In Time (Play On Book 2) Read online

  “Oh right, you seemed offended.”

  “Aw, nah. I was just surprised at hearing it come from you. Because you’re”—she waved her hands in the air in a kooky clown sort of way—“you’re not like most guys.”

  That was nice of her to say but a bunch of bollocks. Rory had been an absolute twat last night, a typical guy taking advantage of the situation.

  “Well, we’ll just give it a go. I think I found a spot.” She smiled big at him before folding up the map. But she did it all wrong, pressing against the creases. She’d never get it back the way it was.

  Rory couldn’t stand it and grabbed it from her. “Here, let me.”

  “I always have a hard time refolding a map. Have no idea why. So I just kinda…wad it up.”

  How could anyone do that? His body shivered in revulsion. It was then he noticed she had a small pack on the chair by the table. “Should I bring anything?” He liked to be prepared.

  “Nope, just yourself.” Grace ducked her head and busied herself pulling on a pair of mittens. “I mean, I grabbed a couple of bottled waters, granola bars, and apples. Is that okay?”

  What about extra warm gear? Portable phone charger in case they got stuck somewhere and ran out of batteries, a waterproof bag, compass, swiss army knife, flint and tinder? “Aye.” But for him to leave it all in Grace’s hands was hard for Rory to do. He liked to define his parameters in life, leave little to chance, or even less to possible problems.

  She hiked the bag onto one shoulder. “Your car or mine?”

  That sounded sexy as hell. His eyes watered, and he swallowed hard. “I can drive.”

  “Good stuff, I’ll navigate.”

  When she passed him moving toward the foyer, he placed his hand gently at her back to steer her toward the door like his da did for his mum, but then dropped it immediately.

  She looked at him over her shoulder, but didn’t say a word. That was worse than if she would’ve winked at him and made a funny comment. Blew it off somehow. He was mucking all this up. Grace was his roommate and hopefully a friend. He wanted to be around her. She made him feel better, as if Grace herself had shifted the energy in the house to something bright and happy.

  At the door, he let her open it instead of doing it for her. He’d always been taught good manners, but he didn’t want to overwhelm her. He needed to play it cool. He needed to channel Del. Be all smooth and laid back. Make her laugh. Charm the knickers off her.

  Aw feck. Knickers. Grace. Grace without knickers. Rory took a deep breath and let it out.

  They bundled into his car. It took them over a half hour to find the trailhead. With Grace navigating, they got lost a couple of times. He didn’t have to think of conversation on the way over, try to be witty or intelligent since Grace kept up babble the entire ride, mostly with directions. A right here, another left. No, turn around. And she was always late telling him, so he’d miss the turns and had to backtrack.

  He should have just put the damn location into his phone, but Grace didn’t use one, so he wanted to let her do her own thing.

  The parking lot for the trailhead was empty. They were obviously the only ones hiking on a day like today—gray, dreary, cold. The wind had picked up and blew the clouds over them in a northeasterly direction. Most likely no snow, but a definite bite to the air.

  “Do you go hiking a lot?” Rory asked as he followed her into the woods.

  “As much as I can. I like being outside.”

  Rory nodded, although he couldn’t relate. He was an Edinburgh boy after all. “Yeah, it’s nice.”

  “More than that. I just feel better being outside.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah, life doesn’t seem so hard or serious…or something.”

  They were silent after that as Rory followed behind Grace as the path narrowed. When it opened up again, Rory stepped up beside her.

  Grace crouched suddenly and held up an imaginary rifle.

  “Grace, what’s wrong?”

  “Shhhh, I’m hunting wabbits.”

  A bit odd, but charming in its own way. Today she had worn a fuzzy orangish winter hat, and she looked so cute as to be edible. She didn’t seem to mind the silence, but it only took a question by Rory, and she’d be off jabbering like a jaybird. He had noticed that last night. But it was a relief for him since he rarely had to think of things to say. He could just sit back and listen to her all day.

