Kiss and Don’t Tell

“Mornin’,” I say as I walk past Holmes, who’s reading at the kitchen bar.

“Morning,” he says, his head stuck in his book.

It’s five thirty in the morning, and despite wanting to sleep in, it was next to impossible after all the “excitement” last night. Holmes is always an early riser, doesn’t care to sleep in much. But I also think that’s because he wrestles his demons when he’s asleep. I also think it’s why he gets lost in his books, so he doesn’t have to face reality.

“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to make coffee for us if you’re up this early,” I tease him.

“Why make it if I don’t drink it?”

“You drink it.”

“On occasion.” He closes his book and lays it face down.

I scoop coffee into the filter. “What are you reading?”

“Some fucked-up thriller.” He places his hand behind his head and stretches. “Think you should wear a shirt.”

I glance down at my bare chest and then back up at Holmes. “Am I turning you on?”

His face remains stoic. “There’s a girl in the house.”

“Think she’s never seen a bare chest before?”

“It’s respectful.”

I shrug. “She probably won’t be up for a while. She seems really happy with the guest room.” I start the coffee and then lift myself up on the counter. “Kind of crazy that she stumbled over here, right?”

Holmes nods. “Yeah. Better us than someone else.”

I scratch the side of my cheek, still trying to wake up. “Taters was a dick about it.”

“He wanted a guys’ trip. Having her here fucks that up.”

“It’s one night.” I roll my eyes. “There’s no way in hell we would’ve turned her out.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t have happened.” Holmes stares at me for a few seconds and then says, “You seemed to like her.”

My brow creases. “How would you even know? You were buried in your book most of the night.”

He shrugs. “I see things.”

“You’re delusional.”

He shrugs again and opens up his book again.

“I mean, yeah, she’s good-looking.”

He nods but doesn’t look up at me.

“And, sure, I think her curves are nice.”

I see him lift his brow, but he still stares down at his book.

“And am I a little curious why she’s in Banff with no reservations . . . and alone? Sure, but anyone would be.”

He makes a sound under his breath.

“And does she remind me of someone?”

Holmes lifts a brow. Again.

“Maybe she does, but I’m having a hard time putting my finger on it. But that’s beside the point. I wasn’t expecting a girl to come tumbling in here last night. Just shocked. Surprised, is all.”

Holmes leans back in his chair and lifts his book up.

“And call me crazy, but I think there’s something she’s not telling us. Like, some mystery she’s trying to solve. I mean, who comes up here without a reservation? Especially in today’s age when technology sits in the palm of your hand? Seems weird, doesn’t it?”

My coffee starts brewing, the bubbling sweetness of caffeine almost ready.

“But we don’t need to worry about it because she’ll be out of here today. Just going to be one of those stories we talk about when we’re older.” In an old man voice, I say, “Remember the time that girl came to the cabin in the middle of a thunderstorm and she gave us Quest Bars as a peace offering? That’s quite the story our grandchildren would get a kick out of.”

Holmes continues to be silent so I drop it at that and jump down from the counter to get a coffee cup.

“Oh, I didn’t think anyone would be up,” a shocked feminine voice says from the living room.

I turn to find Winnie standing there in a pair of leggings and a tight-fitting green shirt, different from the red she wore yesterday, but still the same shape. Meaning, once again, she’s showing off those curves that I seem to enjoy.

But when I look at her face, I not only notice she took a shower, but I see the way her eyes are scanning my chest.

My bare chest.

Hell, Holmes was right, I should’ve worn a shirt.

For some reason, I feel like picking up two coffee mugs so I can hold them in front of my nipples to cover up.

“Early birds,” I say awkwardly. “I thought, uh, that you’d sleep longer. I can go put on a shirt.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I mean, if you want to put a shirt on, please put one on, but don’t put one on because of me. I’ve seen a man’s chest before. I mean, not quite as fit and muscular as yours, but, I mean . . . not that I was looking. Obviously I looked, but I wasn’t staring. I just noticed, is all. But, sure, if you want to put a shirt on, go ahead, but not on my account. I’m fine. Not offended by your nakedness.” She takes a deep breath. “You’re not naked. That’s normal for a man, to not wear a shirt.” She thumbs toward the door. “Well, this has been embarrassing, I’m going to go now. Can you thank the guys for me?”

“Wait. You’re leaving?” I ask.

She nods. “Yeah, figured I should go find my car; I took up enough of your vacation time.”

For some reason, I don’t feel comfortable with her going out there alone, especially since all the woods and roads are new to her. So instead of letting her leave, I say, “I’ll go with you.”

I catch a smirk from Holmes, but choose to ignore it.

“Oh no, that’s not necessary at all.”

Forgetting the coffee, I ask, “Do you know your way around these roads?”

“I mean, it can’t be too hard, right? I have a general idea. Nothing a little poking around won’t solve.”

“You have no idea where you are.” I move past her and down the hall. “Be right back.” I jog toward my room, past hers. I glance in to see her bed made and as if nothing was touched. I make it to my room, snag a shirt from my dresser, and slip on my socks and running shoes. I throw my hair up into a man bun and then jog back down the hallway, where I see Winnie putting on her shoes.

