Page 36 of Unraveling Rain
“Nuh-uh. You can’t put weight on your shoulder,” she says with a smile.
I nod, a little sheepish. I’m so entranced by her, I forgot what Dr. Gutierrez told me. “Thank you for looking out for me,” I say.
“Okay, before we go, I need to apply sunscreen. Otherwise, my skin will burn after five seconds in the sun,” she says, grabbing a bottle from her backpack.
I shamelessly ogle her as she smooths the lotion over her legs. They’re long and toned, and her creamy skin needs all the sun protection it can get. The thought of having those legs wrapped around my neck as I taste her makes me shiver.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
I adjust my hat, feeling like an ass for thinking about her like that when she’s been nothing but nice—and clear that she doesn’t want to hook up.
“Yup, I’m all good.”
She passes me the sunscreen, and I quickly rub it over my arms and legs.
When I hand it back, she says, “Here, let me help you,” and gently pushes down on my shoulders.
I bend my knees enough so she can reach the back of my neck. Then she rubs a bit onto my ears, her soft touch sending butterflies loose in my stomach.
What the actual fuck is happening?
She’s only being nice.
“Thank you,” I say, clearing my throat.
We need to start walking before my thoughts drift back to places they shouldn’t.
Once she has the backpack on, we head away from the parking lot.
“I’ve been coming to this place since I was little. Summer has always been my favorite season—exploring nature, bonfires, grilled food, cooling down in a lake or the creek back home. Fireworks,” she says, and I immediately smile.
“Summer is my favorite season too. Growing up in Massachusetts, summers were short, so we had to enjoy every single moment to the max.”
I spot a sign for the summit trail. It says it’s three and a half miles long and marked as a moderate hike. We can easily do it if we keep a pace that allows us to keep chatting.
I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of talking to her.
“Anything in particular you enjoyed about summer growing up?” she asks, keeping up without breaking a sweat.
“Mom and I used to pick strawberries in June and blueberries in July. We could spend an entire afternoon in the field picking berries. I think I ate at least a pound before we were ready to pay,” I say with a chuckle, the memory of Mom and me riding a wagon to the strawberry fields playing in my mind. “The farmers knew we kids would eat our weight in berries and never said a word. It was the best.”
“Sounds like a lot of fun. How about going to the beach? I don’t think I’ve ever been,” Rain says, and I’m surprised, though I don’t point it out.
I guess my face gives me away, because she smiles and keeps talking.
“Yeah, my daddy used to take care of the farm, and unless you have a lot of help, it’s an everyday job. I don’t think he ever took time off. But Mama was a teacher, so she had summers free. We used to do picnics by the creek or camp out in the orchard to see the stars. Granny would take us on walks to collect herbs and wildflowers for her potions and sachets.”
When I look at her, there’s a dreamy softness in her eyes, like she’s lost in a memory.
I wonder if one day she’ll think about this moment—with me—the same way she thinks about her happy childhood.
“Fourth of July is coming up, and it’s a town-wide event. It’s the biggest celebration besides the Apple Festival and the tree lighting in December. Maybe you’ll still be around to celebrate,” she says with a smile.
The moment she looks at me, I feel it deep in my heart.
This woman is going to change my world.
The view from the summit is breathtaking. I don’t think I’ve felt this connected to nature and my surroundings in a long time. The different blue hues of the mountains clash spectacularly with the lush greens of the trees. A few clouds drift across the bright, pale sky, and it’s not too hot or humid yet. It’s the perfect summer day.
