Page 73 of Down Shift (Driven 8)
“Yeah. Oh,” he repeats as again I’m left wordless. “And we’re here because we needed to talk and I couldn’t talk there at the house where there were so many convenient places to lay you down.”
My breath comes faster and my mouth is suddenly dry as he does just what I’d asked, lays it all out on the table. I wish he’d lay me out on the table. I fight the smile, the giddy feeling fluttering through me at being wanted and desired running right beside the lust that’s slowly consuming my thoughts.
“And road trips cure that?” I ask coyly, my confidence resurfacing suddenly now that I feel like the power has shifted and it’s a more even playing field.
“I thought it would,” he says as he abruptly moves the table between us to the left and then reaches out to my chair, scooting it so that my knees fit between his. I let out a yelp of surprise at the unexpected action, but before I can catch my breath, his face is inches from mine, both hands on my thighs, and his eyes darkening with lust.
“And?” I whisper.
“I was wrong.” His kiss is soft and gentle, but I can sense the violent edge of desire just beneath his quiet control. I close my eyes and allow myself to fall into the kiss—the taste of coffee on his lips, the scrape of stubble against my skin, the sounds of the forest all around us—and realize that he ran off this morning because he’s fighting the pull that’s already reeled me in and taken hold of me.
I may not have a lot of experience with men, but after watching Ethan constantly for so many years, I’m observant enough to see a man wading into waters he deems treacherous.
The damn white squall.
He breaks our kiss with a laugh, rests his forehead against mine, and just breathes me in.
“So, boundaries, huh?” I feel his mouth curve into a smile against mine. “How’s that working for you?”
He throws his head back, his laugh deeper and richer this time, and I feel a tad more settled after this awkward dance of trying to downplay and yet own the attraction between us.
“You’re a little—”
“We’re ready for you,” a voice booms from the doorway, shocking us apart and drawing my attention over to a burly-ish guy. I take in his plaid shirt, worn jeans, and full beard before it registers that he’s speaking to Zander and me.
“Hey, Russ.” Zander stands up with my hand in his, prompting me to rise too. “Perfect timing.”
“Not from what I can tell,” he says with a resonating chuckle before turning his back and disappearing into the stairwell.
“C’mon,” Zander says with a secretive smirk and a spark in his eyes that leaves me more than curious about what he and this mysterious mountain man are talking about.
“What’s going—”
Zander turns around and places a finger to my lips to quiet me. “No questions, Socks. You can thank me later.” He continues up the flight of stairs with a visible bounce to his step.
When we clear the landing, “No way in hell” falls from my mouth, my legs already retreating the way we came as I take in what’s before me. But Zander’s prepared and grabs my hand to keep me on the platform of sorts.
And even though I’m physically struggling against him, my mind rejecting what the contraption and the gear around me are used for, it’s his laugh that echoes the loudest in my mind. Carefree. Excited. Daring.
“You’ve taken scarier leaps before. This is a piece of cake.” The words knock the fight out of me. His even, encouraging tone telling me he’s referring to how I came to be in PineRidge.
With his hands firm on my arms, pinning them to my sides so I can’t back away, I take in everything around me. The thick metal cables and pulley system disappearing into the distance. The two harnesses laid out on the wood planking of the patio. The helmets next to them. The gap in the railing with the plank that extends beyond it.
How in the hell did I not notice the zip line overhead when I was down below? I was obviously so mesmerized with the incredible view and the unsettled feeling between Zander and me that I overlooked it.
“Getty.” Zander’s voice pulls me back. “You’ve jumped before. This time, though, you’ll have a rope and a harness.” He nods his head, eyes steadfast on mine.
“But . . . I . . .” Thoughts. Fears. Heights. The last of which causes a bone-deep terror at the idea of jumping headfirst into midair attached only by a cable to prevent me from plummeting to my death. “I can’t . . . I just.” My eyes blink rapidly as I’m trying to process this, when his hands move from my arms to my cheeks.
“You can.” He bends his knees so we are at eye level, equals, and continues. “I came here needing one of the constants in my life: adrenaline. Something to ground me and clear my head, because it’s getting all muddled up. And you? You’ve left your old life behind, leapt without looking, and I think before you face your father tonight, you need something to ground you too. Something to remind you that you did this on your own, started a new life, your way, and that you’re not the woman your father or Ethan thought you were. You’re strong. And beautiful. And brave. Maybe doing this will help you see it.”
Tears blur my vision. My lower lip quivers. His words take root in my soul and wrap around my healing heart. And as much as I want to reject what he says, all of it, I also hear every single word.
“No regrets,” he whispers.
The nervous smile that slowly spre
ads on my lips is mirrored on his. I subtly nod my head, not wanting to agree with him but realizing I want to live this new life without regrets just like he does. I want to be spontaneous and push past my comfort level and own my fears. And he’s completely right—what better time to prove it to myself than right here, right now, the day I have to face everything I never want to be again?
