirror. The tag she hadn’t used in months but had never removed.
He’d given her the spot out of pity.
Well damn if she didn’t hate that all the way down to her toes and back, where it settled into her gut like a slow burn. She didn’t need the charity spot, damn it. Yanking the sign down, she stuffed it beneath her seat. Uncomfortably unsettled, she got out of her truck, refusing to admit to the shooting pain in her legs, the one she always got when she first stood up.
She ignored it. Her doctor had said she was healed enough to walk from here to the ends of the earth, which she’d taken to mean she could certainly lead others there, or anywhere else she chose.
Shooting pain or not.
The San Francisco night was cool for July. Summer still hadn’t really kicked into gear yet, and as usual, probably wouldn’t until it was nearly over. Didn’t matter. She loved the misty air, the salty breeze, but it was time to get back to the mountains.
Yeah, if you can really actually do this …
Swallowing the doubts, she moved up the steps. Ahead of her was a man, tall and lanky, with short dark hair, dressed in clean, neat lines that would have looked just right on the pages of a glossy men’s magazine. He held some sort of digital device in his hand, an earphone in his left ear, and was typing something at the speed of light with only his thumb as he walked and talked to himself.
No, wait. He wasn’t talking. He was singing. Singing badly off-key to…she couldn’t hear whatever it was he heard through his earpiece, but she caught his words. He was definitely screwing up a good U2 song.
He slid the Sidekick in his back pocket, the display still lit up, suggesting he had incoming messages and/or a phone call, all of which he ignored
