STILL WATERS
/¯\/¯\/¯\/¯\/¯\
CHAPTER 5
WEDNESDAY, MAY 26
"Mountain therapy," day 6
Well, that was interesting.
Now I have a whole new list of reasons to avoid Edward. Oreoward. Edworeo.
Lying low today. Maybe I'll reread a classic, spend time with an old book friend or two. Safer that way. Surely I can stay out of trouble for one last day. Then tomorrow morning, I pack up my Mini—again—and head back to civilization and stress and looking for a "serious" job.
.
.
.
Edward was gone when I woke up.
I could only imagine what he must think of me now. Foolish girl. Too much sun, too much wine.
8:37 a.m. My best effort yet. Seems I'd found the secret to sleeping in: not sleeping all night. Not my healthiest discovery. The night from hell had finally ended, and I had survived. I'd even managed to fortify myself for the day ahead with fluid and ibuprofen, which was the only reason I was able to move without the world spinning out from under my feet.
Thanks to Edward.
I kicked off the blankets and fluffed up the soggy sheets. This bed, this room, needed a major airing out. I opened a window on the courtyard side and propped open the patio door to the mountains. A merciful cross-breeze swept through, fluttering the curtains and bringing with it the promise of renewal.
Edward would be in full-on thrashing mode by now. I pictured him hacking away with his scythe, falling over in an exhausted heap for lack of sleep. Stop picturing Edward.
Right.
Coffee and greasy food were in order. First, a shower.
I pushed back the curtain and reached in to turn on the hot water. There, folded neatly over the faucet, was the washcloth he'd pressed against my neck, held to my forehead. Refreshed with cool water from the sink more times than I could count. Each time without comment or complaint.
I pictured him squeezing out the washcloth one last time and tactfully draping it here. Come to think of it, everything was in its place this morning, all the evidence erased. The drinking glass neatly set by the sink. The towel he'd placed on the floor so I'd have a soft place to kneel . . . folded and hung on its rack. All those tissues he'd handed me and taken back . . . after I'd . . . ugh.
The guy was a saint or something.
Yeah, definitely the kind you want to stay away from. Good job there.
I stepped under the hot stream. The needles of water hit my sunburned skin like a million tiny spears. I washed and rinsed my hair as quickly as I could and dabbed my skin dry with a towel that felt like sandpaper. I pulled my hair through a ponytail holder and threw on some shorts and a tank, slid my toes into my flip-flops, and set out down the hall to breakfast.
A door slammed somewhere behind me, and a rough voice called out, "Well, will you look what the mountain lion dragged in?"
Mike, the fucking motor mouth. Fuck. I spun around as his footsteps approached. I'd completely put Mike and his ugly threats out of my mind, but now that I caught sight of him, the fear was back in full force.
He wasn't dressed for hiking, and he sure as hell wasn't dressed for quiet meditation. He was on a rampage. I stepped aside, and as he barreled past me, he snapped out, "Hope you and Paul Bunyan had a wonderful time last night."
I picked up my pace and followed him into the lobby, my heart banging against my rib cage. This whole thing was my fault, and I wouldn't let Edward take the fall.
By the time I reached the reception area, Mike was already throwing a major tantrum, screaming and waving his arms and making a huge scene, while Emmett was giving him the universal hands held up in surrender and attempting to calm him down. Whatever vicious lies Mike was spreading, I would set the record straight.
"Hey! Excuse m—"
Rosalie hooked her elbow around my arm and forcefully walked me to the opposite side of the lobby. "You're looking well this morning, Bella."
"Rosalie, I need to talk to Emmett. Mike's being—"
"An ass?" She smiled at my dumbfounded response. "Yes, we're aware. It won't do you any good to involve yourself in that mess."
"Is Edward okay? I mean, you didn't fire him or anything, did you?"
"Pshh." Rosalie waved her hand in front of us as if pushing that silliest of all silly ideas far away. "Edward is fine . . . though he was pretty concerned about you this morning. In fact, he made me promise to check on you if you hadn't surfaced by nine, but I'm glad to see that won't be necessary." She had me positioned with my back to the scene at the desk, and she was keeping a close watch over my shoulder.
"Oh, he did, eh? He can be a bit bossy, that one."
"Mmhmm. They're all like that, all three brothers. Especially when they care deeply about something. They're very passionate." She gave me a pointed smile, then turned my shoulders toward the front door, where I caught the tail end of Mike's suitcase wheeling away. "You see? It's taken care of."
