Page 101 of Wood Riddance
He pulled me close and nipped at my neck. “I admire your hyper-independence, but I’m starting to question why you even keep me around.”
He was joking, of course, but the comment stung. Especially given my history of being dumped by guys who felt emasculated. The ability to change a tire was something I believed all women should possess. It was no big deal to me, but apparently to my ex-boyfriend Scott, it was a deal-breaker.
He flipped me over and pinned me beneath him, then went to work kissing down the column of my neck. “So it’s my cock? Is that all I’m good for?”
“Not at all,” I said, gasping as he bit my earlobe. “I don’t need much. Just emotional support and orgasms.”
“Ah, perfect. I can manage a lot of orgasms.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Stretch. You’re pretty good at the emotional support too. You’re my personal emotional support Viking.”
“It’s not boyfriend or husband, but I’ll take that label and wear it with pride.”
Chapter33
Finn
The next morning, we were up early to hike the Precipice Trail. Neither of us had done it before, and it was only open a few months out of the year because it was a nesting site for peregrine falcons, so we decided to tackle it together. It was the most difficult climb in the park and was a series of iron rungs, ladders, and wooden bridges that led up a massive rock face.
“Did you know that mama falcons will attack hikers during nesting season?” Adele asked over her shoulder as she pulled herself onto the next ledge.
I smiled, enjoying the view of her tiny shorts. “What a way to go. Mauled by a falcon.”
She heaved herself onto the ledge and stuck her tongue out at me in response. Damn, I didn’t think it possible for this woman to be any more beautiful and intriguing, but this unencumbered version of Adele had proved me wrong. Since we’d arrived, she had been completely relaxed and open. We were only a few hours from home, but the change of scenery was good for us both.
“I wonder if He-Man has destroyed Paz’s house yet,” I wondered out loud.
Adele turned and shot me a look. “He would never. My sweet boy is currently being spoiled rotten by Parker. She made a steak for him last night and texted me a photo of them curled up in bed watchingHousewives.”
“Where did you tell them you were going?”
“Boston. To meet a new tire supplier. They got glassy eyed when I started talking about tread depth so I figured they bought it.”
We continued our scramble, stopping in a few spots for water and to take photos of the ocean crashing against the cliffs below.
“Is that,” I murmured, bringing my mouth closer to Adele’s ear, “Susan Stephens?”
The woman on the trail in front of us was in her early sixties. She was tall and fit, with chin-length white-blond hair, and bore a striking resemblance to Susan Stephens, chef, TV personality, and media billionaire.
Adele turned and followed my gaze. “I think so,” she whispered.
Susan had a famous rags-to-riches story. As a young, single mom, she worked in a restaurant kitchen, and eventually purchased the place. She went on to publish several bestselling cookbooks and produce a line of cookware that was sold at every department store in the US. She then turned her endeavor into a multimedia empire, with magazines, TV shows and products everywhere.
My mom owned all of her cookbooks, and I had bought a set of her spatulas at Target during my last trip to Bangor with Merry.
Could that be her?
The woman on TV was always made up. This woman’s face was free of all makeup, and her hair was held back by a headband, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was really her.
The woman was surrounded by a large group of fellow hikers, some of whom seemed miserable, as she continued ahead of us. As we came up on them, the group moved to the side of the trail, which was standard hiking etiquette.
But not this woman. Nope, she remained in the middle of the trail, making it impossible for us to pass. That was how we ended up walking behind her, chatting about the trail and the park and the weather. The sound of her voice as she spoke to her companions confirmed our suspicion. It was her. Adele and I tried to play it cool as we approached the summit, hanging back a bit and doing our best to carry on a conversation while also enjoying the scenery.
Susan waited for the rest of her group to take some photos at the summit marker, and Adele and I found a spot to rest.
There were few people up here this early, but the handful that were gawked and discreetly snapped photos with their phones.
“I’m freaking out a little,” Adele said, hiking one foot onto a boulder and straightening her leg to stretch out her hamstrings.
