I roll my eyes. “I know now I didn’t, but at the time, I thought I did.”
Sabrina stares at me with a blank look on her face. “That makes no sense.”
“Remember how I told you my Blackberry finally broke? When I went to the store to get a replacement, it wouldn’t even backup anything, but I thought that was okay because I have all the main numbers I need memorized.” I push up from the floor and stretch out my back.
“Okay,” she encourages me to continue.
“So, I programmed in your number when I got home from my date and sent you a message. Turns out, it wasn’t your number.”
Sabrina gets into our first position and holds it for a count of ten. As she exhales slowly, she asks, “So who’s number was it?”
The moment I suck in another breath, I reply, “Some guy named Rigsby.”
Her eyebrows pull together. “That’s a horrible name.”
“His last, he said.”
“That’s hideous. I bet he’s ugly. Probably five foot eight with a potbelly and bad toupee.”
“I don’t think so,” I reply before I can recall the words. After the photo he sent, I’m pretty sure there’s no potbelly. I’m pretty sure there’s not an ounce of fat on him anywhere.
I can feel her eyes on me but refuse to look her way. Instead, I close my eyes and try to concentrate on relaxing, on my poses, and on letting the tension of the day go. Instead, the moment my eyes are closed, I see Rigsby. Well, specifically, I see the image he texted me this morning in his gray sweatpants. It wasn’t a dick pic, but it wasn’t not one either. It was…wow. I don’t know what it is about a pair of well-hung sweatpants that does weird things to female libidos everywhere.
“Why did you just get this weird look on your face?” she whispers.
Opening my eyes, I glance her way. “What look? And why aren’t your eyes closed?”
“You had this look like someone just gave you a double scoop ice cream cone on a hot summer day.”
“You’re dumb,” I tell her, closing my eyes so she can’t tell how right she was.
Sabrina giggles softly. “And you’re into him.”
I huff out another deep breath. “That’s absurd. I don’t even know him.” I change positions with Crystal, trying to ignore the chirping bird at my side.
“No, but you want to,” she singsongs, mirroring my pose and exhaling.
When our class comes to an end, I hop off my mat and roll it up, grabbing my water bottle and bag. “Give me your phone,” Sabrina says.
“Why?”
She rolls her eyes dramatically at me. “I’m going to program in my number—the correct one, silly.” I reach into my bag and pull out my fancy new phone. “Wow, look at you! Stepping into the twenty-first century,” she teases as she taps away at the screen. After only a handful of seconds, she hands it back. “Done.”
I slip it back into my bag. “Thank you.”
“Now, you’ll actually text me and not some strange guy. Unless, that’s your thing now.”
I’m already shaking my head. “No, definitely not. That was a one-time accident.”
She just grins. “We’ll see,” she sings, following me through the front door. “Wanna grab dinner later this week?”
“Sure” I reply, unlocking my car with my fob. “I have a board meeting Thursday night, but am free this weekend.”
Sabrina pulls a face. “Of course you are. Saturday night it is! Maybe, I’ll invite those two guys from the coffee shop down the block to join us,” she says, waggling her eyebrows. “They’re so flirty.”
“Stop. Just us.”
“We’ll see,” she repeats before sliding into her own vehicle and driving away.
I toss my bag into my car and climb in, hating the warmth filtering through the vents instead of cool air. I contemplate stopping for some takeout, but ultimately decide to just head home. A long shower and maybe a southwest chicken salad are what’s in store for me tonight. Plus, reruns of Friends.
As I pull into my short driveway, something at the front door catches my eye. There’s a brown bag there. I climb out and glance around, not really sure what I’m looking for, but when I don’t see anything out of the ordinary, I slowly make my way up my steps. The paper bag is wrinkled and twisted closed at the top. Carefully, I reach down and retrieve it, surprised by how heavy it is. There’s a note on the paper bag, scrolled in penmanship that rivals a physician’s.
So you can take your bra off. Enjoy!
Deciding to go ahead and open it out here, I pull apart the twisted paper and glance inside. A hearty laugh pulls from my chest as I reach in and remove the bottle of liquor. The man from last night. He’s the only one who would have left me this gift.
Smiling, I unlock my door and slip inside, anxious to open my new bottle of tequila.
Chapter Three
Royce
I’m gearing up for the final run down the mountain of the evening. The last group took off about ten minutes ago, which means they should be hitting the second platform now. I make sure my harness is secure and glance over at Charlie, giving him a thumbs-up. He releases the brake and lets me push off the platform. “See you at the bottom,” I holler.
“Later, Rigsby.”
The initial fall is always the best part.
I take in my surroundings, enjoying the hell out of the unobstructed view. The sun is dipping low behind the tree line and the air is starting to cool. It’s a beautiful night, a perfect one for Parkway. Tourists will be out in droves tonight, drinking and hanging. It’s been a few weeks since I hit up that scene, so maybe I’ll head into town tonight after my run, find a new friend to entertain.
When I think of my run, I picture her.
The woman on the porch.
The one I dropped off a bottle of tequila to earlier today. I talked myself out of the gift at least a dozen times, yet for some reason, I couldn’t stop myself from writing a note on the bag and setting it in front of her door. She wasn’t home at the time, but I still felt like there were eyes everywhere. Gatlinburg isn’t exactly small, but we still look out for our own.
When I reach the first landing, I make the adjustments myself, telling the attendant to head on down as soon as I take off. It’s part of our nightly ritual. I always make the final run down the mountain, and as soon as I’m past, the employees shut down their stations and wait for the UTV to pick them up.
I continue down, loving the freedom that comes with ziplining. It was part of the attraction to the company I work for when I moved here. Rueben was doing his internet cyber security stuff, Mom got a job right away at a bakery, and I was on the hunt for the biggest thrill-ride I could find. Elevate was looking for someone with management experience, but settled when they met me. The only experience I had was jumping out of a plane a few times a year in the Army. But they appreciated my passion and drive, and with some proper training, they ended up making me manager of this outfit.
I love it.
As I make the final descent, my mind flips back to the text messages from this morning. The employees are gathering on the ground below me, watching my approach, and I can’t help but wonder if my new texting friend is a fan of thrills. The women I meet in town usually talk a big game about excitement and fun—I mean, most of them are about to embark on some no-strings nookie. The moment I tell them what I do, their eyes light up like firecrackers. There’s just something about my job as a zipline instructor that makes the panties melt away.