When she spots me, she says, “Seriously, you don’t need to help me.”

“And there’s no way I’m going to let you go out there alone. Not only do you not know where you’re going, but it’s probably slippery, and you might need help getting around.”

She stands tall after tying her shoes and puts her hands on her hips. “You think I’m going to fall on my ass?” There’s a sassy tone in her voice that makes me smirk.

“With that kind of attitude, I very well might be wrong.”

“You are.” She lifts her backpack, but I snag it from her hand and slip it over my shoulder. “I can carry that.” Her protest falls flat.

“I know you can. So can I.” I walk to the front door and open it for her, but she just stands in the living room, staring at me. “Are you staying now?” I ask.

“No, but I don’t like to be bossed around.”

A snort comes from Holmes at the kitchen table. He’s getting way too much joy out of this.

“I can see that, but remember, I’m doing this out of the kindness of my own heart, so maybe you just follow along.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Trust me, you need it.” I head out the door and hope that she follows behind me. When I hear her irritated footsteps pound behind me, I smile to myself. The door shuts and I turn to find her standing with her arms crossed, her jacket clutched in one arm.

The sun is already rising, making it much easier to see than last night, and I notice the moment she takes in the sights for the first time. Her eyes widen in awe and her mouth pops open slightly. The tension in her shoulders from our small dispute eases.

The sun peeks through the tall, whispering pines, which stretch what seems like a mile high. Moss blankets the ground and in the far distance, the beautiful Rocky Mountains in all their glory, stretching across the landscape, majestic and the perfect backdrop for a peaceful vacation.

“Told you it was different in the daylight.”

“Wow.” Her eyes travel up the height of the trees. “It’s gorgeous here. No wonder why you like to come here for relaxation.” She’s silent for a second and then says, “Listen to that, just the sounds of the birds chirping, a creek bubbling in the background, nature surrounding you. It’s incredibly peaceful.”

I nod toward the back of the house. “You should see the backyard. Taters set it up so there’s an outdoor kitchen and patio, but in the far back, past the lawn games, there are different seating areas. There’s an egg chair—that’s what he calls it—and from where I’ve positioned it, you get the perfect view of Cascade Mountain. Breathtaking.”

“I can imagine.”

She seems to have calmed down now so I take advantage of that. “Come on, I’ll help you find your car. I run these roads all the time. Give me a direction and I think I could find your car.”

She sighs and walks up to me, succumbing to my offer. “You run while on vacation?”

“Yeah. I like exercising. Helps me clear my head.”

“Maybe I should have that kind of attitude. Help me shed down these thighs of mine.”

That would be a detriment. I like thick thighs.

“Nah, you’re good,” I say casually, and to change the subject so I don’t say something stupid—like, I like thick thighs—I ask, “Do you remember what direction you came from?”

She pauses and takes in the driveway of the cabin and then points at the mailbox.

“I remember almost running into that mailbox and I was walking downhill, so I came from the left.”

I nod. “That would’ve been my guess, but I wanted to make sure. Did you stay on the road?”

“Yes,” she answers. “I know that for sure—at least, I thought I was staying on the road.” She winces.

“If you weren’t on the road, you’d have tripped over logs and fallen trees. Did you trip?”

She shakes her head. “No, just slid around in mud.”

“Then we’re good.” We head up the slight incline, and because my legs are much longer than hers, I take it slow.

“You really don’t have to do this, you know,” she says softly. “But I do appreciate the help.”

“Not as if I have any plans for the day. You could’ve stayed for breakfast, though, you know. It would’ve been a breakfast of Cheez-Its and black coffee, but at least it’s something.”

She chuckles. “Although the fine dining at your place is nice, I didn’t want to impose any more than I did. I know Potato, uh, I mean . . . uh, God, I don’t even know his name.”

“Potato?” I laugh hard. “Oh shit. You mean Taters?”

“Yes, him. What’s his name?”

“Silas Taters.”

“That’s right. It’s so confusing with you guys using last names and first names, I can’t remember everybody.”

“Do you remember my name?” I ask, eyebrow raised.

“Yes.” Her cheeks turn red.

“And what is it?”

“Pacey.”

“Then you know the most important name in the house. But Potato, that’s one I’m going to keep in the back of my head.”

“Oh God, don’t tell him I said it. He already hates me.”

I scoff. “Taters doesn’t hate you. He’s just in a bad headspace right now. I’m sure he’ll feel like a dick at some point for the way he acted. He always does, then he goes on the tour of apologies.”

“Well, either way, I think it was best that I was out of the house before he woke up, just in case.”

“Hornsby will probably be heartbroken that he didn’t get to say goodbye.”

“That’s Eli, right?”

“Yeah.”

“He was so nice. A real champion for women.”

I laugh. “Yeah, and the biggest player you’ll ever meet.”

“Really?” she asks, seeming completely surprised.

