Page 34 of Fake Date with the Mountain Man

RYAN

Hunter called me into his office a few days ago and told me that Marlow and I were weirding everyone else out around the office. Apparently, the other rangers prefer our constant bickering to our conversations about how nice the weather has been day after day. Officially, we weren’t doing anything wrong, but apparently our sudden change in demeanor was a hot topic around the office.

Hunter’s parting words were: “Just figure your shit out with her so I don’t have to hear about this anymore.”

I can’t say that the whole small talk routine with Marlow has been suiting me very well either. Every time I see her, I can’t help but think about last weekend. I want to talk to her about all the funny, weird moments we had together last weekend, but I think she’d probably slap me if I mentioned it at work. We never discussed keeping the wedding a secret from the rest of the office, but I can’t imagine she wants the word to get out to our coworkers that we went on a date – fake or not.

More than anything though, I just want to kiss her again.

It’s still a mystery to me how I went from arguing with the woman every chance I got to liking her.Likeliking her. Like a teenager who can’t get his fucking hormones under control.

Maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t hooked up with anyone lately. It’s been weeks since I brought a woman home from the bar. IfI had gone to happy hour with the crew last night, there would have been a dozen hot tourists to choose from. It would have been an easy distraction, but a cheap substitution. My brain is stuck on Marlow. The only way to get her out of my system is to either convince her that a one-time thing wouldn’t be a total disaster, or to remind myself of how much she irritates me.

And the most irritating scenario I can imagine with Marlow? A hike.

I heard her tell Emmett once that she’s never hiked before, so I know it’s not her thing. Plus, she’s a princess. She’s going to hate it. Sweating, dirt, bugs…a plethora of things for her to bitch about.

And if that doesn’t work, we’ll be alone together in the middle of nowhere and I can resort to plan B: begging her to reconsider her stance on having sex with me so I can stop thinking about her.

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Marlow steps out of her bedroom a few minutes later wearing jeans, a black t-shirt, and some colorful sneakers. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail, like it was the day she tried to apologize over lunch for making things weird at the bar.

Her ears are a tad too big for her head.

I file this away in the ‘con’ column of my Marlow list, right next to ‘uninterested in sleeping with me’ and a whole lot of blank space.

The crowd in the bakery downstairs is thicker than ever as we make our way out to my truck. Marlow seems nervous as she climbs into the passenger seat of my truck. I’m not sure if it’s the fact that we’re going hiking or the fact that we’re hanging out at all. She shifts uncomfortably next to me even before we hit the bumpy dirt road.

We’re failing at conversation just as hard as we have every day this week at work. Neither of us has mentioned the weather so far, but we haven’t mentioned much of anything else either.

“How far is it?” Marlow asks as we’re getting out of the car at the trailhead.

“2,190 miles.”

Marlow’s eyes bore into the side of my face. When I finally look over at her, I can’t help but laugh at her annoyed expression.

“It’s however long you want it to be. This is part of the Appalachian Trail, so technically we could keep going all the way to Maine…or we can go a couple miles and turn around,” I say. “This is a pretty easy section, so you should be able to handle it.”

Marlow scoffs. “It’s walking. I’m pretty sure I can handle that.”

I laugh and motion for her to step ahead of me as we start out on the narrow trail. Marlow sets a surprisingly steady pace. Her long legs help – so does her righteous indignation over my previous comment. And I can’t complain about the view with Marlow in front of me. The slight incline at the start of the hike puts her ass right in front of my face.

That goes on the ‘pro’ side of the list.

I glance up at her ears and decide that they really aren’t too big after all. They’re actually cute. Reluctantly, I mentally drag ‘ears’ over to the pro side of my list, leaving the con side practically blank again.

Fuck me.

The last time I went hiking with someone else was…well, I don’t remember when it was. Or who it was. I hike almost every weekend, but I rarely invite anyone else to go with me. It gives me time to zone out. As much as I like people, I need a break from them as well. Otherwise, I start to like them a lot less. Since I skipped happy hour and had last night all to myself, I can sacrifice my alone time today for the greater good of figuring things out with Marlow.

Even though it’s an easy hike, this is one of my favorite sections of the trail. The forest is dense and green here, and the crowds are sparse. The trailhead is off the beaten path. It’s unmarked and the access road is shit. And yeah, I know that I work for the exact agency that could fix those things, but honestly, I’d rather not. The Appalachian Trail is so overrun with people these days that it’s nice to keep one little part to myself.

Marlow’s pace starts to slow as the elevation climbs more steeply. To her credit, she hasn’t complained so far. She hasn’t spoken once since we stepped onto the trail, actually.

At the top of the hill, the trail levels out and widens. I catch up and walk beside Marlow for a while, pointing out some wild blackberries and a pile of bear droppings just off the trail.

Nothing like touting an extensive knowledge of animal crap to woo a woman. Or to irritate her. I seem to come closer to the latter with my random trail narration.

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