Tell Me You Love Me Page 4

  “Better late than never,” she says, a slight hitch in her breath.

  “Yeah, I guess.” I want to say something. I want to get to know her. Learn what makes her smile. What makes her laugh or get angry. But I feel like a thirteen-year-old boy trying to get something out, but my tongue is tied. I exhale a deep breath and finally say, “Damn. This hill is going to kill me. It sucks.” The only thing I like about it is that there’s a trail and I don’t have to cut through trees and brush to get to the top. I pull at the hem of my shirt and bring it toward my face to wipe the sweat.

  Lizzy’s gaze glides down my torso. Her cheeks flush a bright shade of pink again and her brows rise. She shakes her head, looking away. Nice. I like it. She was totally checking me out again and I’m pretty sure she likes what she sees. “You can say that again.” She laughs. “I call it the Hill of Death. I can’t imagine it bothers you much. Look at you, probably not an ounce of fat on your body. I doubt you’ll be out of breath before we reach the top.”

  “What are you talking about? I’m out of breath now.” And I am. This hike is a beast. I don’t mention that I’ve already sprinted up and down the damn thing twice. I’m not one to kill a woman’s mojo.

  She shakes her head and rolls her eyes in the back of her head. “You’re just saying that to be nice because I look like I’m about to pass out.”

  The words surprise me. Why would I try to be nice with a comment like that? “No. I’m serious. If we didn’t stop to chat with you ladies at the midpoint on training days, it would totally suck not to have a break. The cold water is a nice touch, too. I just hope we don’t get caught one day.” I laugh to myself. I could just picture the chief driving up to observe our PT and see us hanging with a bunch of neighborhood women. We’d be humping up this damn hill on a daily basis in full gear with hoses and air packs at about two o’clock in the afternoon just when the sun is the hottest.

  She holds her hand above her eyes, shading her view from the sun as she looks up at me. It’s the first time I notice how short she is. Her personality is so much bigger than her stature. She might reach my shoulders if she’s lucky.

  “Whatever you say, Ryan.” Her breaths are heavier, but she continues pushing up the hill. I don’t say much. I can tell she’s at that point where she will be panting if she has to carry on a full-blown conversation.

  When we reach the top, I’m relieved. I don’t know which makes me feel better...the fact I can finally rest and cool down or that I can finally get a chance to talk to her. I’ve never been one to believe in love at first sight and all that sappy mumbo jumbo, but there is definitely something about Lizzy that draws me to her. She’s just funny and easy going. It’s refreshing, and so unusual, I can’t seem to help myself.

  “Whew,” she sighs. She rests her hands on top of her head, taking slow deep breaths before speaking again. “That kicked my ass.”

  And what a sweet ass that is. Shit. I can’t think about her ass right now. Fireman with a boner. Remember? I bet that would be frowned upon.

  “Mine, too,” I tell her. “I should’ve brought more water with me. I was so hot about half-way up, I poured the last of my bottle over my head to cool off.”

  She tosses me a hot pink Nalgene plastic bottle about two-thirds full. “Here, I have plenty. I don’t mind sharing unless you think I have cooties.”

  Cooties? I’d bathe in her cooties if she let me. “Thank you.” I flip the cap off and bring the drink to my lips. The water is nice and fresh and does the trick. Instantly, I feel much better. I lick my lips and, immediately, I can taste her. Cherry Chapstick, but fruitier. It reminds me of the taste of that shiny gloss all the girls would wear in middle school. Only Lizzy tastes like a cherry-topped sundae. And who doesn’t crave ice cream?

  “Thank you.” I pass the large bottle back to her. “So what brings you out here in the middle of the afternoon?”

  She walks away from me and takes a seat under a small shade structure. This spot may have been planned out as a picnic area, but it’s rather small. It may be enough room for a small family, but nothing more. I follow her lead and sit down beside her, a foot or so separating us.