  At a fallen log, he held out his hand to help her over. Even though the snow had melted from the other night, the trail was muddy, just as Del had predicted. There were whole sections of standing water they had to maneuver around by hiking into the woods.

  She was petite, so a big step over the tree for him was a mountain climb for her. She took it and smiled her gratitude. When she dropped to the other side, she didn’t let go of his hand.

  Not knowing what to do, Rory started walking again, her hand still in his. They both had gloves on, so it wasn’t intimate, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d held someone’s hand. There was no way in hell he’d be caught doing this in Scotland around his mates. There it was all about bravado and sex. Getting a shag.

  She must have sensed his uncertainty since she asked, “Does it bother you that I’m holding your hand?”

  “Not really.”

  She nudged him with her shoulder. “Ah, but it does. I can tell.”

  “I’m just not used to it.”

  She swung their hands back and forth like a pendulum. “I’m not either, but before I moved here, I promised myself I would go all out to try more stuff.”

  “Holding hands is more?”

  Grace shrugged. “It is if you haven’t done it before. Or not much, at least. It’s like our generation has given up on all that good romance stuff to go straight to the sex part.”

  Just like last night. But it had been her idea. Initially, then he was all over that. Time for a change in subject. “So what else did you promise yourself?”

  Dropping his hand, Grace stopped to examine some indentations in the trail. It all looked the same to Rory, but she shifted a soggy leaf out the way to get a better examination of something. She pointed. “See these tracks?”

  Animal tracks? “Not really, but I believe you.”

  She snuffed a laugh out her nose before tracing the largest track shape. “This is a large buck deer that passed through here.” She glanced right, then left. “You can see where a cross trail goes right through this one.”

  “Ah, I get it.”

  She made a face at him, all pinched brows and puckered lips. “Not much of hunter?”

  Rory shook his head. “The only kind of hunting we do in Scotland is with horses and hounds. You know, fox hunting. And I wasn’t into that. Not many are these days.”

  “Oh, really? That kinda sounds cool. It’s going to go on my list of things to try.” She rose from her crouch and started walking again, but didn’t take his hand this time. A mix of relief and disappointment warred a moment inside Rory, but then it was quickly extinguished when they came to the top of the trail.

  In front of them was a view of the lakeshore. Buildings speckled the shoreline, but beyond them a majestic blue stretched to the horizon. When Rory first moved here, he had thought of Lake Michigan as just any other freshwater loch like they had in Scotland. Cold, a bit murky. Often deep. He’d never expected the sea-expanse when it first greeted him. The lake was so large you couldn’t see across, so it felt like you were standing on an ocean beach. It even had a small tide, he had learned. Today, whitecaps were abundant, the waves crashing along the shore. Unfortunately, they were too far away to hear. And all fresh water. No salt. Almost incomprehensible.

  Grace stepped up next to him. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Aye.”

  She nudged him with her shoulder. “We’re pretty lucky to be here.”

  Aye. Better with Grace.

  The wind at the top blew fierce, buffeting their bodies on the cliff edge. Grace took off he
r knitted beanie cap and let the wind take her hair. She spread her arms, took a step closer to the edge, and puffed out her chest.

  Rory wanted to yank her back. She was too close. It wasn’t safe.

  “Isn’t this amazing? We’re the only ones up here. We could scream at the top of our lungs, we could dance naked, we could take a flying leap!” Grace removed her scarf so that it trailed from her hand like a colorful windsock. She stepped closer to the edge.

  His stomach twisted. “Don’t go so close.”

  She ignored him. She looked happy, even though she wasn’t smiling, her face turned to the sky. He tried to enjoy the view, but time again, his gaze drifted back to Grace. Her right foot was mere inches from the edge, and when her foot inched forward again, she kicked dirt and bits of rubble over the side. A big gust of wind attacked them, and with a whoop, she leaned into it, her body hovering over the cliff. The wind just had to die suddenly, and she would plunge to her death.

  His heart raced. “Grace, get back!”

