Page 41 of The Hang Up
She got the sense he was used to getting his way.
Besides, this seemed less awkward than pillow talk and a sleepover. While she might have planned for the possibility of a hookup, she definitely wasn’t ready for anything that smacked of relationships or commitment. Or fine, maybe commitment wasn’t the issue. Maybe it was the idea of committing to someone whose notion of a good time involved an ice ax and crampons.
That’s not his only notion of a good time…
Her cheeks flushed with heat as she finished scrubbing the cast-iron skillet she’d been washing and handed it to him. “So do you feel more ready for Saturday night’s dinner?”
He grabbed the skillet like it weighed next to nothing, even though it was heavy enough that Miriam needed both hands to lift it. He gave her a knowing grin, probably wondering why she’d made such an abrupt shift from flirty banter to business mode.
But Miriam knew why. She had to set some boundaries, dammit. To let him know this was fun and fabulous, but also very, very casual. That was the only way to do this without risking her heart.
“I feel great,” he said, and the gravelly undertone in his voice made her cheeks warm up. “About the dinner,” he added. “I feel great about my preparation for the dinner.”
“Of course. I knew that’s what you meant.”
“I feel great about other things, too.” He grinned and set the skillet aside, then reached for the serving platter she handed him. “You certainly showed me some things I’d never seen before.”
“Likewise.” She smiled in spite of herself as she remembered what he’d done with his thumb and— “The hiccup cures,” she blurted. “That was new to me.”
Jason gave her a knowing grin, but nodded. “And the stuff about napkin placement and silverware—that was new to me.”
She looked down into the sink full of soapy water and began scrubbing the little copper saucepan she used for melting butter. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can help with.” She paused, moving more delicately as she washed the blade of her mandoline. “You never mentioned what time the dinner event starts. Is it early or late?”
“I think it’s at six thirty on Saturday evening, which is kind of a pain.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, since it’s a three-day weekend, I was hoping to head over to the Cascades to climb Three Fingered Jack,” he said.
A rush of ice sluiced through Miriam’s veins. She kept her eyes on the spoon she was scrubbing, not trusting herself to look up. “Okay,” she said, though it came out more like a squeak than an affirmation.
“I planned to drive over Thursday evening to set up base camp at the bottom of the mountain, but Ellie has this support group she goes to for parents of kids with cancer,” he continued, blessedly oblivious to Miriam’s discomfort. “His oncologist offered to hook us up with a babysitter who’s a nurse. Someone who knows all about kids in remission and that sort of thing.”
“That’s great!” Miriam said, doing her best to focus on Henry instead of her fears about Jason’s climb. “It must be a relief to have someone you can trust.”
“That’s just it. I don’t. I don’t trust anyone with Henry. Even though it’s only for an hour. Even though Ellie insists it would be totally fine.”
“Oh.” Miriam frowned, trying to understand. “So Henry’s doctor thinks it’s okay to leave him with this nurse for an hour, and his mother thinks it’s okay?—”
“It’s not okay.” The vehemence in his voice told Miriam the topic was off-limits for discussion, so she shut up and kept scrubbing.
“Anyway, I’m staying here with Henry,” Jason said. “Which means I can’t take off until Friday morning, which means I’ll get a later start than I wanted on the climb.”
Miriam didn’t say anything. Several long seconds passed before she realized she’d been washing the same spoon for at least three minutes. She rinsed it off and handed it to him. “Three Fingered Jack,” she said, trying to keep her voice even, though she could feel her hands starting to shake. She plunged them back into the soapy water, determined not to make a big deal of this. “Didn’t I see a headline about a guy falling to his death there just a couple weeks ago?”
“Yeah. It was on the descent about a hundred feet from the summit. He wasn’t roped in.”
“Oh.” She bit her lip. “But you’ll be roped in?”
“At that spot we will be. Plus my climbing buddy and I are doing the south route, which is a little safer.”
“I see.” She wished she could find the words reassuring, but instead she just felt cold. She could feel Jason watching her, but opted to keep her eyes on the sink full of dishes, on the nest of silverware glittering beneath the suds.
“The sad thing about that climber a few weeks ago is that he bonked right after he summited,” Jason said.
Miriam frowned. “Bonked?” The term sounded familiar from her father’s years as a climber, but she couldn’t recall what it meant.
“It’s where body systems shut down due to dehydration or a lack of nutrients or altitude or some other factor. With the muscle-glycogen bonk, the brain works fine but the legs stop working. Or the blood-glucose bonk, where the brain is the thing that shuts down.”
