Chapter 8: Chapter Eight

LOGAN

Rae practically dives out of my car when we arrive at the Living Room trailhead. She seemed excited at the office, and she was even a little flirty over text, but in the car, she clammed up.

I wonder if she was in a traumatic accident or lost someone in a car crash.

She pulls her long hair into a ponytail, using the side view mirror to style it. The way it cascades down her shoulders and brushes up against her neck… ~Damn~. Since when does ~hair~ turn me on?

“So, I’m, like, ~really~ not athletic,” she says, biting her lip.

“Consider me a no-judgment zone,” I joke.

A smile overtakes her face. She honestly looks like she’s on top of the world. All because I said I won’t judge her? I wish I were so easily excited.

“Phew.” She pretends to wipe sweat off her forehead. “So, you won’t think I’m lazy and out-of-shape if I have to take the occasional break?”

I eye her petite frame. Out-of-shape? No fucking chance.

Her cheeks go pink, and I realize I’m checking her out. ~Get your shit together, Logan. Jesus~. “Not at all,” I finally reply, and her smile widens, which I wouldn’t have even thought possible.

I reach out my hand, and she timidly laces her fingers through mine, as though she’s unsure if that’s what I want.

I make a mental note to be as direct as possible with Rae. She seems like the type of person who second-guesses everything.

“Ooh, this isn’t steep at all!” she exclaims.

“Yeah, it’s not bad.”

Her happiness is contagious. I feel like I’m grinning like a moron, but Rae is emanating so much joy I can’t help myself, and something tells me she won’t think less of me for my goofy smile.

“You’ve never been here before?” I ask. I’m pretty sure every Salt Lake County resident has hiked the Living Room at one point or another.

To my surprise, she lets out a loud (for Rae), exaggerated laugh. “No. I’m not very outdoorsy. Or exercise-y. Is that a word?”

~Exercise-y~. God, she’s perfect. “It should be a word if it’s not. I used to come here with my mom when I was a kid.” ~And Zach~. Zach came too, but I don’t want to talk about him today.

The weird thing is, I feel like I could with Rae. I don’t think she’d say anything insensitive the way most people do.

When your brother dies from alcohol poisoning his first night away at college, the standard ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ condolences are replaced by judgmental remarks, but I can’t imagine anything of the sort coming from her.

Still, this isn’t the time. I don’t want to see that beautiful smile falter.

“That sounds fun. It’s beautiful,” she replies, fiddling with her necklace with her free hand.

I’ve noticed she does that when she’s nervous. She was practically tying it in a knot during the executive meeting this morning. I can’t figure out why, for the life of me, she’s anxious right now, though.

Maybe she’s concerned she’s not fit enough for the walk? It’s not very strenuous, and she seemed comfortable with the trail just a few minutes ago.

“How was your first day at Quincy?” I ask. Half a second later, dread fills my core. ~What the fuck, Logan~? She cried in my office today.

By some miracle, her eyes light up again.

“I really like it. I’ve never done a social media assignment before, so I’m learning a ton, especially when it comes to branding. It’s a little…yeah, no, it’s great. Yeah, I think the campaign will be really good for recruitment.”

Dare I ask what she meant by “it’s a little”? I’m dying to know, but asking Rae will definitely make her uncomfortable. I store it away in the bank of questions to ask another day. “What got you into photography?” I ask instead.

I expect my question to light up her face, but she bites her lip and furrows her brows in concentration, as if she’s looking for the best way to phrase her answer.

I wish she’d feel safe telling me what’s on her mind. Maybe if I share more about myself… I hate doing that, but I’m being kind of a hypocrite, wanting Rae to open up when I’m not.

“~Hmm~. That’s a good question. I guess I just enjoy capturing a moment in time. Memorializing something that might be looked past or forgotten or never be seen in the first place, if that makes sense.”

I nod as she continues, “Photography is kind of like a puzzle.