“Oh yeah. Well, to be fair, he always lets the girls he’s with know his intentions from the very beginning. He’s not looking for a relationship, just a good time. He’s not into breaking hearts, is what he tells us. But I know, one day, when he’s least expecting it, some girl is going to come spinning into his life and flip his world upside down. Offer him a real challenge, and that’s the girl he’ll end up falling for.”

“That’s so shocking. That is not how I saw it.” She shakes her head.

“Oh yeah? How did you see it?”

She glances at me quickly and then looks away. “You don’t want to know.”

“Wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.” She’s quiet, so I bump my shoulder against hers. “Come on, give me your first impressions.”

“Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“Obviously.”

“Okay, I warned you, though.” She clears her throat. “Well, Halsey—that’s his name, right?”

“Yup.”

“He’s an easy one. Damaged and working through demons. He hangs out so he’s not alone, but likes to be alone. If that makes sense.”

“Very accurate,” I answer just as she slips on some mud. I reach out and catch her arm before she falls forward.

“Whoa, close one.” She laughs nervously. “Thank you.” She slowly lets go of my hand as she straightens out. “Uh, Silas—”

“Aka, Potato.”

She chuckles. “Yes, Potato—I pegged as just a general asshole because of the way he treated me. A rich guy who has better things to do than hand out charity.”

“Eh, he can be an asshole, but also really generous. I think you caught him on a bad night. Like we said last night, he’s fresh from a breakup and not taking it well.”

“I can understand that, which is why I’m not fully pegging him as an asshole. That title is pending. Now, Levi—he was my favorite last night.”

“Posey was your favorite?” My brows lift in surprise. “How the hell did he win that title?”

She shrugs. “He was funny and kind of a ditz. Was concerned about filling his stomach more than anything, didn’t have a care in the world when it came to a stranger in the house, and then waved goodnight to me like a little boy. I don’t know, he just made my heart happy. And he has a great smile.”

“The son of a bitch does have a great smile. I thought you were going to say Hornsby was your favorite, since he was a champion for women.”

The sun beats down on us, even this early in the morning. She wraps her jacket around her waist and ties it securely. “Eli was incredibly sweet and I was very grateful to him. But not my favorite. I also thought that maybe he was . . . gay.”

I pause and then full-on belly laugh. “Gay? You thought Hornsby was gay?”

“He’s too pretty,” she says. “He was so clean-cut and perfect. No offense, but I’ve never seen a man that well put together who wasn’t gay. This coming from a girl whose best friend is gay. I’ve seen many gay men.”

“I thought your best friend is a girl.”

“A girl can have more than one best friend. Katherine is my overbearing, overprotective friend who would rather hide behind a spray of disinfectant than go see a movie, and then Max is my other best friend. The one who said to live my best life and come up here. And Eli reminded me of him. Just . . . beautiful to look at.”

I scratch the side of my face. “Hornsby is a pretty boy, that’s for damn sure, but he’s also very much into women. Unless he’s trying to overcompensate for something I don’t know about. The man is as straight as they come. I do have a gay teammate, though. He came out last year. Proud of the guy.”

“Really? Who?”

“Ian Rivers.”

“Hmm, that name is familiar. Maybe I read it in the news.” She slips again, but this time catches herself before I have to help.

“His coming out was all over the news. Pretty badass, actually.” I nudge her shoulder again. “What about me? What was your first impression?”

“Now, this . . . I don’t think you want to hear.”

“Ooh, must be good, then. Go ahead, give it to me.”

She lets out a long breath. “You asked for it.” She pushes her hair behind her ear and says, “I thought you were the player, not Eli.”

“Me?” I point to my chest. “Why me?”

“I never met a man who looked like you, with the topknot, who wasn’t a player. Plus, you just have this whole . . . I don’t know, tempting look about you. And whereas Eli was very welcoming, you were kind of indifferent, so I figured you were the one who played around.”

I drag my hand over my jaw. “Or maybe I’m just shy. Ever think about that?”

“You’re not shy right now.”

“Because I’m in my element and I don’t have to look you in the eyes. Trust me, if we were face to face, this would be a different interaction.”

She pauses in the road, and I stop as well. I lift my eyes to her deep blue ones and I feel a bolt of electricity zap between us. Fuck, I know this girl from somewhere, I really do, but just from our brief conversation, I’m getting the feeling that she doesn’t know me at all. There’s not even an ounce of recognition in her eyes. So, am I fucking crazy? Am I losing my mind? I’m not one of those people who believes in multiple lives, but . . . did I know her in another life?

Humor in her eyes, she asks, “Are you implying that I intimidate you?”

I grip the back of my neck. “You know, just never been too good with girls, is all, let alone pretty ones.” It’s not a line; there’s no humor in my voice. It’s just plain facts. I’ve never been the guy who prowls around with girls fainting at his feet.

Her cheeks blush.

Hell, my cheeks blush.

And then she starts walking forward again. “You know, I was right.”

“About what?” I ask.

“You are a player, and you just don’t know it.”