When had sex become so complicated?
“You don’t really need to walk me out to my car,” she said. “It’s only two houses down. I’ll be okay.”
“I want to.”
They walked up the sidewalk to her car. The cooler air coming off the mountains laced through the heat still radiating off the sidewalks and buildings. The parched desert air and abrupt cooling of the evening was still new to him, but he was coming to love the crisp edges of Colorado—the brightness of the sun, the pure, dry heat of the day, and the chill of the evening breeze. It was almost possible to start thinking of this place as home.
He took a deep breath and tried to figure out what was supposed to happen next.
“I’m sure the kids will enjoy having Hope take over,” Kelsey said. “I’ve had her cooking before. She’s pretty amazing.”
Ross nodded automatically. “That’s great,” he said, and then shook his head. “Except, no, I’m not sure that matters in the slightest. Matt would take a handstand lesson over gourmet cooking any day of the week. Why did you agree to do this, anyway? Why did you agree to babysit? I know this isn’t your thing.”
“That’s easy,” she said. “Marie asked me.”
“And you’d do anything Marie asked?” he said, trying to smile.
“Pretty much,” she agreed. “She was my college roommate and my first real friend. She took me under her wing, introduced me to people, took me to parties. She didn’t have to help me, but she did.” She laughed softly. “She used to say we were twins separated at birth.”
“Fraternal twins?” Ross smiled.
“Right.”
They reached her car. Kelsey’s keys jangled as she pulled them from her bag. He wondered why she needed Marie’s help. What her childhood had been like. A million questions itched to be asked but they would imply some kind of relationship between them, and that was exactly what he had vowed to avoid.
“Guess I made it safely,” she said.
The glow of a streetlamp cast a soft halo around her head. He almost couldn’t look at her. “I wish you could stay,” he said, unable to prevent the words from spilling out of him.
She stared down at her hands. “It’s best that I go.”
His fingers itched to trace the line of her jaw, slide down the smooth column of her neck. It occurred to him, as it had so often since she’d confronted him in his office the day before, that there was something terribly, horribly wrong about Kelsey climbing Annapurna. Something that didn’t fit. Something that wasn’t her.
“I need to kiss you one more time,” he said.
She closed her eyes briefly. He watched her golden lashes dip, caress her lower lids, and then raise again. “Yes.”
Her lips tasted of sweet honey; she smelled like summer and sunshine. Their bodies and mouths meshed. They were standing next to an old Subaru, in full view of neighbors and passersby. They were all wrong for each other. All wrong.
And yet, for that moment, it was right.
Chapter Eleven
The smell of the climbing gym assaulted her as she walked through the door. It was a combination of sweat and feet, with an overlay of patchouli and cloves. It might have been disgusting, if it wasn’t so comfortably familiar.
“Hey Kels, long time no see.” The skinny, tattooed twentysomething behind the counter waved as Kelsey entered the climbing gym with Hope, Matt, Julia, and Luke close at her heels. It was Monday morning, and they’d arrived at the Slippery Rock just a few minutes after it opened. Kelsey preferred coming to the gym in the morning. They played the music a little softer, the mats were a little cleaner, and there was no waiting for the most popular climbs.
Matt’s eyes widened appreciatively. “See,” he whispered to Luke. “I told you.”
“She’s not famous,” Luke hissed back.
Kelsey rolled her eyes at the familiar harping between the boys. She stuck out her tongue at the man who had spoken to her. “I was here yesterday afternoon, Tank.”
“I know. It’s been”—he consulted his watch—“almost twenty hours. You’re getting lazy.”
She snorted as she handed him three pieces of paper. “Some waivers for you to file.”
Tank’s earring-filled eyebrows drew together. “For who?” He pretended not to notice the kids who were now crowding the glass-topped counter, which held an array of climbing gear, including chalk bags, harnesses, and slender, black-soled shoes.
Kelsey leaned over to give him a friendly whack on the shoulder. “Tank, pay attention. Our climbers today are Matt, Julia, and Luke. They’re going to tear up the walls.”