Page 26 of Climb Me Maybe
As I hold her against me, skin to skin, I’m content.Whole.
I’m experiencing life to the fullest.
And hell, I'm falling in love as I do it.
CHAPTER7
IMOGEN
Ipractically float across camp toward the climbing demonstration area.
My interview this morning went evenbetterthan I'd hoped—the spa manager loved me, said the glowing reviews from the Timber Run staff had sealed the deal, and offered me the position on the spot.
I’ll have to give them all a proper thank you.
But more importantly, I get to stay.
And build something here with Brady.
The thought of him makes my skin tingle with memories of last night…the way he kissed me and held me like I was the most precious thing in the world, the sounds he made when I took him apart with my hands, the reverent way he worshipped my body with his mouth.
I'm getting wet just thinking about it.
I find a spot near the demonstration platform where Brady's setting up his climbing gear.He's all business—checking his harness, testing his ropes, adjusting his helmet.But when he spots me in the crowd, his entire face lights up with a smile that makes my heart skip.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Connor's voice booms across the assembled group of guests, "prepare to witness Brady Tanaka, our resident high-rigger, show you why he's considered one of the best climbers in the business."
Brady scales the massive tree with fluid grace, his movements smooth and steady.I watch, mesmerized, as he navigates the branches with the confidence that comes with years of experience.
When he reaches a particularly challenging section near the top, he glances down to make sure I'm watching before attempting a complex maneuver that has the crowd gasping in appreciation.
He's clearly performing for me, taking more risks than necessary, climbing higher than usual.
Show-off.
That's when it happens.
His foot slips on a wet branch, and he catches himself awkwardly, his thigh slamming against a thick limb.Even from the ground, I know thathadto hurt.
He’s definitely favoring his left leg now.
By the time he rappels down, his jaw is tight with obvious pain and something else—embarrassment, frustration, maybe even shame, if I know him well enough.
"That was incredible!"one of the guests gushes as Brady unclips his harness."How long have you been climbing?"
"Too long, apparently," he mutters, avoiding my eyes.
The crowd disperses, praising his skill, but I can see the way he's holding himself, the careful way he's moving.More concerning is the look on his face—like he's just confirmed his worst fears about himself.
"Brady," I approach him carefully."Come to my cabin.Let me look at that thigh."
"I'm fine."His voice is clipped, distant."Just need to ice it."
"You're not fine.You're hurt, and you're being stubborn about it."
He finally meets my eyes, and what I see there breaks my heart."I'm forty-three years old, Imogen.I just nearly fell out of a tree because I was showing off for a woman young enough to be my?—"
"Don't you start with that," I interrupt."You slipped on a wet branch.It happens to climbers half your age."