“Choosing the right angle and shutter speed and all that to get the perfect shot. It takes a lot more problem-solving—no, that’s not the right word, more like analytical thinking, I guess—than you would think.”

“I’ve never thought about photography that way,” I muse. “I like that. Memorializing a moment.”

She grins. “I should have brought my camera here. I’m not that experienced with wildlife photography. I was thinking of taking a class when I have some spare time.”

“Do you ever look through the ~National Geographic~ photos of the year? I love those.”

“Oh, yeah. I love them too. Those photographers are amazing. I can’t imagine hiding in a tree trying to get a picture of something that might eat me,” she giggles.

“No safari photography for you, then?” I tease.

“No way,” she shakes her head dramatically. “What made you interested in venture capital? Investing? Sorry. I don’t know much about finance. Don’t fire me, please.”

I can’t help but crack up. “I promise I won’t fire you,” I say once I catch my breath.

“I was never interested in finance, to be honest. It’s the family business, so I was just expected to get a job there when I graduated college.”

“Oh,” she bites her lip, clearly wrestling with something in her mind.

“Nothing against your family—your dad seems great and really good at what he does—but, uh, that’s too bad. That they didn’t want you to do something else.”

She inhales deeply and exhales slowly, calming herself down. “Please don’t take that the wrong way.”

I shake my head. “No, I completely agree. I wish more people saw it the way you do.”

Her perfect smile returns. No teeth this time, but her pink lips are curved up in a way that just screams happiness. Temporary happiness. “What would you do if you didn’t work for Quincy Ventures, do you think?”

No one’s ever asked me that before. I love that she’s so…interested. That she genuinely cares what my answers are. That she wants to see ~me~. Fuck.

I just met this woman. I haven’t even kissed her yet, and I’m ruminating over what I love about her.

“I’d go to culinary school,” I say without thinking. I’ve never told anyone that before.

“You should,” she replies. “I bet there are schools that do night classes.”

I wonder what Dad would say if I were to enroll in a culinary program. I imagine leaving a client dinner, apologizing, and saying that I need to get to class.

I doubt he’d even approve of an MBA. Learning to be a chef? Not so much.

“I didn’t mean that in a pressuring way,” Rae adds, blushing.

I must have remained quiet for too long, making Rae assume I dislike her suggestion. ~Fuck~. I need to start replying faster. I’ve never been around such a sensitive person.

“I was thinking about what my dad would say if I started doing night classes,” I tell her.

With anyone else, I’d make something up about zoning out, but I get the impression Rae would be offended if she thought I wasn’t paying attention to her.

“What would he say?”

She’s so fucking perfect. Everyone else in my life would ask why I care, and that’s not something I want to answer. “He wouldn’t see the point. He wants me to take over the company when he retires.”

“Wow. That’s…wow. Do you want to be the CEO?”

~Ha~. “Not really. He won’t retire for at least another five years, though, so there’s time to change my mind, I guess.”

I can see the wheels whirring in her head. I know what she’s thinking.

Why the fuck does a twenty-eight-year-old CFO care about his father’s opinions, and why does he need to follow in his father’s career footsteps?

I hate those questions. I never have a good answer to them.

“I don’t think I would want to be a CEO,” she says thoughtfully. “That’s a lot of pressure. Long hours too.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “I hate the hours.”

I want to ask her to tell me everything. Every last detail about what makes Rae ~Rae~. She’s by far the most intriguing person I’ve ever met.

She’ll clam up at that request, though. ~Tell me about yourself~. Yeah, that will definitely stress her the fuck out.

I’m trying to figure out how to word the question when she says, grinning, “Maybe the social media campaign will help you hire someone to do the things you don’t like, and then you can leave earlier.”

She’s precious. God, I want this woman. “I think I’d owe you forever,” I laugh.

The faintest hint of a smirk is playing on her lips, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s thinking what I’m thinking. You know, of all the ways I’d love to repay her.

~Shit~. I need to change the subject before I pop a tent. “So, you’ve been with Jade Agency for a year?”

