Page 17 of Climb Me Maybe
I'm losing my damn mind.
Three days of Brady Tanaka on my massage table, and I'm about as professional as a cat in heat.
Every time those blue eyes meet mine, every breathy sound he makes when I work his muscles, every glimpse of those incredible tattoos—it's like my body's staging a revolt against my brain.
My professional boundaries are fraying faster than cheap massage table linens.
If these massages had been for actual money, I’d have dumped Brady as a client by now…and done his work for free to protect my reputation.
I mean, I’ve had thoughts about my clients, especially all these rugged, muscled lumberjacks here.But I know how to keep myself in check.If I ever felt I was crossing a line, I’d bail.
That’s why this whole thing with Brady is killing me.
Since tonight's Heritage Night, I hope to let off some steam.
The whole camp's gathered around the fire pit for Ewan's storytelling.But it’s more like Mardi Gras for lumberjacks.
Twinkle lights zigzag between the trees as Connor mans the whiskey barrel punch.Fiddle music tangles with laughter as guests weave around displays of antique logging tools and family heirlooms.
Teagan shoves a mason jar into my hand, moonshine sloshing.“Drink.You look like you need it.”
“Thanks,” I say, sipping cautiously—sweetness masking a kerosene kick.
I really should be networking, making connections for my Serenity Springs interview in a couple of days.Instead, I'm focused on Brady sitting across the circle from me, firelight dancing across his cheekbones.
He's had a couple beers.I can tell because his usual rigid posture has relaxed into something more natural—more approachable.And he keeps catching my eye with these little smiles that make my panties damp.
“SUPREME LORDS OF TIMBER!”Rourke, the log-roller, bellows from the ale cask, shirtless and glistening.“Guests go home with a free bottle of our signature punch if you beat the staff in arm wrestling!”
Chaos erupts.Guests cheer as a couple of beefy Canadian men challenge Rourke and Connor.
Teagan slaps her head.“Oh no.Not again.Rourke, we can’t do that!”She heads toward them as I chuckle.
When the challenges die down, Ewan kicks off an animated tale about selkies and lost love, his Scottish brogue thick.
Brady gets up and moves around the fire.
"Mind if I sit?"he asks, even though he's already settling onto the log bench right next to me.“I wanted to hide until the arm wrestling was over.”
"Oh, darn," I say, watching the way his flannel shirt pulls across his shoulders.“I was hoping you’d want to arm wrestle me.”
“Hell no.You’d take me.Easily.”
I giggle like a silly girl talking to her crush.
Oh geez, Imogen.
"Great story," he says with a smile, nodding toward Ewan.
"Mmm, yeah," I reply, but I'm too distracted by his proximity to follow the plot.He smells like the smoke from the fire, and I’d like to lick him to see if he tastes like it, too.
The story ends to applause, and Ewan launches into a haunting melody on his fiddle.Couples start pairing off—Connor pulling Teagan closer, Graham's arm around Sky's shoulders.The atmosphere turns intimate and romantic.
Brady shifts beside me, his thigh brushing mine."Want another drink?"he asks, gesturing to my empty jar.
"I’d love a beer.This moonshine is crazy strong."
“You got it.”He returns with two fresh beers and he sits as close to me as before, close enough that I can count his long eyelashes.
