Page 91 of Chasing the Sun
My throat was thick. Before I could come back with a witty response, he was gone, moving around the vehicle. Cal slipped his arms through a backpack and settled himself onto the seat behind me.
His thighs were thick and warm on the outside of mine. His arms caged me in as he reached for the handlebars. His cologne wrapped around me as my brain went fuzzy. It took every ounce of control not to arch back and wiggle my butt against him like a cat in heat.
I took a deep breath. “No helmet for you?”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “I’m not the precious cargo, Darling.” He turned the key, and the vehicle roared to life.
The words landed low in my stomach, unfurling like something slow and molten.
Precious cargo.
He had said it so easily, like it was a simple fact—like he actually meant it. I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way my pulse tripped over itself.
We bounced along the hilly terrain of the farm, hugging the property line between the Drifted Spirit Inn and Star Harbor Farm until we popped out onto a quiet county road.After checking that the roadway was clear, Cal pressed forward, guiding us across the asphalt and into the tree line, where the forest swallowed us whole.
The early-evening sun hung heavy in the sky, its amber glow stretching long shadows across the ground, slipping like molten gold through the canopy. The air thickened as we ventured deeper. Cooler beneath the towering oaks and maples, the scent of damp earth and pine settling into my lungs. The tires crunched over fallen twigs and scattered stones, the steady hum of the engine blending with the rustling leaves, a whispered promise that night was closing in.
The woods felt alive out there—untamed and breathing. It was a place where time moved differently, where the world beyond the trees didn’t seem to exist. A breeze rustled through the branches, carrying the crisp bite of early evening. Everything felt quieter, like the rest of the world had blurred at the edges.
Cal slowed, and when the vehicle stopped, I looked around. As far as the eye could see there was nothing but trees and greenery and a few foot paths made by either animals or hikers. Birds chirped and leaves rustled, but there was no other sign of human activity.
Curiosity piqued, I followed Cal as he got off of the 4-wheeler and walked to the back. “So what’s the plan, man?”
Cal adjusted the backpack onto his shoulders and accepted the helmet, placing it on the back rack. He turned and looked out into the trees. “The plan is to make you dinner, but first we forage.”
My eyes went round. “Mushroom hunting?” I asked. “I haven’t done that since I was a kid!”
Cal nodded, adjusting the straps of his backpack before turning to me. “But there are rulesfirst.”
“Of course there are,Daddy.” I enjoyed the way my silly teasing always got under his skin, making the tiniest hint of a blush color his cheeks.
Cal sighed and leveled me with the mostDaddylook ever. A bubble of laughter tickled my chest.
“I’m serious,” he said. “I can’t have you getting poisoned on our first date. We are probably past the morel season, though with the recent rain we could get lucky. But when it comes to mushrooms, don’t eat anything unless you are one hundred percent sure of what it is. I know most of our native species, poisonous and not, so I still want you to double-check with me first before you putanythingin your mouth.”
My eyebrow crept higher.“Anything?”
A flash of desire rippled across his features as he smiled. “Anything.”
My belly fluttered, but I nodded, giving him a break because I knew he was right. Ingesting mushrooms you thought were safe without being absolutely certain could be deadly, and I had no intention of dying before getting to experience a full date with Callum Blackwood.
I raised both palms. “I won’t touch anything. I promise.”
Cal chuckled, his shoulders softening as he started walking down the trail with me at his side. “You can touch things, mycotoxins are absorbed through your gut, not your skin.”
Grumpy Cal was hot. Intelligent, protective, grumpy Cal was downright irresistible.
Keeping in step with each other, we wandered from the path, letting the forest envelop us as we stepped over fallen trees and rotted logs. Cal crouched first, his broad shoulders dipping low, his forearm brushing against my knee. I swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of how close wewere, of the warmth of his skin even through the fabric of his shirt.
Cal grabbed my hand, encouraging me to crouch beside him. His hand held on to mine as his other pointed in the distance. “See that white mound on the log over there?”
I nodded, but it was hard to concentrate on anything besides Cal’s large hand wrapped around mine.
“Early mornings and early evenings make the light better for seeing the contrast of the mushrooms against the earth. Plus, they prefer cooler, damper temperatures, and sometimes the summer sun just gets too damn hot ... looks like we got lucky.”
I walked with him hand in hand as we approached the fallen log. “What is it?” I asked, examining the strange-looking mushroom. It was a creamy yellow color with a trumpetlike cap and wavy edges.
“These are my favorite. Chanterelles.” He plucked one and twirled it between his fingers. “Their flavor is kind of nutty ... almost peppery. They hold up really well to cooking.”
