Free On the Mountain (Follow your Bliss #5) by Deirdre Riordan Hall Page B

croaking.
    Ignoring her involuntary giggle
and flushed cheeks—she told herself it was the heat—Baskia envied his wildness
and freedom. She wanted to cool off, but solitude and the hammock enticed her
to stay put.
    When Trace returned, he carried
his pile of clothes in front of his torso. He whipped his head forward and then
slicked his blond hair back, sending a shower of lake water onto her. She
flinched and yelped. He was in dire need of a shave. Baskia had to admit he was
deliciously handsome, but also cocky and full of himself, probably because he
needed to get laid. She laughed, shaking the thought from her head.
    “Something funny?” he asked, his
lips quirking into a smile.
    “I’m going to get something to
eat,” she said, opening the screen door.
    Trace followed her inside wearing
only his boxers. “Want a beer?”
    She’d declined his offer earlier,
wanting to stay away from alcohol for a while, but the beads that formed on the
bottle as he popped the cap, made her thirsty. Or maybe it was just looking at
him. She forgot about getting something to eat.
    “Sure.”
    He lifted his bottle to clink
with hers. “To getting our shit together.”
    “Something like that,” she said
and took a long sip. The amber liquid glided down her throat, leaving her
refreshed.
    “Hey, don’t tell your brother I
supported a minor in obtaining alcohol,” he said with a wink.
    “I hardly think my brother will
care. My parents give me wine with dinner—my mother’s parents were
Vintners—they had a vineyard in Minnesota. Thank goodness, she moved away. Ugh.
That would have sucked, except for the abundance of wine. They don’t care as
long as I drink responsibly.”
    “Do you drink responsibly?”
    Baskia nodded, nearly finished
with the bottle. “All the time.”
    “Then your secret is safe with
me.” He winked, melting her insides despite the chill of the beer.
    Before going back outside, Trace
handed her another. “Enjoy,” he said and then retreated to the deck and
reclined in the hammock.
    Baskia watched him through the
window. He lit a cigarette. The cold liquid sent a million carbonated thoughts
racing into her mind. Was the car done being repaired? She ought to call her
brother and check her messages—there were at least a dozen from her mother, but
she couldn’t connect to voicemail. She hoped Will put out any fires her
departure caused. Anne didn’t appear at the cabin, so that was hopeful. She’d
been able to send a few texts, but mostly they bounced back. She was on top of
a mountain; she couldn’t imagine what blocked the connection.
    Earlier that day, in lieu of a
call or email, she’d hand-written a letter to the advisor noted in her packet
for Columbia, outlining her reason to defer until the winter semester. The time
alone, relatively, made her realize that for all her life experience she hadn’t
been prepared to be truly on her own. Therefore, she felt it irresponsible to
begin college until she knew, for sure, she could rely on herself in times of
difficulty, that she could be her own best friend; that she could figure out
how to make a damn pot of coffee. Then there was the issue of discovering her
heart’s desire and figuring out her hopes and dreams.
    Out on the deck, she added the
empty bottles to the row on the railing. “Speaking of responsibility you really
shouldn’t smoke,” Baskia said to Trace. In the glare of the penetrating sun,
her thoughts slowed down, relaxing, drifting, and settling like silt.
     One thought, a single word, rose
to the top, above all the other thoughts and ideas competing for her attention…Trace.
    “It’s only one of my bad habits,”
he said, taking a long drag.
    “You’re not going to acknowledge
that it’s bad for your health?”
    “It’s only one of the things I do
that’s bad for my health.”
    “But—” she grabbed the beer from
his hand and took a big sip. “You don’t care about your—”
    “I care, just not enough.” He