  “Live a little, Roreeee!” she yelled. “Come on, do it with me!” Her hair streamed behind her. Her cheeks were red, her eyes glistening.

  No way in hell. And just as Rory was about to step forward to grab her, Grace moved back and dropped her arms. This time Rory did pull her back so that she was well away from the brink.

  She only laughed. “I take it you don’t like heights.”

  “No’ really.”

  Her face was flushed with excitement, her eyes teary from the wind. “Rory, you got to live a little. Or live a lot. Live big with me!” She wrapped her arms around his middle and gave him a bear hug. “We don’t want to look back when we’re old and have regrets, do we?

  No, but there was a difference in living life to the fullest and carpe-ing the crazy. But he didn’t get a chance to say before she answered her own question. “Absolutely not.”

  She disengaged, wrapped her scarf with an extravagant throw over her shoulder, replaced her hat on her head, and walked over to where she’d left her pack. “Should we go then?”

  Rory’s head spun. He couldn’t keep up with her. From her movements to her chatter to her changes in direction.

  Grace pulled out the map from her pack and compared it to an enlarged version on a wooden placard. “We can either do the shorter route back to the car to the right…which is about one more mile, or the one on the left goes for two.” She glanced up at the sky, the clouds now parting, allowing in bits of sun. “Well, what do you think?”

  Since they had stopped, a chill had settled in his arms and chest. If they kept moving, they’d be all right, and he could replace this exercise for what he should have been doing in the gym. “I’m up for the longer one if you are.”

  She had been digging in her pack while Rory considered and pulled out two granola bars. They were the cheap kind with lots of preservatives and chocolate chips, but something was better than nothing. He took the one she offered and thanked her. Then she handed him a bottled water.

  As she pulled the pack up to her shoulder, Rory took it from her. “Here, let me carry it for a bit.” When he put it on his back, it wasn’t heavy, but it was small on him.

  She laughed. “You look like a kindergartener heading to school.” She moved around to his back and tugged the straps to release them. They ate their bars in silence, still soaking in the view, and after a couple of sips loaded the rubbish and bottles back into the pack.

  They set off. Rory hadn’t even bothered to look at the map, trusting Grace would lead them on the hike. She was the outdoorsy type, all Jennifer Lawrence from the Hunger Games. Maybe she even hunted with a bow. That was kind of hot, a serious turn-on. Rory subtly adjusted himself as he walked behind Grace, which he’d been doing most of the hike. He’d missed most of the forest scenery with his eyes on her bum, all round and perky, totally visible through the stretchy black leggings.

  Just as he was adjusting himself again, Grace turned and walked backward in front of him. Nice timing. She smirked. “You all right there?”

  “Aye, good.”

  Grace was still walking backward. They were on a straightaway, but going slightly downhill around the crest of the hill. And as if his worry had triggered a response, Grace tripped on a root and, arms flailing, went down hard. Rory jogged to her, the stuff in the backpack shifting and jingling as he did. He held out his hand.

  Lying on her back in the mud, she groaned but didn’t reach for his hand.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, just a bit of a bruised ego, nothing else.”

  She finally accepted his help, and he hoisted her up. As soon as he did, she started wiping herself down of dirt and leaves.

  “Did you need any help?”

  Grace laughed and turned her back to him. “There is a spot on my butt I can’t reach.”

  “Uhhh.”

  “I’m just kiddin’! I wouldn’t ask you to do that.”

  Disappointment. She had just asked him to touch her fine arse. He had taken her request seriously. Of course, he took everything seriously.

  After she had patted herself down, they just stood there facing each other. He didn’t know what to say to her. He hated awkward moments like this. Rory never knew what to say. That was half his problem. He started moving, jerking from one foot to the other, looking out at the woods around them. The bare limbs of the trees, all the brown and gray. Dreary, a bit sad.

  With a hand on his arm, she stilled him and redirected his gaze back to hers. “Thanks for your concern, though. The boys I hang out with back home would’ve had a good laugh at my expense. They would’ve made jokes and passed right by me.”

