Page 16 of The Mechanics of Lust

You could’ve knocked me over with a feather when they came up with that one, and I was scrambling to find an answer. I might only be acting as a glorified and insanely expensive taxi driver, shuttling tourists to and from their accommodation, hiking, and heli-skiing adventures, but in my eyes, it didn’t excuse ignorance about the spectacular region whose beauty funded my salary.

I wanted to learn everything I could. Three weeks into a new life and I was revelling in it.

Go figure.

Who’d have guessed I’d fall in love with my job all over again? Dipping and diving over the Southern Alps and around the myriad of lakes and rivers that made up the magnificent Mackenzie Basin had become my new favourite thing. It beat the hell out of cruising at thirty thousand feet. In the helicopter I felt in touch with the landscape, part of it, riding that thin line of safety that comes from a close connection with the terrain, and I wanted to learn everything I could about this region.

I foresaw a trip to the local library and some late nights of scrolling in my future. Still, nothing beat the knowledge buried deep in the brains of the people whose families had worked these stations for three, sometimes four generations. Stories handed down to people like Holden and Emily and... Zach.

Zach.

Just his name made my blood boil for two disparate but equally inflammatory reasons. First and by no means the least was his sheer irritation factor. Pig-headed didn’t even come close to conveying the man’s determination not to like me or even try. And okay, he didn’t have to. Not everyone was going to, right? But he could at least maybe not be such an arsehole about it.

Second, and definitely the worst, the guy just fucking did it for me. Three weeks since he’d pretty much told me I sucked as a human being for walking out on Gil, and I still couldn’t think of him without wanting him under, on, or in me—I didn’t much give a damn which it was, as long as both of us were naked.

Fucking lust. It screwed you six ways till Sunday and left you wanting more. And contrary to my determination to walk away, Zach’s pissy little attitude had done nothing to extinguish my almost obsessive desire to get all up close and personal in his business. Likereallyup close and personal.

And that wasn’t why I’d come all this way. It was pretty much the opposite.

I might have enjoyed dipping my toes into the single life again as a win-win distraction from the massive holes in my life, especially after I found out about Gil and Holden, but I’d reined that in and even managed a little casual dating before I moved south.

But there’d been nothing like this thing I had for Zach. This thing that had lasted nigh on a year. Nothing that involved me constantly thinking about another guy. Nothing that was worth the inevitable messy conclusion. Which was why this little crush needed to end, not die the death of a thousand cuts like it was shaping into.

It was around one by the time I landed the chopper back alongside the Cass River and Blue wandered over to bring me up to speed.

“They hit pay dirt by eleven and are on their way back.” He waved me to a camp chair set in a shady spot under the canvas gazebo. “Charlie and Hellboy made the first find, a woollen hat lodged under a pile of rocks about half a kilometre up. Then Zach made the next three, including the final backpack set well above the river at the top of a shingle scree. I swear that dog of his has radar antennae.”

I smiled, imagining how much the win would have delighted my prickly nemesis. Zach was a good sport, but I knew his dogs meant a great deal to him, especially since he’d walked away from his family’s land. His world had been turned upside down. The thought didn’t sit well with me.

I reminded myself it was none of my business, accepted a coffee from Blue’s thermos, and focused on picking Blue’s brains about all things search and rescue as we waited for the team to arrive.

It was just after two when the first strains of laughter echoed down the valley. First into view were the four dogs who barrelled over for a scratch, a treat, and a well done. Then came Zach in the lead, singing “We Are the Champions”at the top of his voice.Before I knew it, I was grinning and something burst in my chest that felt an awful lot like pride.

When everyone was safely ensconced under the shade of the portable gazebo and the congratulations and shit-talking was over, I left the team to their afternoon tea and debrief and took myself off to the river to soak my hot and tired feet. The icy glacial water did its thing within minutes and pretty soon I was yanking them back into the warm sunshine to pink up the dusky blue shade of my toenails.

“Is this seat taken?”

I looked up into the shadowed face of Zach and my heart did an embarrassing little jump.What the hell did he want?I shook my head. “Help yourself.”

He did, leaving a good half metre between us as he stripped off his boots and socks to reveal crinkled, pale feet sporting a few blisters. I winced as he shoved them both into the water and let out a relieved groan that went straight to my balls.

Except it didn’t. Because I was done with all that nonsense.

For what seemed an awfully long time, we sat in awkward silence against the background chatter from the gazebo fifty metres away. I fought the urge to make small talk. It was Zach’s move. If he hadn’t wanted to talk, then why leave the others to come and sit next to me?

Despite my determination not to, in the end, I couldn’t stand the tension and said, “Congratulations on bringing home the win,” at the exact same time that Zach said, “I’m sorry about what I said at your house.”

Well, whaddya know?Our sideways gazes met and Zach snorted in amusement.

“You first,” I said, curious to see where he was going.

His gaze slid to where the frigid water was swirling around his feet. He pulled them out to dry on the shingle bank alongside mine and said, “I’m saying you were right back then. It’s not my place to judge what happened between you and Gil. Idon’tknow all the facts, and I sure as hell don’t know what it’s like to lose a child, or anyone close to me in that way.” He shot me an apologetic look. “I was way out of line.”

I thought about what he wasn’t saying. “But you still think it, right?”

He studied me for a few seconds, then grimaced. “Maybe? I’m trying to be more open.”

I huffed out a laugh and began pulling my socks and boots back on. “I suppose I asked for that. Well, you know what, I’m okay with that. You’re entitled to think what you like.”

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