Page 35 of Rocky Top

I raised my chin. “Go ahead. Say it…”

“Not the only thing that’s huge,” Rocky said, laughing.

I rolled my eyes. Men. They were all the same. But ol’ grumpy Rocky laughing for once, that was something else.

Then he settled, got all serious. “Hope you don’t save it for last.”

“Pilot. Biker. Banana pudding chef. Now, a serious flirt. What else you hidin’?”

He looked sideways at me. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

I grinned. “Iwould, actually.”

“What do you want to know?” he asked, sitting down his food and wiping his gorgeous lips.

“Why do they call you Rocky?”

“Rocky Top, Rocky’s for short, and my legal name as well.”

“Rocky Top, huh? You’re Knoxville born and raised I bet.”

He leaned back on the bench. “Yep. Truth? I grew up thinkin’ I’d go pro in football. Played for Tennessee till I wrecked my knee junior year. That was that.”

“What happened?”

“Blindside hit. Tore my ACL and my hopes all in one go. Coach said I had heart. Scouts wanted numbers.”

“And after that?”

“Got wild for a while,” he said, voice soft. “Ran with the wrong crowd. Did some things I ain’t proud of. But I got outta it, thanks to Knox. Showed me how to channel all that anger.”

I studied him. “And now you fly tourists.”

He smirked.

I rested my chin on my hand. “You’re more complicated than I thought.”

“And you ain’t the high-maintenance princess I figured.”

“Excuse you.”

“You know what I mean. All hats and heels and big-ass sunglasses. Then I catch you campin’ in the woods, fightin’ off monsters like it’s nothin’.”

I blushed. “I needed a reset.”

He nodded. “You’re good at surprises.”

“So are you.”

Our eyes locked, and the air changed. Went thick. Everything slowed down.

I leaned back just enough to look away before I did something reckless like kiss him on the damn picnic table.

Chewing the last bite of my sandwich while Rocky stretched out beside me, his arm a lazy drape over my legs. Grass, sunshine, and whatever cologne he wore filled my lungs, making me think about locked doors.

He glanced over at me, one brow raised. “Alright, Birdie Mae. Your turn.”

“My turn for what?” I asked, wiping crumbs off my lap.

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