I cross my arms and stare at him in disbelief. “You mean to tell me you’d stay knowing that I’m robbing you blind?” How ignorant of a man can he be? The appeal is starting to wear off.
“You wouldn’t be robbing me blind if I handed it to you.”
“That’s beside the point.” Irritation spikes and his smile drops.
“Calm down, Whiskey. I’m messing with you. It’s obvious you aren’t a thief. Or, at the very least, not a good one. Every time I see you, you’re doing different jobs.”
I shrug, heading to the Jeep. “Variety is the spice of life.” With a quick glance over my shoulder, I make sure he’s following me.
“Spice is one of my favorite flavors,” he rumbles, licking his bottom lip.
I’m sure it is. But I am not one of those spices.
The Jeep squeaks as I pull myself up into the open vehicle. He slides into the passenger side, tossing his bag in the back.
“Seems you’re a jack of all trades.” Why is he calling me Jack? My brows furrow in confusion and I blink several times. “It’s a saying that you do a lot of things,” he clarifies.
“Do all men named Jack do many things?”
He lets out a heady laugh. “I’m assuming no. I have no idea why they use the name Jack.”
“Do you use sayings that you don’t understand often?” He runs his hand through his hair and avoids my glances. I cringe. Why can’t I think before I talk sometimes? “I’m sorry. That wasn’t meant to be rude.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m just not used to being questioned on American day-to-day expressions.”
When I peek over, he dominates the space in the Jeep. Everything about him is large, even his presence. He flips his hat backward, and rests one of his hands on his leg, the other, out the window. Everything about him exudes sexual energy.
My hand slips from the top of the steering wheel and lands on the horn. I jump and look forward, searching for who honked at me. Wait, that was me. My cheeks burn as Ryker laughs out loud. I groan in embarrassment and fiddle with the keys to start the engine. He flusters me just being around him.
And the day hasn’t even started yet.
Chapter Six
Aspen
“Are you sure this is a trail?” He shuffles his feet in the heavy undergrowth and steps over rocks. There’s a path under there somewhere. The locals would rather not have foreigners find it so they keep it in its natural state.
“You said you wanted an adventure. This is about as adventurous as you will get out here.” He’s physically fit enough for the climb. It’s a demanding trail, though. “But it’s not for the weak.”
“I’m good at challenges.”
Is that why he hired me? Does he see me as a challenge?
At the entrance, I step on a rock so I can stare him dead in the eyes. “Are you a stubborn man?”
He’s amused by my place on the rock. “More like determined.”
“Stubborn it is,” I retort. His smile deepens with laughter. It dies down when he figures out I’m being serious. “Listen, Ryker, you have to be careful. Watch where I place my feet and hands. Don’t go all rogue thinking you’ve got this… because you don’t.”
He tips his head back at my harsh words. “You do wonders for one’s confidence.”
“Just follow my lead.” Most locals stopped offering this tour because of how difficult it is. But I love this climb. The summit is the top of my world, it’s the place I go to fantasize about what’s past the infinite water—the world my father hates. I shake the thunderous thoughts away. Those are his views. I want to form my own opinion someday.
As I lead Ryker up the steep trail, I peek back frequently to make sure he’s following. My heart sinks when his hand slips on a wet branch, but he catches himself on the branch below.
“Good?”
A smug smile rests on his lips. “You’re very distracting.”
“Me?” I rest on a steady rock protruding out of the mountain. He steps next to me on the narrow rock. Our sweaty bodies are centimeters from each other. Both our grips on surrounding trees. Why did I stop right here? A quick climb from here is a resting spot. With plenty of room.
“I’m supposed to watch every step you take, but I can’t stop staring at your gorgeous ass.”
I gasp, surprised by his confession. And then irritation sets in. “Ryker, you’re supposed to be paying attention.”
“Whiskey, there is nothing I’m paying attention to more than your ass. You have a great ass, by the way.”
Rolling my eyes, and without thinking, I give him a slight shove on the shoulder.
“Merde!” My voice gets lost behind the lump of panic lodged in my throat as I frantically grip his shirt. He teeters backward, losing his balance, and reaches for another branch to catch himself. He slams into the side of the mountain, grunting. “I’m so sorry.”
“Damn, woman, I’m not groping your ass. No need to kill me.”
When I’m certain he’s back on solid ground, or rather, safely on my rock, I release his shirt and busy my hands with the dangling rope resting between us. We use it to continue the climb. My face burns with embarrassment and I focus on the rope. Here I was lecturing him to be careful and I practically knock him down the mountain.
“Well…” I fist the first knot in the rope, needing to put distance between us as quick as possible. “… just pay attention,” I blurt out awkwardly. He agrees with a wide toothy grin and we’re back to square one.
“To my hands, Ryker. My. Hands.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Do you ever feel trapped?” he asks mindlessly, staring out as far as the eyes can see, lost in his own thoughts. At the top of Mount Pahia Summit, we’re relaxing from our two-hour climb. We’re so high up, a sense of freedom lives in the air, as if we were birds relaxing our wings from our journey. But Ryker’s words remind me I’m not free at all.
I roll my head to face him, wondering why a guy like him feels trapped. He has money, looks, and the freedom to go anywhere. “You’re kidding, right?” Crossing my feet, I continue. “If you were to drive eighteen miles, would you hit the end of your world?”
His eyes soften, and I regret my words. I don’t want his sympathy. “Whiskey, what’s your story?”
I sigh. “You’re assuming I have one.”
“Everyone has a story. What do you do every day? What brought you here? Do you ever plan on leaving? Do you have a boyfriend?”
“You jumped right into the personal stuff, didn’t you?” Moisture clings to his forehead. He pulls out a water bottle from his backpack, taking a long gulp then emptying the rest over his head. “You’re paying a lot of money to learn about the island girl. How about we head down and I’ll take you to the next spot?” I pop up, dusting the dirt off my shorts, but he stays put, staring up at me behind his sunglasses. I can’t help that my eyes travel down his bare chest, sweat and water glistening all the way down over the muscular ridges in his stomach, right to…