  “I’ve been trying to get out and on the trail at least three times a week. Today happened to be one of those days.” She turns her head and glances in my direction. She’s so cute all red in the face trying to steady her breathing. And her outfit is hot. She’s wearing charcoal gray spandex pants. The cropped ones that show off her sexy calves. Her sassy pink tank has black letters scrawled out across her front. I want to see what it says but I also don’t want to fixate my eyes on her full breasts. Well, I want to...but I know I shouldn’t.

  “Well, I’m glad I caught up with you.” My elbows rest back on the table and my legs stretch out in front of me. My back has been bothering me and it’s nice to stretch it out. “You were hauling ass up this mountain. You looked like you were on a mission.”

  Again, she glances my way. This time her gaze trails along the length of my body and it’s almost as if I can feel her fingers rake across my skin. Shit. The thought forces me to lean forward and relax my arms on my knees. If she keeps looking at me like that, I’m never going to be able to stand again. As much as I try to focus on something else, my dick has a mind of its own and it’s growing with each glance her way. Shit.

  “Sometimes, I get in a zone, depending on the music that comes though my iPod.” She wiggles her ear buds in the air. “And sometimes, it takes me forever to reach the top because I’m too busy dancing my way up and singing along.”

  Funny thing is I can totally picture it. “I’d love to see that side of you again sometime.”

  “Only if you sing along.” Her brows rise up and down.

  I lean into her and nudge my shoulder into her arm. The brief contact is enough to send my hormones on high alert, as if they weren’t already. To say that innocent touch was a spark would be a sad excuse for an adjective. Her eyes meet mine as she sucks in a breath and holds it. There’s no mistaking it. She feels it, too. Instant chemistry. “Anytime.”

  We sit in silence for a bit before Lizzy startles me out of my indecent thoughts.

  She slaps her hand down on my forearm. “Hold on a sec. I just thought of something.” My skin sizzles with her touch. “You were on duty all night, after a twenty-four-hour shift, and came out for a run instead of going home and getting some rest?”

  I shake off her concerns. “It’s not like I was awake for twenty-four hours straight. I did get some rest throughout the night.” I think back to my last gig. “More rest than I’m used to. So I’m good. The run will help me relax so when I do go home, I can go to sleep.” It hits me that I haven’t spent this much time talking to a woman since my ex. And that was over two years ago. It’s not like I’ve been a priest, but talking isn’t what comes to mind when I think about the ways I’ve spent some of my nights since. “So what do you have on here?” I tap on the iPod fixed to her arm in a holster, hoping I can change the subject.

  “Why? Do you want me to sing for you again?” A quick chuckle escapes her. It must not be a secret after all, that she’s not going to be the next Carrie Underwood. Although, she’s just as beautiful.

  “Not today. I think once is enough.” It feels easy to joke with her. I’m not afraid I’m going to hurt her feelings and that’s a relief.

  “Oh really. Care to sing for me? I think I should get the opportunity to critique your vocals if you’re already judging mine.” She giggles. Really giggles. It makes me smile inside and instantly I want to smack myself for feeling like such a girl.

  “Maybe some other time. Give me a chance to prepare something.”

  “I’ll hold you to that, so don’t think you’re getting off easy.” The sound of Velcro rips through the air as she pulls the band from her upper arm and starts tapping on her iPod. “I have just about everything.”

  She pauses while she scrolls through her library. I take advantage of the topic and get closer so I can see he
r screen. It’s hot out and we’re both sweaty, but her scent makes me drunk with lust. It’s as if it was made just for me, to cloud my brain with sexy thoughts and make me want her, desire her.

  Seriously, Ryan? What the hell is your problem? What the fuck has gotten into you?

  She continues. “I love Country, Classic Rock, Pop, you name it.” She rattles off some of her favorite groups, her voice becoming more and more animated the more she shares.

  I’m surprised to find our tastes are very similar. I’ll listen to just about anything as long as I can hum along and tap my foot. Although, I’m not a big fan of heavy metal.

  “The only thing I don’t have is heavy metal.”

  “Yeah. Neither do I. None of that screamer shit, either. You know the kind where they just grunt or growl into the microphone?”

  “Totally. That’s so dumb.” She rolls her eyes.