  Those boys in Texas sounded like fucking cunts.

  “In some ways, I kinda appreciate that now. It’s made me tougher, you know?”

  He didn’t, but their cultures were worlds apart. Maybe it had made her tougher, the teasing, but he’d had enough to last him a lifetime. He knew what it was like to be a target. Since he never defended himself, everyone felt that he was open game. Just because he didn’t respond to their antagonizing, didn’t mean he was fucking stupid or they had a right to think they knew who Rory was. He just didn’t care what they thought. “I’m happy to give you a break from having to be tough.”

  Her eyes grew round, and her mouth hung open. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever, and I mean ever, said to me.”

  Rory’s ears turned hot under the Blues skull cap he was wearing.

  “Rory…” Her voice was quiet as she grabbed his other hand.

  The wind whistled through the branches, feathering the loose hair from under her hat across her face. She pulled it away, her eyes never leaving his own. Then she stepped forward, stood up on her tiptoes, and pressed her mouth to his. So soft, way better than last night when everything was all a blur. She paused, just like that, not moving, her lips against his, as if waiting for something. Oh! That was him. Fucking cop on, Rory boy! Del’s voice was loud in his head, but he didn’t want to share this moment with any of those the Blues, especially Del.

  He pulled her in closer, wrapping his arms around tight, and Grace responded immediately, moving once again, her lips pecking soft kisses along his mouth. That alone made him hard. He should keep the space between them, but when Grace cuddled in closer, aligning her body along his, he couldn’t resist. He slipped his hands to her bum and pulled her into his crotch. Holy fuck. Her round ass under his hands, her stomach against his dick.

  When she let off a small groan, Rory was done. He deepened the kiss, stroking his tongue into her mouth. When she pulled back a bit, Rory stopped. Fuck, he wasn’t a good kisser. That must be it. Too much tongue, too forceful, probably fucking gagged her.

  She lay a soft peck onto his mouth.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She leaned back and gave him one of those pinched eyebrow looks. “Sunshine, what are you apologizing for?”

  Rory forced a weak laugh. “Well, just in case I did anything wrong.”

&
nbsp; “I kissed you first, so I think you’re okay.”

  “I mean how I kissed you.”

  Grace snuggled into Rory, her breasts pressed up against his chest. He held her tighter so she’d rub against his erection. It felt so good. And when she leaned in and nipped his earlobe, his hard-on became painful.

  She whispered at his ear, “That was the best kiss I’ve ever had.”

  That was his undoing. After she pulled his earlobe into her mouth and sucked, Rory turned into a haze of want. Desire to put his hands on her. Everywhere. Anywhere she’d allow.

  He kissed her again, and Grace responded. If he could consume her, he would, she tasted that good, still a flavor of chocolate on her tongue.

  Slowly, he trailed one hand up her side to rest just under her breast. He wanted to squeeze so badly, massage the mound of flesh, tug at her nipple, see if it would peak through her big fleece. But was he reading the signs right? She seemed to be into it as much as him, her mouth working over his, her tongue flicking his lightly and then plunging. But after last night, he’d follow her lead.

  Fuck, he was so turned on.

  Grace pushed off the straps of the backpack so it dropped to the ground behind him. When he took her right breast into his hand, he couldn’t stop the groan from escaping. Her kisses became feverish, more urgent, so he palmed her left bum cheek and then squeezed against his erection at the same time as his hand on her breast.

  It made him crazy. He wanted more, to tear into her. He ripped his mouth away from hers to suck down her neck, nudging her scarf away as he did. The fuzz tickled his nose but not enough to move his lips from her body.

  “Oh, my lawd, Rory,” she said.

  He ran his thumb over her nipple until it beaded. Even through all her layers. He kept working it until she was arching against him, pressing her groin into his. When he pinched her tight nipple, she gasped.

  He was still sucking on her neck and shoulder when it started to rain. Just a few patters that he tried to ignore, but when it came down harder, the icy wetness on his face snapped him out of his haze of lust like a cold shower.