Page 110 of Valley Girls
“Is that what this is?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. It could be bias. Or not.”
She frowned, not feeling any better for the conversation. “Can I see what you’re drawing?”
“No,” he said immediately.
“Please? Is it me? Let me see.” She tried to sit up and look.
“It’s not you.” He clutched the notebook to his chest. “Go away.”
She made a face. “Please?”
“It’s an infographic.”
“A what?”
He rolled his eyes. “You know, like an illustration demonstrating how to do something?”
“What are you demonstrating?” She gave him an exaggerated wink. “Ooh ...”
“Don’t tell anyone I showed you.” He handed her the notebook.
Settling the leather binding in her lap, she carefully opened the cream pages. A smile split her face. “Walker! It’s so good. And so interesting!” The panels showed setting up a high-line for high-angle rescues. “I guess if you aren’t drawing me, this is acceptable. Why don’t you want people to see?”
“I just don’t like people knowing.”
“Well.” She fought the urge to turn all the pages, and handed the book back. “You’re very good.”
He shrugged and tossed the book to the picnic table. Sliding his hand up her leg, he gripped the back of her calf. “Ugh, it’s hot.”
They were surrounded by people, in the afternoon light, in a Valley bursting at the seams with tourists. Walker tipped his mouth up, eyes sparkling. “Want to go for a swim?”
She grinned and swung her legs over the side of the hammock. “Let’s go.”
They crossed the road and ducked into the woods, tramping through the pine needles to come out onto the sandy bank of the Merced. The river glimmered cool and clear in the afternoon sunshine, and the air smelled like dry, warm pine. Despite the busyness of the Valley, they found the river mostly quiet and only a few visitors with small children farther up where it was shallow.
“I needed a shower anyway,” Walker said, pulling off his T-shirt and hat, and dropping them on a fallen tree along the water’s edge. They were shaded from the brutal afternoon sun, but the river was bright from the sun coming through the pines and reflecting off the granite rising above them on all sides.
“That’s disgusting,” Rilla said, adding her T-shirt to the log. “Rivers don’t count as a shower. Only pools.”
“I like your tan lines,” Walker said with a chuckle, gaze flickering across her neck and shoulders.
She stuck her tongue out. “You’re mean.” Between running and climbing and spending most of her days outside, no matter how much sunscreen she put on, she had a deep tan and a crisscross of sport bra tan lines.
“No, I’m serious,” he said. “They’re hot.”
She rolled her eyes and waded in. The water was crisp and cold, soothing her aching feet.
“Ah,” Walker breathed, walking straight into the current. The muscles in his back and sides rippled under his tanned skin and the water licked up his torso.
Rilla stood ankle deep, motionless, and her mouth was suddenly dry.
He put his hands together above his head and made a shallow dive into the darkest part of the pool, disappearing under the water.
This was a dream. This couldn’t possibly be real. Rilla blinked rapidly and sucked in a deep breath of the dry hot air.Holy shit. This was her life.
Walker resurfaced downstream, shaking the water from his face before he looked back at her. “Come on,” he called. “It feels good.”
