“A beach bum? You keep calling me that.”
“You’ve lived on the California coast for the past eight years. Ergo, beach bum. Do you need help back to your car?”
He smiles.
Full-on smiles with his whole, entire face.
Just like he did in Hawaii. I gesture to his whole head, encompassing every part of the grin. “Put that away. I’m playing dirty and I am now immune.”
He ignores me. “You ever seen a beach bum this pasty?” He points to the very small area of his face where I can actually see his skin. It’s basically just his upper cheeks and his nose.
The rest of him is covered in beard, hat, scarf, coat, gloves, jeans, and boots.
He looks like a J.Crew catalog model.
But taller.
And no, I don’t know how tall J.Crew models usually are. I just know this man is toweringly tall, with massive hands and feet and other parts that I am actively not thinking about.
“Maybe you have an excellent skin care routine,” I say.
“No, you’re confusing me with Zen again.”
Other than both of them being taller than me, that’s not possible, and I almost give in and laugh.
But only almost.
I do not have the emotional bandwidth for attraction to this man when I know he’s going to hate me very, very soon.
I don’t know if I even have the emotional bandwidth to be his friend.
Jitter finally succeeds in pulling me all the way next to his new favorite person, where he pushes his body against Grey firmly enough that Grey slips again.
“You need to go home,” I tell him.
“Wanted some fresh air.”
“Here?”
“Yes.”
“How often have you been to this trail?”
“Haven’t. Yet. Why I’m here now.”
“So you followed me.”
“I saw you pulling over here and wanted to do a good deed and make sure you weren’t wading into a property war between Mr. Avocado and Mrs. Marshmallow Fluff.”
He’s doing it again.
He’s being Duke, and it’s both my favorite thing ever and also what puts me on guard. I sigh softly and shove my hair back out of my face as the wind rustles it. “I can’t find anything else on Chandler and I am now playing dirty. Go away.”
“Can a guy not simply want to go hiking on treacherous ice and snow with a captivating woman?”
“No.” Because I don’t trust myself to not throw myself at him and confess what I’ve done, which will ruin the entire impact. “Jitter. C’mon, boy. We’re going for a hike, and Grey’s going to learn the hard way that tourists are a mountain lion’s favorite snack.”
Jitter harrumphs at me, then lies down on the path right at Grey’s feet.
Grey shrugs. “Hate to tell you, but if Jitter wants me, there’s nothing I can do to stop him.”
He knows.
He absolutely knows I called his grandmother, and he is going to torture me with pretending he doesn’t until I cave and tell him that Ms. Hot Mess on the Beach called his grandmother.
I stare at him.
He stares back like he knows this is the start of a staring contest, and he knows I’ll win, but he also won’t make it easy on me.
And he doesn’t.
My eyes are burning and freezing at the same time before he breaks, though he doesn’t so much break as he speaks while also holding me captive with his bright blue eyes. “May I please join you so as to not offend your dog?”
“You hate the cold,” I remind him.
“Says who?”
“Says my powers of observation.”
He shrugs, palms up and everything. “You’re not wrong. But your dog wants me to come, so I have to suck it up. I don’t make the rules. Jitter does.”
I pull in a massive breath through my nose, then blow it out slowly, feeling myself giving in to what I want when I know just how dangerous it is.
And I’m not talking about him walking on this path in those boots, which he truly cannot do.
Too much ice.
And his jeans will get soaked, and I’ll have to carry him back when he passes out from the cold.
“Is stress the only reason you get lightheaded?” I ask.
“That’s what my doctor suspects at this point.”
“Are you drinking enough water?”
“Have you met Zen? Tall, slender, blond hair, pain in the ass? My self-appointed personal assistant who would leap in front of a speeding train to stop it if they thought it might veer offtrack and possibly scuff one of my fingernails wrong? You think they’ll let me get away with not drinking enough water?”