Page 23 of You Can't Fight Lightning
He was the sort I could go for.
I could admit it to myself at least, if not anyone else. I sighed with relief. Now I was off for three days, so he’d be long gone by the time I came back to work.
My heart felt both lighter and heavier as I headed home.
I didn’t want to examine the reasons why.
* * *
The next day, I was up early. It was going to be a gorgeous day, and I wanted to go on a hike, go into town for lunch, hit the library, and do some shopping. Then I could laze around for the next two days. My apartment had a tiny pool. I didn’t see any of the other renters using it, but I liked it, tiny as it was. The pool figured in my plans as well.
I headed out and drove over to park on Brewery, just below OK Street, where the trail up Youngblood Hill began. My goal today was the ‘B’ that overlooked Bisbee. Also, I wanted to stop and see both the Buddhist shrine that was tucked along a curve in the trail, and the Catholic shrine at the top. I brought plastic bags to grab any trash or debris. I wasn’t religious in any sense of the word—Loretta told me more than once that I needed to get right (although she didn’t offer hints or specifics as to how one got ‘right’) or I was headed for the hob of Hell—but I loved both of the shrines. I loved that people kept them up, that they were willing to make the hike and the effort for the things they loved. So I did my part and picked up trash any time I hiked Youngblood Hill. It should only take me about an hour, then I could do my shopping, grab some new books, and end my day out with lunch.
Essentially, the perfect day.
I didn’t see anyone else along the trail as I walked uphill. I stopped at the Buddhist shrine. It looked like it was in pretty good shape, although there was a bag from a fast-food restaurant nearby, and a couple of cans and bottles. I carefully put them in my bag. I didn’t feel tired at all. I’d gotten solid sleep last night. Although I fell asleep thinking about Z. How could there be so much handsome in one man? It seemed a little unfair, not only to other men, but to the women around Z.
He was like a lethal weapon.
But then, so was I. Cursed and lethal. I liked him better living than not, so for my own sake and his, I’d stay away. It was hard, after just meeting him two days ago, and he’d already asked me out. I’d said no, but it had been more difficult than I thought it would be.
Than it should be.
The Catholic shrine at the top of Youngblood Hill was more elaborate than the Buddhist shrine below. It had been made from concrete, and still had a layer of whitewash, although it was in need of another one. I picked up some paper and can trash, and then stood and stretched my arms wide at the top of the hill. Overlooking town from up here, it always felt like anything was possible. I checked my phone. I’d hiked up faster than I’d thought I would. Instead of just walking back down the way I’d come up, I walked a different trail that took me over to Chihuahua Hill. There was a shrine to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr, and this one didn’t have much trash, but I took my time to make sure I didn’t miss anything. Then I ran into the Jeep road that took me to Chihuahua Hill. At the top, I stretched out my arms again, breathing in deeply. I loved seeing the town from up here.
A picture of Z intently reading his book last night broke into my thoughts.
Damn.
I was trying to keep himoutof my thoughts. This was not going in the right direction.
“Move it,” I grumbled out loud. “You don’t get to park here.” I wasn’t sure I was talking to the shade of Z or my own traitorous thoughts.
The walk down didn’t take long, and before I knew it, I was back in town. Tossing the trash, I got to the grocery store, took my groceries home, cleaned up a little, and then went to the library.
I was on a thriller kick, and I left with a carrier bag of books. I stowed my books in the car and left the car in the parking lot and walked over to Bathtub Coffee, which was my favorite local coffee shop. I tried to go to all of them, because shopping local was the best, but this one was my favorite.
There were tables out front, and I stopped with an abrupt halt because at the table farthest to the left of the small sidewalk seating area was Z.
He was bent over a book, as he’d been last night.
Oh, crud. Did I keep on walking? Did I stop and say hello?
My traitorous heart and body, it must be admitted, wanted me to stop. Be friendly. What could it hurt, right?
My brain knew better.
While I fought with myself internally, Z looked up. He stared at me, or at least, I thought he was staring at me, given that I couldn’t be sure since he wore sunglasses, then he stood up, the book still in his hand.
“Roxy. Hello. Can I get you something to drink?” His smile was brilliant, even more so out in the daylight than it had been in the bar.
“Um… I don’t know.”
I could see his eyebrows raise above the rim of his sunglasses. “Are you on your way somewhere?”
A sigh escaped me, the sigh of the heavily put upon. “I was on my way here.” It felt like I’d lost something, admitting that.
How in the hell did his grin get even wider, more brilliant? “Then you can sit with me, if you like. Or,” Z turned to his right. “There’s a table here. You can sit at this table, if sitting with me is just too over the top for you.”
