“Yes, it’s one that a few people have made.” Bouncing in the seat, she watched the scenery fly past. He’d taken a back exit out of town, one of the ones that went into the hills rather than around to the state highway. “I’m sorry to say, you’re not terribly original.”
“I was never the quickest kid in school. I guess some things don’t change.”
She preferred to think that many things could indeed change. “Where did you go to school?”
“Auckland.”
“You were a city boy?” She couldn’t fathom that.
“Nah, never like the other boys in my year, and we moved to a place in the country near Taupo when I was fourteen. That’s when I discovered a love for the great outdoors.”
“Huh. I just figured you’d grown up on a farm and gone hunting with your dad since you were five, that kind of thing.”
“Miles off. My dad was a real townie. We only moved after he and Mum separated.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
He lifted one shoulder. “It happens. I still keep in touch with them both, but it turns out that when you take Mum out of the equation, I don’t have much in common with Dad.”
“Parent troubles. I can relate.” She sighed. “Mine are crazy overprotective, which I totally understand, considering how sick I was when I was little, but I’ve grown up now and they can’t see that. It makes it hard for us to have conversations on a level footing. Especially when they’re supplementing my scholarship to help cover my study and living expenses until I graduate.” Something she was eternally grateful for.
“You’re their little girl,” he said softly.
“I was their little girl,” she corrected. “I’ll always be their daughter, but I’m not a child anymore.”
He shook his head. “You’re fighting a losing battle there. Your parents will always see you as their child. I know mine do.”
That made her feel a little better. She’d assumed the way her parents helicoptered around her said more about her than them, but perhaps she’d been wrong. “Thanks. You know, you’re sweeter than I thought you were.”
He briefly met her gaze. “Don’t go getting the wrong idea, Brooke. I’m not a big softie.”
She wasn’t sure she believed him. “Are we nearly there?”
“Nearly,” he answered, with exaggerated patience. “Another few minutes.”
As Jack pulled onto the gravel road that led deeper into the national park, Brooke continued to natter from the passenger seat. She’d moved on from asking questions and was telling him, in detail, about the biography she’d read of Sir Edmund Hillary, the first man to summit Mt. Everest, along with Sherpa Tenzing Norgay. He was amazed both that one girl could talk so much, and that she was practically vibrating with energy when, supposedly, she was still in recovery.
He glanced over at her discreetly. The woman beside him was most decidedly not sickly. Her cheeks were peachy pink, her eyes bright, and her excitement reminded him of Shane’s kids on the last day of school. Fucking adorable. And while he’d been determined to get this trip out of the way as quickly as possible, he was enjoying her company. Yeah, she talked a lot, but she was knowledgeable and damned cute with her upturned nose and sweet voice. Her enthusiasm was endearing, if a little misplaced.
Hopefully the constant stream of conversation would dry up when they began walking. When he and Claudia had hiked together, she’d spent the whole time complaining about how bad sunscreen and bug repellent were for her pores, and if they’d happened upon beautiful scenery, she was more interested in finding the best and most flattering angles for photographs than anything else. Her mind was always on how she could manipulate a situation to advance her influencer career, and while he’d met few women as self-motivated as she was, her antics had ruined his quiet appreciation of their surroundings. Hiking—technology-free, the way he preferred—just hadn’t been for her. And, apparently, neither was he.
They arrived in a parking area at the end of the gravel road and found it empty. Just the way he liked it. “We’re here.”
“Fantastic.” Brooke unclipped her belt, threw the door open and leapt out. “I can’t wait to get started.” She grabbed her backpack from the back seat, took a swig of water and puffed on her inhaler.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, just being careful.”
He hoped so, because while he could easily carry her down, there wasn’t a lot he could do if she were to have a severe asthma attack, other than cross his fingers and pray.
She hurried to the beginning of the track and read aloud from the sign. “Amber Saddle, three hours return.” She looked back to him. “You think I can manage three hours?”
“I do. It’s far less steep than what you did the other day, and there’s only the two of us, so we can stop any time you need a break.” He didn’t mind pausing every two minutes if that was what she needed, as long as he was able to enjoy the serenity that came with being in nature. She nodded, and stood to the side, waiting for him to lead the way. Hoisting his bag up, he gestured for her to go first.
“You’re the one who knows where we’re going,” she said.
“There’s a track,” he pointed out. “If you get lost here, you might have bigger problems with getting to Everest than your health and fitness.”
“Smart-ass,” she muttered. “You should take the lead. I’ll be slower, and I don’t want to get in your way.”
“The fact you’ll be slower is exactly why you should go first,” he said. “When you’re hiking, the slowest person should always set the pace so they don’t get left behind.”
Plus, if she were in front, he could keep an eye on her and make sure nothing was wrong, because he wasn’t one hundred percent sure she’d tell him. As an added benefit, he could watch her pert butt as they walked uphill.
“Okay. You make the rules.” Her tone was dubious. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
She started along the track, and he waited a respectable distance before following. It was best not to tailgate anyone in case branches disturbed by one person flicked back and walloped another in the face. He expected her to ask more questions or keep up her stream of dialogue, which seemed to need very little input from him, but she fell quiet as soon as they were beneath the canopy of the trees.
Despite her silence, she was anything but still. She tipped her head back and stared through the foliage, then gazed between the beech trees, at one point stopping to watch a wasp collect honeydew. Even when the wasp buzzed toward her and she had to leap out of its way, she didn’t say a word, just stared until it was gone from view, and then continued on. If he hadn’t been able to see her, or hear her breathing—which grew labored as the path became steeper—he wouldn’t have known she was there.
Fortunately, she seemed to have taken his comment about resting when she needed it to heart, and paused frequently to catch her breath. The first time she did, he instructed her to remain standing and face downhill so her legs didn’t become stiff. She complied without arguing, and they hadn’t exchanged more than a few words. It was disconcerting.