Page 13 of Out on a Limb

“What are you doing today?” Jana asks before glancing away. Turns out that despite all her prickliness and bravado, despite threatening to beat me with that lamp, my wife-to-be is kinda shy, preferring to fiddle with her shirt hem than meet my eye. “Adventurer things, I guess.”

“Yup.” Guilty as charged. My fingers drum against my chair’s wooden armrest, as I stare at Jana and silently will her to look back. All I want is her gaze on me and her full, undivided attention; to topple into those doe eyes and keep falling forever. “Need to write up a bunch of articles. Send emails to sponsors. Edit photos and footage. All that bullshit, really.”

There.

Jana glances at me, amused, and the sensation of her honey-brown eyes meeting mine—it’s like a shudder of pleasure down my spine. I grip the armrest so hard the wood creaks.

Then she sips her coffee and looks away, and I melt back against the chair. Can finally breathe again, though I’m winded. Fuck, what is this woman doing to me?

Not for the first time, my nerves prickle with warning beneath my skin. It’s a dangerous game I’m playing here with Jana Kumara, and something tells me there’s more than my pride on the line.

Yes, I want her badly, but did I have to raise the stakes so sky-high when we’d barely even met? What if I ruin this? What if I make this big bet, then walk away with nothing?

Couldn’t I just be normal about this one thing? Not every part of life needs to be an adrenaline sport, damn it. Especially wooing the first woman I’ve ever really wanted.

“People have been asking me about the ring.” Jana blushes as she speaks, watching that magpie like her life depends on it. Suddenly self-conscious, the magpie flaps away and Jana frowns after it, looking betrayed.

“Oh yeah?” My heart thumps slow but hard in my chest. “What did you tell them?”

“That it’s yours.” Jana huffs and finally looks at me square on, meeting my gaze for the second time. There she is: the firecracker who flung an alarm clock at my head. I grin wide, and she rolls her eyes but her lips twitch too. “That we’re engaged. So, you know. The cat is officially out of the bag.”

“And good riddance.” I set my empty mug down, feeling lighter than I have in days—because Jana really meant it. She’s going through with this deal, telling everyone we’re engaged. “Mangy cat.”

Jana’s lips press together. Her confession is quiet. “I don’t like lying to people, Stig.”

I shrug, and school my voice to sound more casual than I feel. “So we’ll just have to follow through, then. Make it true.”

And Christ, I knew this plan was insane from the jump, but hearing it out loud, telling the folks in town, seeing that sapphire sparkling on Jana’s finger…

It’s all getting very real.

We’re approaching the point of no return, and it leaves a familiar swooping sensation in my gut. Like approaching the top of a waterfall in my kayak, flexing my fingers on my paddle and sending up a silent prayer as I drift along the current, cold mist clinging to my beard and sweat trickling in my eyes.

Alive. So alive.

No turning back now.

Eight

Jana

Flint’s is packed full and rowdy, with the doors to the yard flung open and stars glittering in the night sky outside. Groups of hikers and bikers cluster around the wooden tables in the yard, slamming glasses down and laughing raucously. Inside is no better, with every booth and table crammed with people, and barely any room to squeeze past on our way to the stockroom.

Table service is a no go. Not when the crowd is packed so tight there’s barely room to breathe, and the noise is so loud you need to shout to be heard. No, Tess and I stay firmly behind the bar, sheltering in our pocket of personal space, serving drinks as fast as our bodies can move.

Periodically, Flint comes out of his office and slides behind the bar to help, glaring at the rowdiest drinkers. Once they settle down again, Flint pats us on the shoulder and stomps back to his office to wrangle numbers or whatever else he does in there.

There’s a radio wedged beneath the bar, next to a can of pepper spray, so we can call the boss for help if things get out of hand. Normally, that radio lies there for months, untouched and gathering dust, but tonight…

Yeah, tonight we might be calling for backup.

Something’s in the air. Maybe it’s the huge moon outside, pockmarked and hanging low above the treeline, or maybe it’s the pent-up frustration of waving goodbye to summer. Already, half the trees on the mountainside have turned russet and gold. The seasons turn quick in this part of the world, and before long the branches will be bare, our breaths will form little puffs of cloud, and the long, dark evenings will draw in and trap us inside with our thoughts.

Not yet, though. Not tonight. Tonight, the locals and tourists of Starlight Ridge are out in full force, gossiping and cracking jokes and stumbling from too much drink, nearly missing the bar with their glasses. Meanwhile, Tess and I are flushed from working so hard in this hot, crowded bar, as sweat slides down my spine beneath my polo shirt.

I’m gross. No two ways about it. Sweaty and rumpled and splashed head-to-toe in one sticky liquor or another. All I can think is thank god Stig will be asleep by the time I get back tonight, because one look at me like this and he’d slide that ring straight back off my finger.

God, please let me sneak a shower. Don’t let him smell the stickiness and sweat on my skin.

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