“Yeah, as of a month ago. No, two months ago. Doesn’t matter.” She shakes her head. “I love it. I was worried about getting a job in photography, but it’s worked out, thankfully.”

“What types of clients do you usually get contracted to?”

Her fingers—the ones I’m not still holding like an enamored high schooler—drift from her necklace to the hem of her shirt. “It really depends. I was taking photos around a college campus for my last assignment.

“Usually, we get called in to help when a company or school or someone is redoing their—~ooh~!” Rae stops mid-sentence and mid-stride to gaze at a couple of rotting trees. “I’ll have to come back for this shot.”

I don’t want to burst her bubble, but she’s looking at the ugliest things we’ve seen so far on this hike. “You should see the view at the top.”

~Fifty times better than rotting wood~. “And the entire trail in the winter. It gets slippery, but when everything’s covered with snow, it’s pretty sick.”

“I like the fall,” she sighs. “It’s like nature is resetting.”

I always found the season somewhat depressing. The sun sets earlier, the leaves fall, and the temperature drops, but you can’t go skiing yet. Fall always felt like something to endure, a shitty bridge between summer and winter.

~It’s like nature is resetting~. For someone who gets so tongue-tied, she really is talented at describing the world.

“I’ve never thought of it that way,” I murmur, inching closer to her and hoping my proximity doesn’t make her uncomfortable.

“I like imperfection. I’d rather take a photo of wildflowers growing out of a dead tree than one with all its foliage.” She giggles nervously. “That probably sounds crazy.”

It doesn’t sound crazy. I get it, and I think I get Rae a little bit more too. “I understand that. It has more meaning with its flaws.”

That wide smile pops back up, and she beams up at me. “Exactly. That’s exactly it.”

Her lips are a fucking magnet. I don’t want to make things awkward at the office, but everything in the world is pulling me toward this woman right now.

Her eyes dart back to the trees. “I promise I won’t take any pictures of imperfections at Quincy Ventures. Not that there are any. Oh, my God. Oh, no. I’m sorry. I meant that as a—”

“Rae,” I burst out between chuckles, “that was really fucking funny.” Okay, it wasn’t the funniest, but clearly, she thinks she offended me and needs some reassurance.

I don’t think she believes me. Her bright smile is gone, replaced by a forced expression that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“There are a lot of imperfections at Quincy, so I appreciate your photographic discretion,” I add.

“At your service,” she finally giggles.

The rest of our walk follows the same pattern. We fall into a deep conversation, Rae opens up just a bit, then second-guesses something she says, and goes into panic mode.

I might be imagining it, but after a couple of cycles, I sense the conversations lasting longer and the anxiety shortening.

“You’re very easy to talk to,” she says as we step into my car.

A swell of pride gathers in my chest. I want to be someone she feels comfortable with.

Not just so I can spend more time with her—although I definitely want that—but because her compliment makes me feel like I might actually be a decent person.

“Thanks, Rae. I like talking to you too.”

Her cheeks go pink. “Really?”

“Really.”

I lean in slowly, giving her plenty of time to pull away or reject my kiss. In a few seconds, her lips are touching mine. They’re as soft as they look and even more delicious.

When she runs her fingers up the back of my neck and takes hold of my hair, I have to channel every last drop of my self-restraint to keep from pulling her over the console to straddle me.

I snake my fingers up into the strands beneath her ponytail, prompting her to lean into me and part her lips, inviting me in.

Our tongues dance together for what feels like seconds but must be longer, because when we finally pull apart for air, the sky is a brilliant orange, and the sun is setting.

Rae’s cheeks are flushed, her eyes wide, as if she can’t believe what just happened. Fuck, I’m with her. I’ve never kissed anyone like that before. Not with so much passion.

~Passion~? What the fuck is happening to me?

“We should get out of here before I lock us in this car and call us in sick tomorrow,” I half-joke.

She giggles. “I wouldn’t complain.”