I spun around in her arms and caught her in a tight hug. "Thank you."
"Of course, sweetie. Go put some food into your stomach. You must be starved."
.
.
.
The classics shelf was my one genre contribution to the White Mountain Resort, and I knew just where to find my old . . . Wait a second, now . . . what the hell?
No, I did not. Because at some point since Edward and I had reorganized these books three days ago, someone had obviously been tinkering in our sacred space.
What. The. Fuck?
Were those hand-written labels? Holy shit! These bookshelves were not simply organized by genre, but the genres themselves were in alphabetical order, starting with Adventure at the very top. There was only one person I knew of who could even reach that shelf . . . Why, Edward Cullen, what have you been doing in your spare time? And when did he even—
Of course! Last night, while I was drowning myself in wine, Edward had been in here, all clean and fresh and yummy in his non-trail clothes. And he wasn't just sitting in here twiddling his beautiful thumbs; he was finishing what we'd started together as he'd promised that night. Well, I'll be!
Classics, second shelf. Fantasy. Mystery. Romance. Science Fiction. And there at the bottom, Young Adult. Bless his fiction-loving heart. My fingers caressed the romance row, picturing the grimace he must have worn as he ordered the many Anne Rice and Nora Roberts titles. Oh, poor Edward.
Stop picturing Edward.
Right.
While the fiction section enjoyed a perfect—to my eye—state of completion, its nonfiction counterpoint was quite the mess. I stepped around a line of books toward the corner, where more stacks sat in seemingly random piles on the floor. No rhyme or reason to what was unshelved, except . . . of course! These were simply the titles that happened to have been on the top three shelves, which he'd been systematically emptying when he was so rudely interrupted—by me and my drunken display! Of course it hadn't registered in my alcohol-addled brain last night, but now that I had figured out what he'd been up to . . . I had a little surprise in store for Edward Cullen.
.
.
.
My airtight plan had one gaping hole: I had assumed Edward would be returning from his hard day of trail clearing just before sunset, which gave me a solid chunk of the afternoon to finish what he'd started. Imagine my surprise when he burst through the library door at 4:15.
"Bella! I've been looking everywhere for you. I finally tracked down Rose, and she told me I'd find you in here." He seemed frozen in place, his eyes fixed on me. "How do you feel?"
"I'm fine. Much better, thanks to you."
"What are you doing in here?" He shook off his backpack and stepped into the room. "This was supposed to be a surprise!"
I was busted. He was busted, too. We were busted together.
"Edward, this was a lovely surprise, and I appreciate it. I discovered it by accident this morning when I came in looking for something to read. When I saw what you'd started, I decided to surprise you back by finishing the nonfiction section, but clearly, you've now ruined my surprise."
He laughed as he perused the shelves I'd worked on, hands on his hips, shaking his head at both of us. "It's the thought that counts, right?"
"Well, now we can finish together. I was having trouble reaching the top shelf anyway."
"No, Bella, we can't finish right now." He stepped closer and took my hands in his. His eyes were suddenly wide and excited. "I need to show you something."
"Right now?"
"Yes! We need to hurry. I practically ran the whole way back here so I could pick you up. It won't be safe if we wait too much longer."
"Edward, you're not making any sense. Where are you taking me, and why won't it be safe?"
"It will be completely safe, of course. I've already gotten Emmett and Rose's signoff on this. Now I just need you."
"For what?"
"I finished cutting the trail today. I need to show you."
"You do know it's going to start getting dark soon, right? How are we hiking all the way out there and getting back here today? And also, have you lost your mind? Why are you grinning at me like that?"
"Because you're being extremely cute right now. Yes, Bella, I know all those things. It's a one-way trip; we'll come back tomorrow. We'll get there in time, and I have a very big flashlight, just in case."
"Oh, I'll just bet you do. Only one little problem—I'm leaving tomorrow."
His smile disappeared. "I'm well aware of that too. That's why we have to go tonight. Now."
"Where are we sleeping?"
"Under the stars."
"We're camping out? Overnight?"
"Let me worry about all that. You just need to do you."
Do me? "Doing me" involved toilets that flushed and beds that felt like . . . not earth. Maybe he'd listen to reason.
"This is nuts. What about the poisonous snakes and the bears and the other scary things that come out at night?"
"Bella, I have probably spent more nights camped out in these mountains than in my bed. I'm positive I can take care of the two of us for one night. Can't you trust me, please?"
