“True.” He was basing everything he knew on a history from their early twenties. Had she changed? And why was he so interested in discovering that answer? “All right, if you’re game, let’s do it.”
She tucked her laptop away and shut off the recorder, stowing the small machine in her bag as well. The bright pink tote seemed so unlike Kate, who had been shy and reserved in college. He’d rarely seen her wear anything other than dark colors. This Kate, in the cute dress and the pink bag, was more vibrant, more interesting, and way too tempting.
“Great. I’ll meet you at the trailhead at seven-thirty.” Kate glanced at her watch. “I have to go. I’m meeting my grandmother.”
“You still do that?”
She nodded. “Every Saturday. We don’t go as far or as long on our shopping trips as we used to, because she’s getting older now and not as spry as she used to be, but yes, I still keep that weekend date with Grandma Wanda.”
Once upon a time, Trent had been close to his family like that. Then he’d grown up, and his ambition and drive had taken him further and further away from that little family nursery and small-town dreams his parents had. Now their relationship was strained and his visits home rare. “I think that’s really nice, KitKat.”
If she heard the envy in his voice, she didn’t show it. “Thanks.” She dug her car keys out of her pocket. “See you tomorrow.”
“I’ll walk you out.” Not because he needed to, or because she could possibly get lost in this wall-to-wall glass office space, but because he couldn’t quite let this new Kate, the one who had volunteered to go hiking, leave yet. A hundred questions ran through his mind, but he held them back. They were working on a book, nothing more. Technically, she was his contracted employee, and mixing that with something personal would be a huge mistake.
Too soon, they reached the lobby and the elevators. He reached past her to push the button, catching another whiff of that warm, vanilla floral fragrance. “Do you need me to send anything over from our inventory? Hiking shoes? Jacket?”
“I’ve got it under control, Trent. And I still have your jacket in my car. I meant to bring it with me today and forgot.”
“Keep it, KitKat. I’m sure it looks much better on you than on me.” The elevator doors opened, Kate stepped inside and pressed the button. “See you tomorrow.”
“See you soon, Trent.” As the doors shut on her smile and big green eyes, Trent realized he was looking forward to this hike for more reasons than just the chance to be outdoors again. He went back to his office, his mood lighter, and with the oddest urge to burst into song.
Eight
What had she been thinking?
How about I go with you? It’ll be fun.
Kate paced her apartment Sunday morning while Charlie hid under the coffee table, watching her with narrowed eyes. Kate had woken up ridiculously before-sunrise early and had been a bundle of nerves ever since. She didn’t go hiking or canoeing or skiing. The riskiest thing she’d ever done was play putt-putt golf on a rainy day.
She’d debated what to wear for at least an hour. Gotten dressed, changed her mind, then gotten dressed again. Her gut had been churning so much this morning, she’d barely been able to keep down a piece of toast.
“I’m not a hiker, Charlie,” she said to the cat. “I’m not even a walker. I’m a writer who sits all day and tells stories. What was I thinking?”
Charlie, of course, had no answers. He kept watching her, his tail flicking against the underside of the coffee table with a steady, soft thwack sound. Kate glanced at the time and stopped pacing. If she procrastinated another minute, she’d be late.
This was what she got for taking Penny’s advice, which had nothing to do with hiking and everything to do with writing. Ironic that Kate was using that hike to avoid the writing she should be doing.
She grabbed a small backpack she’d filled with a notepad, her recorder, a snack, and a couple of water bottles, then headed out the door. The weatherman had predicted a clear, sunny day with temps in the mid-fifties, and so far, Seattle had delivered with a bright blue sky and a lazy sun inching its way up from the horizon.
The Moulton Falls trailhead lot was half-filled with cars when Kate arrived. Moulton Falls was one of the few trails accessible in the winter and spring, and on such a gorgeous day, it was no surprise other people were embarking on a hike. SUVs and crossovers with roof racks and trailer hitches—clearly people who spent a lot of time outdoors—peppered the pavement. She parked her tiny Honda sedan beside a towering dark blue, extended-size Suburban. The shadow of the SUV completely covered Kate’s car, as if she’d parked next to a giant. She grabbed her bag and headed across the lot.
Trent was already there, standing by the wide road that marked the entrance to the trail. He was talking to a small group of people, his back to Kate, which gave her the opportunity to watch him and admire his ridiculously in-shape body as she crossed the parking lot. He was wearing a pair of dark brown khaki pants with more pockets than she’d ever seen on a single piece of clothing, and a dark green T-shirt. He had a black backpack slung over one shoulder, and a ballcap shading his face. He hadn’t shaved this morning, which completed his man-in-the-wild look with an edge of scruffy bad boy.
Her heart began to race, and she prayed her traitorous blush didn’t announce to the world how attracted she still was to Trent. “Good morning!” she said in as cheery a voice as she could manage, without a trace of nerves. She hoped.
Trent turned toward her. The smile dropped from his face when his gaze took in her outfit. “What are you wearing?”
She peeked at her jeans and sneakers. Outfit number three in her indecisive morning. Albeit, both outfits number one and two were another variation of the same combination. “Hiking clothes.”
“Uh, Kate, those Chucks are a little more appropriate for hiking the mall, not the side of a mountain.”
“But they’re high-tops with lots of laces to keep them secure.” She stuck out one pink canvas Converse. “What’s wrong with these?”
“For one—” he bent down and caught her foot in his hand, and her heart did a somersault, “—no traction on the bottom. For another, thin material, which won’t keep your feet warm and will instantly get soaked if it rains—”
“But the weatherman said—”
“For another, they’re practically brand new, which is going to mean blisters at the end of the day.” He rose and dusted off his hands. “Come with me.”
She trotted behind him, trying not to feel like she’d messed up before they’d even begun, and across the parking lot to the giant Suburban that had dwarfed her little Honda. Of course that was Trent’s car. Why was she surprised? He swung open the back door, revealing dozens of boxes of all sizes. Some marked T-shirts, others marked PANTS, and a set of smaller boxes with shoe sizes on them.