Page 9 of Love By a Landslide

“Yeah,” he managed to croak out. “Yes.”

“Tsk, tsk. Forget I said anything.” The older woman gently patted his shoulder. “I’ll switch things around.”

No need. I’ve got this, Janet. It’s just a little rafting trip. Iaman experienced guide, after all.

Jonathan cleared his throat, wishing he could utter the words. Desperate to mean them. “Thank you,” he murmured instead. He’d been stuck in limbo for far too long, balking at the prospect of getting into another raft after . . .

“Here we are,” Janet chirped, forcing a cheery tone. “I can swap you and Francesca. She’s scheduled for the Beckey Route, and you know how she hates the drive out to Liberty Bell. I don’t blame the girl. That five a.m. start is rough.”

Jonathan silently let out a cleansing breath. He could lead that multi-pitch in his sleep. And while he was typically up at dawn, his little sister needed to hit the snooze button four or five times before she convinced herself to roll out of bed each morning.

This will work out better for everyone.

Despite his relief, a niggling sense of dread lingered. How much longer could he go before his aversion became a real problem?

“Almost done, boss?” a deep, raspy voice called from the back door.

“It’s still weird when you call me that,” Jonathan hollered back through the office.

Zac sauntered into the office with his usual unwavering air of confidence despite the angry vermilion wash over his complexion. “Evening, Janet. You’re looking lovely today.”

“And you’re looking positively crispy,” the usually jovial woman retorted, barely glancing up from her work. “Forget the sunscreen again?”

“Bah. Sunscreen’s for the weak.” Zac raked his hands through wavy, chin length hair and winced a little. “I’m working on my base tan.”

Jonathan cackled, grateful for the distraction from his earlier moment of panic. “I assume you climbed shirtless today too.”

“Naturally. Gotta give the people what they want.” He propped a hip on the office manager’s desk, to which Janet gave him a shove.

“You’re on my stack of invoices,” she chastised, unmoved by his charm as usual. Jonathan cringed while the sunburned interloper chuckled, utterly unaware that he was pushing Janet’s buttons just by being in the room.

Zac’s attempts at charisma were met with two distinct responses: delight or ire. The void between the two reactions became wider and wider with each passing year. Jonathan loved his friend like a brother, but while he’d matured and found his way in the world, Zac remained a stagnant playboy who rarely took anything seriously. Jonathan assumed Zac’s mischievous behavior and school yard antics were a rebellious attempt to get attention. Zac’s folks were always off and away on some business trip or vacation, leaving Zac behind for the Miller’s to look after. Jonathan’s parents welcomed him with open arms, providing him with a loving environment and a bit of much-needed discipline.

“Er, Zac? Why don’t you head to The Rooftop? I’m going to help Janet finish up here then I’ll meet you guys.”

“You got it, boss,” Zac said, standing at attention and giving a lazy salute. He turned and strode out the way he came.

“That boy drives me nuts.”

“I know he does,” Jonathan empathized, walking over to take the file folder from Janet’s outstretched hand. “Despite his cockiness, he’s a great guide. But I’ll talk to him about giving you some space. Deal?”

“Sounds good.” She shut down the computer and stood slowly, various joints popping as she rose. With a final stretch, the older woman collected the stack of invoices and shuffled over tothe filing cabinet. She eyed Jonathan as she pulled a pen from the salt and pepper hair twisted into a bun at her nape. “The Rooftop again?” she queried.

“Yep, with the usual suspects.”

“Hmm.” The noise was followed by a pause stuffed full of opinions yet to be said—yet to be saidtoday.

Jonathan waited a beat before he took the bait, knowing that his office manager would eventually blurt out what she had to say anyway. “Yes, Janet?”

“Not that you asked my opinion, and I’m sure you already know what I am going to say—”

He did.

“—I think you need to broaden your interests.”

“Broaden my interests? What is that supposed to mean?” The side of his mouth quirked upward as he tried to hold back a smile and feign seriousness. She pestered him relentlessly about his dating life. Or lack of a dating life, to be specific. She regularly told him what a waste it was for a man like him (tall, handsome, kind, successful) not to date. She liked to say that he was depriving the women in town of “high-quality stock.” Her words, though well-meaning, always seemed to make him feel more like a farm animal than an eligible bachelor.

“Dating, Mr. Miller! Falling in love with a special someone. I didn’t find my Jerry until I was fifty years old, and from that day, I cursed myself for not trying to find him sooner after my first husband passed. We’re social creatures, young man.” She peered over the top of her glasses again and waggled her pen at him before tucking it back into her hair. “We are not put on this earth to trudge around as solitary beings. It’s been four years since Cynthia’s passing; may she rest in peace. It’s time you start living your life again.” She closed and locked the filing cabinet with a metallic clunk. “You deserve happiness, dear. You’re too good ofa man not to.”

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