Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 74968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
The dirt road narrowed the farther north I ventured, eventually becoming less road and more trail.
“Maverick, you weren’t kidding about a hike,” I muttered as the sun beat down on me. According to my phone’s fitness app, I was only about a mile in, but the dry, dusty heat and climb made the journey seem that much longer. I even had to scramble over large rocks at several points, leaving my hands and jeans streaked with reddish dirt. “Are we there yet?”
There was no one to hear my complaint, but right as I was about to give up, the trail curved, and I discovered a perfectly lovely pond. I had to navigate a short descent down to the pond, which was rimmed by more of the giant golden reddish rocks, along with a grove of scrubby trees and plants. A large evergreen tree provided a little shade for me to have my snack and change—
“Oh, Adler, you idiot!” I slapped my head. I’d packed water, snacks, and sunscreen, but no swim trunks. No way was I turning around and trudging back to the ranch house, not when the pond was right here, water beckoning like a perfect piece of greenish-blue glass. While I ate my snack, I debated the merits of skinny dipping. No one was around to see, not even the cows. At least I’d packed sunscreen, which I applied liberally after stripping off my jeans and shirt. I left my clothes in a heap on top of the pricey hiking boots I’d bought before leaving LA.
Resolved to enjoy my naked swim, I waded into the water and promptly yelped at the cold. Good thing no one was around to see me hop from foot to foot, trying to get used to the cold. Certain parts of my anatomy beat a hasty retreat from the chilly water. I was used to perfectly regulated hotel and apartment complex pools, not this slice of nature with bracing water, rocks, and squishy dirt underfoot.
God, please don’t let the snakes Maverick mentioned be the kind that live in or near water.
However, gradually, I got used to the water enough to walk toward the deeper center of the pond. My feet weren’t sure what to make of the rocky bottom, but my muscle memory for what to do in water was strong. I’d grown up wading and swimming in the ocean during the summers in New Jersey, and one of the few things my parents had done right was swimming lessons for all of us. Feeling bolder, I swam around, finding the edges of the deeper parts of the pond before settling into a nice float in the center, eyes closed, body at perfect relaxation, whirring brain finally as quiet as the surrounding trees.
“What in tarnation are you doing?”
And then I nearly drowned, flailing out of my float at the sound of Foreman Foxy’s western twang ringing out across the pond.
“You’ve never seen someone swim before?” I surfaced, feet landing not in the deep end but a shallower section that made it very clear as soon as I stood that I wasn’t wearing a swimsuit. I quickly ducked back under the water. “Maverick said it was okay to come up here.”
“Of course he did,” Grayson muttered from the bank of the pond. He stood next to my pile of clothes, holding a small towel. “Nice to see you making yourself at home here.”
His tone said otherwise, but I was less concerned with the snark and more with the towel in his hand and his half-unbuttoned shirt. No swimsuit in sight for him either. Yippy skippy, my lucky day! A thrill raced up my spine.
“Were you going to swim?” I called out, making an inviting gesture with my hand. “You should join me. You look hot.”
Of course, to my thinking, Grayson Campbell pretty much always looked hot, all those muscles and tats and his scary-serious expression. But today, he also looked literally hot—sweat clinging to his face and neck, damp spots on his shirt.
“That’s all right. You have your fun.” Grayson backed away from the pond, pausing to add, “Careful of that pale skin of yours though. You don’t want to burn.”
He’d noticed my skin. I resisted the urge to preen.
“Sunscreen. Everywhere.” I made a show of swimming farther out and turning away. “See? I’m not looking. You can get in the water and protect your modesty, cowboy.”
“I’m not…” Grayson trailed off with a frustrated noise.
“Unless you’re chicken?” I whirled back around in the water. I had enough siblings to know the power of a well-placed dare. “Is that it? Can’t skinny dip with the openly queer dude?”
“Okay, okay.” Predictably, Grayson gave in and unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way. I took a nice, long look at his muscled and hairy chest before spinning back around.