  It’s not the first time I’ve caught her doing that. On most girls, it would come off as condescending or rude. But with Lizzy, it’s different. It’s just fucking cute.

  “So what kind of music do you like, Ryan?”

  “Well, I definitely don’t have your extensive collection of boy bands.”

  She cracks up. “I do have an addiction. From The Beatles to One Direction. I can’t help it.”

  “No. You did not just mention The Beatles in the same sentence as those prepubescent dweebs?” My face twists in complete horror.

  “Come on, you know you like them.”

  I hold up my hand to stop her, but then I put it down, my head hanging in shame. “Okay, you got me. I’ve been known to sing a mean rendition of ‘What Makes You Beautiful.’”

  Now, she’s really laughing. Like falling off the bench and snorting laughing. She has to wipe the tears from her eyes with her fingers as I reach for her elbow to steady her. She inhales audibly at my touch and then starts laughing again...at either my 1D karaoke skills or her reaction to my fingers on her skin. I’m not sure which. There’s no question she’s affected by my touch.

  “I’m glad I can be your joke for the day,” I tease. And I’d be her joke any day of the week just to see her let go like that and laugh until she loses her breath. Watching her eyes close as her smile gets brighter is enough to make me grin like a lucky son of a bitch for the rest of the day. Fuck, I really do need to slap the shit out of myself. When did I become such a pussy?

  When Lizzy finally settles down, she asks again, “So really, what kind of music do you listen to?”

  I smile down at her wondering how she might react to my response. “Believe it or not, our iPods could be twins. We definitely have the same taste in music.”

  “I wonder what else we have in common?” It comes out as a murmur. If I wasn’t sitting so close I may not have heard her.

  “What was that?” My right brow arches suggestively.

  Instantly, Lizzy’s hand covers her mouth. “Oh shoot. I can’t believe I said that aloud.”

  I can’t help it. I have to touch her again. I bump my shoulder into hers again. “Don’t worry about it. I was thinking the same thing.”

  Suddenly, she’s on her feet. A worried look fills her eyes and she’s shaking her head. “Hey, I gotta go.”

  “Really?” I stand too. “So soon?”

  “Yeah.” She looks up at me, her eyes meeting mine. But just as quickly her gaze falls to the ground.

  She seems nervous about something. I want to ask her about it, but then I catch sight of her shirt. I can’t help reading the words spelled out across the front of her chest. They make me smile, and hell if I can’t look away. I chuckle a bit, not really meaning for her to hear.

  “What?” She gives me her attention again. Her eyes widen when she realizes where I’m staring. “Oh.”

  “Me, too.” I tell her, because really...I do.

  Now, she puts her hands on her hips, laughing a little. Although, it seems like she’s laughing at me, like she’s amused by some inside joke I’m not in on. “Really? You like to read big books?” She seems amused by this line of questioning.

  I look down at her shirt again, a smile spreading across my face as I shake my head. “Oops.” I hold out my hands like a little boy who just spilled his juice.

  She laughs again. “It says,” she points at the letters as she reads them aloud, “I Like Big Books and I Cannot Lie.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought it said,” I lie, trying to hide my grin, but my self-control fails me.

  “Yeah, I bet,” she says as she turns to walk away. “See you later, Mr. I like big boobs and I cannot lie. Or should I call you Mr. Boob-Man?”

  Before I can answer, she’s already several feet away and I’m speechless. Her hips sway back and forth as she plugs her earbuds into her ears and bops her head to the beat of a song. I can’t help admiring what I see.

  If she only knew, I’m a total ass man.

  My own ass stays planted on the bench for several minutes after Lizzy’s gone. I can’t see her anymore, but that doesn’t mean I have stopped thinking about her—which is batshit crazy considering I hardly know the woman. Knowing she climbs this hill every day even if it almost kills her and knowing what’s on her iPod doesn’t really classify us as friends even. It’s just that there is something about her. Some inexplicable thing that makes me feel shit. Shit I haven’t felt in a really long time. It’s weird. Just fucking weird.

