Page 43 of Fake Date with the Mountain Man

It’s true that we’ve skipped happy hour the last two weeks in favor of hanging out and watchingShamelesstogether. And it’s true that neither of us has mentioned this to anyone else. Marlow would probably be horrified if anyone found out that we’ve been hanging out, and I keep my mouth shut in hopes that she won’t call the whole thing off just because people are talking.

Apparently, they’re gossiping anyway.

“Alright,” I say, trying to hide my disappointment.

“Okay, I’ll see you there.”

Marlow’s eyes linger on mine for a second before she walks off and disappears into her office.

When I turn to go back to my office, Kayla is headed my way. I nod at her. Over the past few weeks, I’ve learned that she’ll latch onto almost anything I say, so a quick nod seems like a safer greeting.

“Hey, Ryan,” she says in a breathy voice. Kayla pauses as if she’s expecting me to stop and talk to her, but I walk straight into my office, shutting the door behind me.

When five o’clock rolls around, I’m a lot less excited to kick off the weekend at happy hour than I was to hang out alone withMarlow. At least I’ll still get to see her at the bar. She better not pull that fake sick bullshit again.

None of the rangers wear their uniforms to the bar. It doesn’t look good to have a bunch of federal employees downing beer and stumbling home. Most of us just take off our work shirts and wear whatever t-shirt we have on underneath. It’s still pretty obvious since we all are wearing dark green pants, but at least we don’t have US Forest Service printed across our chests as we order a round of beer.

Marlow, on the other hand, hates our uniform. She says the fabric is too stiff and scratchy. She always changes into an entirely different outfit before heading to happy hour.

Today is no exception. When she emerges from the women’s bathroom at 5:04, she’s wearing a floral sundress and a pair of brown sandals. Her lips look a little pinker and her hair looks a little neater than it did around lunchtime.

“You look…”Hot. Gorgeous. Beautiful. Fuckable.“…nice.”

She smiles at me, and we fall in line behind the other rangers as we make our way through the lobby. We walk a little slower than everyone else, putting some space between ourselves and the rest of the group.

“So, I figure we can put in an hour of face time here before we sneak out,” Marlow says.

“And where are we sneaking off to?”

“We have a season finale to watch,” she grins up at me. “I’ll leave first. Wait ten minutes or so and then meet me at my place.”

Chapter 15

MARLOW

The bar is packed. The other rangers grumble things about tourist season as we all settle into our regular corner, occupying both the booth and nearby high-top table.

Ryan and I keep our distance once we enter the bar. We’re orbiting around each other, but not as closely as we’ve grown accustomed to these past few weeks. He is standing at the high-top between Jack and Hunter. I scoot into the booth beside Abby, who is discussing the horrors and merits of water birth with Vickie, a developed recreation tech who spends most of her time in a gatehouse at the campsite.

Their conversation barely registers in my brain. Instead, I’m fully invested in watching Ryan. I’ve gotten so used to looking at him up close, little glances from only a foot away, his face illuminated by the glow of the television screen. Up close like that, he’s all dark eyelashes and evening stubble. I’d almost forgotten what he looks like from afar.

Despite being slightly shorter than the two giant men at his sides, Ryan stands out. I’m pretty sure I’m not imagining it. They’re all objectively good-looking guys, but Ryan has thatthing. That homecoming king charisma that’s hard to ignore.

And there are very few women in this bar ignoring him right now.

Ryan looks over at me, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Heat prickles at my cheeks, but I don’t look away. I can feel his stare in all the places I shouldn’t, like between my thighs and all the way down to my toes. There’s nothing friendly about the way it feels. It’s pure sexual tension, stretched thin between us now that we’re farther apart, like a rubber band about to snap.

Ryan peels his gaze away slowly, licking his lips quickly before pressing his beer bottle to them. When he pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts typing, I can’t help but feel slightly jealous of whoever is on the receiving end of his message. It feels a bit like losing a silent battle for Ryan’s attention.

I adjust my gaze back to the women beside me, trying to track where they’ve both landed in the great water birth debate. But when my phone chimes in my purse a second later, I jump on the opportunity to not hear the answer to the question: “Does the placenta float?”

The message on my screen is from Ryan:It’s not polite to stare.

His eyes are on me again when I look over at him, but he quickly looks away and laughs along with something the guys are saying.

As I’m trying to craft the perfect retort, Abby leans into me and smiles. “You two aren’t nearly as subtle as you think you are,” she says with a quiet laugh.

I quickly press the button on the side of my phone, turning the screen black even though I’m sure she already noticed Ryan’s name across the top of the screen.

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