Page 7 of Climb Me Maybe
I believe her.Everything she's said so far has been dead-on.
She studies my face."Look, I know this is...difficult.Knowing your body isn’t functioning like it used to.”
“You mean because I’m getting old,” I say, with a huff.
“I didn’t say that,” she replies.“But with the wear and tear you’ve put your body through over your years of climbing, I really want you to think about all of this."
"Think about it," I repeat, and she gives me a smile.
"If you decide you want to work with me, we can set something up.If not, that's okay too.I can always recommend someone else."
The idea of someone else working on me doesn't appeal at all, but I appreciate she's giving me space to decide.
"I will," I say, heading for the door."Think about it, I mean."
But as I walk back to my own cabin, I know I've already made up my mind…despite my fears.
CHAPTER3
IMOGEN
Dinner in the dining hall is like stepping into a lumberjack convention where everyone hit the genetic lottery.It smells like cedar, marinara sauce, and testosterone.
I swipe a plate of lasagna and garlic bread from the buffet line and scan the room—log beams overhead, picnic tables packed with rugged men shoveling food into their faces like it's a competitive sport.
I’d like to find a place to sit that won't have me drooling over broad shoulders and corded forearms.
Ha!Good luck.
"Imogen!"Sky, the camp’s social media manager and a sustainable travel influencer, waves me over to a table where she's sitting with her husband Graham, and Teagan."Come sit with us!"
I settle in next to Sky, just as Connor, Teagan’s husband, slides onto the bench across from us, biceps testing the seams of his shirt.At least he’s taken.“Saw you worked on Ewan’s rotator cuff this afternoon.Dude’s tossing logs like he’s going to compete for the Highland Games again.”
Before I can answer, Sky launches into a detailed review of the massage I gave her this afternoon as well.
"Oh my god, you guys," she gushes, "I feel like I've been reborn.Like, completely reconstructed from the ground up."She rotates her shoulders demonstratively."I didn't even realize how tight I was until Imogen got her magic hands on me."
Graham raises an eyebrow."Better thanmymagic hands?"
“That’s different.”She winks at him."Seriously, it was like she found muscles I didn't know I had and convinced them to work again."Sky turns to me."Where did you learn to do that thing with the trigger points?"
"Practice," I say, stabbing a piece of lasagna."And a lot of continuing education.Bodies are puzzles—you just have to figure out which pieces are stuck."
"Well, you definitely figured mine out," Sky says."I'm booking another session before you leave."
The conversation flows easily around the table, and I find myself relaxing despite the intimidating concentration of attractive men.
Connor and Graham have that easy camaraderie of people who've worked together for years, while Teagan and Sky clearly adore their husbands in a way that's sweet without being nauseating.
Suddenly, I look up and Brady appears in the doorway holding his dinner tray.My pulse jumps when our eyes meet across the dining hall.He hesitates for a moment, then heads toward our table.He’s got that controlled grace that I’m beginning to recognize as his armor, carrying his tray like it’s a ceremonial offering.
"Brady!"Teagan calls out."Come sit.Imogen was just telling us about trigger point therapy."
He slides into the chair directly across from me, and I catch his fresh, rich scent that had me holding back from burying my face against his shoulder during his consultation.
"How was your meeting with Imogen?"Connor asks through a mouthful of cornbread, and I watch Brady's jaw tighten slightly.
"Informative," he says, glancing at me."She knows what she's talking about."