Of course I trusted him. It was me I didn't trust. Me huddled with Edward all alone in the great outdoors, where I would not possibly be able to resist him for the last . . . oh, twenty hours I had planned to hold off. Even subtracting eight hours for sleep time, that was still twelve hours of good intentions being tested to the extreme. I was fucked.
"I do trust you," I finally answered.
He mistakenly took that for my final answer. His face lit up like someone had just given him a little red wagon, his first two-wheeler, and his very own pony. Crap.
"Great! Go throw together what you absolutely can't live without for one night. And don't forget, I've seen you sleep in your clothes and skip brushing your teeth."
"Let's not hold that up as the standard, please. My bar was pretty low last night."
He cupped my cheeks between both of his big, gentle hands. "It's just you, me, and the mountain, Bella, and I happen to know the mountain and I are extremely easy to please. Oh, wear long pants and bring a sweatshirt. It'll get chilly once the sun goes down."
Damn. Edworeo strikes again.
.
.
.
Two things were different right off the bat. First, Edward's backpack had grown. It now extended above his shoulders, and it looked like it weighed more than me. Second, he had taken the opportunity to change into fresh clothes.
"You showered. What happened to 'you, me, and the mountain'?"
He cast his gaze to the floor and chuckled. "Yeah, I showered for the 'you' part. I was pretty ripe earlier." When he looked up again, I could see the pink coloring his cheeks. "My sleep roll isn't big enough for how bad I smelled this afternoon."
It was my turn to look away. Exactly how small is that roll we're sharing, mountain man?
He didn't give me much time to think about that. "Anyway . . . ready to go?"
"I guess. You still have that TP in your bag?"
"Never leave home without it."
"Well then, I guess my life is in your hands."
"Guess so." The way he smiled just then . . . all glowing with confidence, eager to show me what he'd been working on for two weeks . . . it was irresistible. Clearly. "After you."
I hadn't been outside all day, thanks to the lingering sting from yesterday's sunburn. In fact, if things had gone according to my plan, we'd still be in the library filing away books. Edward's plan was better.
"Wow. We're going to get a spectacular sunset, aren't we?"
"Mmm." He nodded at the horizon as if he'd staged the whole thing himself.
"Is your pack heavy?" I asked.
"It's fine, Bella. It's a short hike."
I had no idea why I felt the urge to babble and pepper him with questions. We both liked silence, and yet . . . and yet.
"Thanks again for taking care of me last night. You were really sweet."
"That's no problem." He cleared his voice. "I'm glad I could be there."
"I'm glad you had all that excellent first aid training."
I saw the smirk edge up at his lips. "That was more high school survival than first aid training. There's not all that much to do up here besides drinking. We tended to get a little stupid now and then."
"Well, you were kind of a saint."
At that, he gave out a loud, sudden chortle. "Oh, believe me, I am no saint."
"You are when it comes to me."
He kept walking, but he turned his head and gave me a long, fixed stare. His eyes narrowed as if there were heavy thoughts passing behind them. "You're giving me way too much credit."
"Whatever. It would be a lot easier if you would just stop being so perfect all the time."
"I'm perfect now? And a saint? Wow." He shook his head. "What's that supposed to mean anyway? What would be easier?"
Whoopsie. "Nothing. Never mind."
I stared straight ahead even though I could feel his eyes burning two holes in my cheek. This expedition was already not going well, and we'd only gone about a hundred yards. I wondered if he was wishing we hadn't taken this little trip together.
"You know, you're really confusing sometimes." Ah, apparently so.
Maybe I was confusing because I was so goddamn confused.
"Is that what you meant last night when you said you're terrified of me?"
"What?" His expression said "busted" again.
"Oh, you think I forgot you said that? I was trashed, but that made an impression, Edward. Believe you me."
"I'm sorry."
"Why?"
"I think I hurt your feelings," he said. "I didn't mean to."
"You shouldn't have to be sorry for saying how you feel. That's like the first thing you learn in therapy."
"I've never been in therapy."
It must have been the way he'd said it, like he'd been missing out on some big party the rest of us were going to once a week, but it made me smile, and then it made me giggle. "I think you might be the first person I've ever met who hasn't."
He looked over at me, allowed himself a chuckle, and shrugged. "I grew up with brothers. If something was bothering one of us, we let our fists handle it. Boom. Done. No grudges. Back to the same ol' same ol'."
"Must've worked if you all chose to spend your lives together here as adults."
"If something was too complicated for roughhousing, a case of Miller would usually do the trick. I'll bet that's a whole lot cheaper than an hour of therapy."