  * * *

  I’ve had about enough of these girly feelings swirling around in my brain. So much so, I call Justin to gather up the guys for a round of paintball. The need to release some energy and get my heart pumping is building inside me. When I made the decision to come back home, I knew my life as a firefighter would be different. Working in a small town is definitely not the same as the constant grind of working a hotshot crew. It’s not that it’s better or worse, it’s just different. Less busy, meaning more time to get inside my head. Or more time for this woman to get in my head.

  “Good call, dude,” Jesse says. “We haven’t done this shit in a long time.”

  It surprises me. When I was a kid and until I left, I used to come up here all the time with my friends—Justin included. It’s the only paintball park for miles and miles. People travel hours to get here, and we all live but fifteen minutes away. Tucked inside a canyon, the park is insane. If you don’t want to get beaned, you have to quickly climb up hills and take cover like you’re on a freaking military mission.

  In fact, we look like a bunch of veterans, armed with enough weapons and ammunition to paint a high-rise. Not to mention the desert camo we’re all sporting. Justin’s dad used to call bullshit on us when we were younger, telling us we should stop acting like girls, get some balls, and enlist in the Marine Corp. To him, paintballing didn’t come close to being a real soldier. Or Marine—according to him and every other Marine I know, there’s a difference.

  “Get with your teams. We’re going to start in less than five,” Justin calls out.

  We’re on the same team, along with three others from the house. Owen, Jesse, and three more make up the other team. Justin tells me Jesse is trigger-happy and is packing more pods of balls than the rest of us put together. The guy cracks me up, looking like Rambo with black ink smeared across his face. Once he starts running and dripping with sweat, the shit is going to get in his eyes and he’ll regret trying to look like a badass. He should know better.

  Owen is serious, just like he is at the station. He checks and rechecks all his equipment. Then, he heads in the direction of the practice range and fires at a few targets. Spot on bull’s eyes each time. Fuck me, we have some competition with him. Thank God, I know he’ll play fair. My nuts relax with relief.

  I glance down at my watch. “Let’s go,” I say, taking off in the direction of the starting line.

  The guys follow, pulling on their masks over their eyes and taking deep breaths.

  Shit is about to go down. This is just the adrenaline rush I needed.

  From the word go,
both teams take off in varying directions. It’s not long before shots are being fired and signals are called out.

  “Hold that lane!”

  “Head’s up!”

  “He’s in my mirror!”

  Justin hits two of the other players in a matter of seconds. Then Owen nabs two of ours. Three on three now with no signs of the game slowing down. I keep moving to their flag, noting where Owen is while my teammates cover me. Owen sticks out like a sore thumb. The camo doesn’t help hide his size.

  Running, climbing, shooting, ducking for cover. The terrain flies by me in a blur as paintballs whiz past. It seems like they’re coming at me in all directions. As I’m just about to reach their flag, I catch sight of their other guy and hit him in the left shoulder. Score. Then, just when I think we have it in the bag, I’m hit in the back. Justin is hit in the chest. And Jesse captures our fucking flag. How in the hell did that happen?

  “Not bad for a trigger-happy son of a bitch, huh?” Jesse says as we reconvene before a second game.

  “Fuck you, lucky bastard,” Justin tells him.

  “Best two out of three, little man. Don’t get too cocky,” I tease. He’s the smallest out of all of us. Not that six feet nothin’ constitutes little, but it’s fun to rib him anyway.

  “Loser buys the beer,” Owen says.

  We all nod as we drain some water from our canisters and try to catch our breath. This is one of the best workouts I’ve had since I’ve been home. And not once did I think about that hot little redhead.

  Well, fuck me.

  That didn’t last long.

  Not long at all.

  * * *

  “Looks like you spoke too soon,” I tell Jesse, punching him softly on the shoulder. “We’ll take a pitcher of Stella.”

  “And why don’t you add a few shots, too?” Justin says. “I’m not working tonight.” None of us are, but he’s talking about his other job. He works as private security in the city for some high-class clubs. He’s the go-to VIP guy for most A-listers. We’ve never been to any of the places he works, not that we’d ever make the guest list.