Page 18 of A Mountain Man Walks into a Library

“Well, you’re the most interesting plow truck driver I’ve ever met.” I shift until I’m on my elbows, staring down into his face. “Academically brilliantandpractically useful? Total package.”

Sam blushes and strains up to kiss me.

We kiss for a long time after that, both growing hard again and rubbing lazily against each other. We’re not seeking orgasm, I think, just nearness, just the soft sounds that tell us we’ve made another body feel good. We move against each other and touch and kiss until we hear the tires of my parents’ car crunching up the winding mountain road and into the driveway. Only then do we finally get dressed.

Chapter 9

Samuel

Ithink I keep it prettycool in front of Remy’s parents.

And Remy is the epitome of crisp professionalism...which is honestly very adorable and awkward, and it’s probably all the confirmation his parents need to assume that we spent the morning banging. But I keep my hands to myself. And I don’t think either of us have any visible hickeys. I can’t control the way my face keeps flushing when Remy smiles at me, but other than that, we do okay.

The four of us eat lunch together. Marjorie managed to find a farmers market while they were out driving between waterfalls, and she came back with burger and a tote bag full of vegetables for the grill. I keep forgetting that I have anything else going on in my life outside of playing boyfriends with Remy.

After food, his parents want to go back out. They had seen a canoe rental while they were out and, because they are superhuman nature-loving machines, they load us into their car and we spend the afternoon paddling along Stone Creek. It’s a slow-moving vein of water and any time Remy’s parents’ canoe drifts out of sight around a bend, he turns around in ours to steal a kiss.

It’s cute. He doesn’t have to hide anything from his parents. He doesn’t have to hide us. They thought we were dating before they even met me.

But when he strains his neck to kiss me, the canoe shifting threateningly beneath us, it doesn’t feel like he’s hiding. It feels like he’s protecting the real “us” from public view. Like he’s keeping this thing just for us for a little while longer. I kiss him back for so long that we almost tip over.

We sneak kisses as we portage our canoes back to the drop site. Holding the boat over our heads, our faces shielded, Remy arcs again to claim my mouth. The kisses grow heated, and I’m already thinking about getting back into his bed this morning. Already thinking about the way our bodies fit together.

By the time we arrive back at Remy’s cabin, his leaning lazily sideways against my shoulder. He’s got a clean, mineral smell to him from Stone Creek’s high iron content. Minerals and sunshine, his sleepy smile turned away from me, but visible in the rear-view mirror. I turn my face and steal another kiss, this one pressed into his damp hair.

His parents are going home in a couple of hours. We’ll probably eat again, because Mark Lacross is obsessed with the grill. He doesn’t have one back in Ann Arbor. We’ll have the place to ourselves soon.

Mark is firing up the grill, and Marjorie is laying out whitefish fillets and patting them dry, when I notice Remy lingering by the cabin’s back porch, his arms curled around a stack of plates. I try to wave him over, but he just blinks at me. His body posture is strange, stiff and hesitant.

I quirk an eyebrow at him. “Rem? You okay?”

He startles at my voice and the plates fall out of his arms. They rattle against each other and shatter on the ground. Shards blast out into the grass.

I’m moving before I realize it. I cross the yard quickly, though I slow as I near the broken glass.

“Baby, hold still,” I tell him. “Are you all right?”

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