"Or hundreds." I wasn't ready to let him off the hook yet. Time was running short, and I had so many more questions for him. "So tell me, why is a big strong mountain man like you afraid of a little thing like me?"
He was quiet for two, three, four steps. My heart was in my throat, unsure what button I might have pushed.
"You know what? All right." He halted. He moved in front of me. Even in the dimming daylight, I could see him well enough to know something intense was burning in his eyes. "So here it is. I don't think you'll be that surprised to learn I don't really like people that much."
I remembered how he'd shied away from the spotlight that first morning, how he seemed more comfortable with the mountain than the guests. How he'd only begrudgingly offered me a place with him up front when he saw that Mike had been badgering me. I didn't fault him for any of that. Takes an introvert to know one.
Somewhere along the way, I'd forgotten all that because Edward never made me feel like he'd rather be alone than with me.
"Okay," I said.
"Well, I happen to like you, Bella, and not in a 'la-dee-da, she's fine' kind of way. I actually want to be with you and look forward to seeing you. I like listening to what you have to say. I crave learning as much as I can about you. And the craziest part, I feel like I want to share important pieces of myself with you that I have never wanted to share with anyone outside of my immediate family. That scares me a little bit." He looked away, huffed, and turned back. "Okay, it scares me a lot."
I moved closer, found his hand, and laced my fingers with his. "I'm scared, too." His lips were so close and too damn far away. "Because, Edward, I . . ." My other hand found his chest, flattened over his heart. "You're so good, it hurts." I was fighting off tears, but my need for him was far more powerful.
He answered me with a whisper. "It doesn't have to hurt. I could never, ever hurt you, Bella."
He cupped my chin and ran his thumb across my lips. He was waiting for me to give him permission, but I couldn't.
"This isn't the part that hurts. That comes tomorrow when we have to say goodbye."
His lips parted in the smallest of smiles. "Oh. Yeah, I've given that a lot of thought, too."
"Oh, you have, have you?" It felt good to smile a little.
"Mmhmm. Hours and hours alone on a mountain will do that to a guy."
As do hours and hours in a room surrounded only by books. "And what have you deduced after all these hours?"
"Well, on the surface, this might sound a bit self-serving . . ."
"Buuuuut . . ."
He chuckled. "But I don't think tomorrow is going to hurt any worse if you let me kiss you right now."
"Fucking hell." My lips met his with an urgency that knocked him backwards and left us both laughing, still connected at the lips while he staggered for his balance.
I grabbed him around his back, grasping at the giant pack, and pulled our bodies together hard—just to help him balance, mind you. His kisses were ridiculous—part mountain man, part sweet, cream-filled center, all man. If we hadn't been pressed for time, I would've jumped him right then and there; fuck tomorrow.
But we did have a time constraint, and I didn't want to jeopardize the mission. Besides, we could have a whole lot more fun once we got horizontal on that sleeping roll of his. In for a penny, in for a pound, as Jasper had said. And Edward was way sweeter than any Danish.
I pulled away from Edward's lips most reluctantly, savoring the taste of his tongue on mine, but even more than that, the beautiful light in his eyes. He looked truly happy for the first time in six days. I probably looked the same, and I knew it had been a whole hell of a lot longer than that for me.
"Careful, woman!" he mock-complained. "If you knock me over, I'll be stuck like a beetle on his back; I might never get up!"
"And that would be bad, right?"
"Yes, Bella, very bad. I have big plans for us."
"Plans? What kind of plans?" Damn, I sure as shit hoped they matched up with mine. Mostly, I hoped they would involve a lot more kissing.
Those beautiful eyes narrowed again, shifting from sweet to smoldering in no time flat. He shook his head ever so slightly, and his lips formed a tiny, dangerous smirk. "If I told you, you'd know I'm no saint. Forward march, soldier."
He reached for my hand, and I happily slid my palm onto his bigger hand. He'd touched me so tenderly last night when he was caring for me, I'd never noticed the roughness, but of course his hands would be calloused from all the manual labor. Our fingers wriggled their way into open spaces and wrapped comfortably around each other's.
I could have walked for hours like this, connected to Edward by touch in lieu of any spoken words, the air around us swirling with the lingering memory of that kiss and the anticipation of what would hopefully follow.
THEY KISSED! :D Oh, you caught that? LOL! Well, most of you "guessed" Edward's family would stand behind him, and of course, Bella would fight mightily on his behalf. Now, about this overnight... heh.
Hope everyone in Matthew's path stays safe and power-ful.
XXX ~BOH