Discreet by Nicole French

10

After a few hours of sleep on Will’s giant couch (spent mostly, to be honest, thinking about the fact that he was lying on a bed somewhere underneath me), I woke up early the next morning to rays of sunlight shining through the trees. I pushed up and peered out the picture windows that looked out on the lake. Will’s house was even nicer during the day than at night—the light glinted off the steel surfaces, refracting everywhere with peaceful brilliance.

Footsteps sounded, and few moments later Will strode into the kitchen, fully kitted out in a pair of athletic shorts, some sneakers that had seen better days, and a ratty tank top that did nothing to take away from his biceps.

Tying his hair into a messy knot on top of his head, he looked the same as every other time I’d seen him. Except for one thing.

I sat up fully. “You trimmed your beard.”

Will froze halfway to the kitchen, hands still full of wayward locks and a rubber band sticking out of his mouth. For a second I found it hard to breathe myself. His beard now only consisted of a thick stubble, and the inch of dark blond that was left did nothing to hide what turned out to be a formidably square jaw, a neck that had the same tension-locked muscles as the rest of his lean body, and cheekbones that could cut glass. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I had seen the rest of him, after all. But nothing had prepared me for the beauty of Will Baker’s face without a giant golden mess obscuring the lower half.

He finished tying up his hair. “Oh. Yeah, well, it was either that or carve a wizard’s staff, I guess.”

I flopped over the back of the couch, following him as he ducked into the kitchen. “You totally cut your beard off for me.”

“I absolutely did not.”

“You one hundred percent did.” I pointed at him, wagging my finger around. “Yesterday, you were Nanook of the North. Today you look like a frickin’ Abercrombie model. If I tease you some more, will you clean my house for me? Maybe help my mom get sober? What if I called you Fabio? Would you cut your hair too?”

I was pretty much lost in giggles at this point, but all I got in return was a dirty green look. I collapsed on the couch laughing.

A few seconds later, Will appeared over me, still glowering, but with one brow arched and humor clear in his eyes. For a half second, I imagined pulling him down on top of me, then smothering that face with kisses until he smiled. Maybe even laughed. Suddenly, the disturbing fact that I really wanted to kiss Will Baker mattered a lot less than the desire to make him laugh. I wanted to make Will Baker laugh so badly that my chest hurt.

“You done now, Lily pad?” he asked with a smirk.

I cleared my throat. “For now.”

“Good. Let’s have a bite, and then I owe you a run, if your ankle’s healed up, that is.”

I nodded, and he extended a hand. I allowed him to pull me back up to sitting before he abruptly returned to the kitchen.

“I like that sound,” he said as I took a seat at the bar.

“What sound?”

“Your laughter. You should do it more.” Will turned around and passed me a mug of tea that he’d miraculously conjured—this time, black. “Milk? Sugar? Honey?”

“Just a bit of milk, please.”

He nodded, then retrieved the milk and started whipping up a batch of scrambled eggs and toast just as quickly and efficiently as he’d made tea the night before.

“Do you like your eggs wet or dry?” he asked as he whisked.

“Um…w-wet.” My mouth was a little dry, and the way the movement was making his forearm flex was really distracting. “Really wet.”

“You like your scrambled eggs really wet?”

I blinked. “Oh—um, no. In the middle is fine. However.”

Will poured the eggs onto a heated pan and turned around to grab our toast, which allowed me to ogle him from behind. Yeah. The man filled out athletic shorts really, really well. A few minutes later, he slid two plates over and took a seat next to me at the bar.

“Thanks,” I said, taking a bite. “This is good.”

Will shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

We sat together for a bit, companionably chewing. The longer I spent with Will, the easier it was to be silent with him. I appreciated that. Silence had never been my strong suit.

“So, your mom,” he said as he spread some jam on his toast. “Is her drinking really that much of a problem?”

“Oh,” I said, taken by surprise. He really wasn’t going to beat around the bush this morning. “Um, well. She likes a drink. Or five.”

“And it’s a problem?”

“She…sometimes it makes her a handful,” I admitted. But I didn’t say more than that. Instead, I took a big bite of eggs and shrugged, choosing to study the thick crust on my bread instead of looking at him. I knew he would see right through me, and I wasn’t sure I wanted him to.

Will looked at me hard for a few more seconds, then turned back to his food. “It’s none of my business,” he said quietly.

For a second, I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell him that it could all be his business if he wanted it to be. But then I thought about the way he’d stood me up, or our first few interactions, where he had practically shoved me away from him. And of course, there was the minor fact that any time I asked him anything about himself, he completely and totally shut down.

So I kept quiet. Things like this made a person vulnerable. Everyone else liked to shove my mother’s issues in my face. I didn’t doubt that with one nasty snap, Will would do it too. And the problem with that was that I suspected it would hurt more from him than other people.

And just why was that?

I shook the question away while we ate in another round of silence.

“All right,” Will said once we were finished. He cleared our plates and made quick work of the dishes before turning back to me. “We’ll swing by your place so you can change before we run, and then grab some food after. Sound good?”

I nodded. “Fine by me.”

Will paused, reaching back a moment to mess with his hair again. “Lil…” he started. “I…this is really hard to say.”

I frowned, concerned. “What’s up?”

“I…okay. I might still be an asshole sometimes, but I want you to know, it’s not you.”

I frowned, suddenly suspicious. “That’s what assholes say before they do something dickish.”

Will sighed and dropped his hands to the counter. “If I’m a dick, you can tell me to fuck off. But…” He peered through the windows uneasily, lingering a moment on the few boats already buzzing around the water. There weren’t many. It was seven in the morning on a Sunday, and most people in the area were either just waking up or getting ready to go to church.

“I don’t really do well with a lot of people,” he said. “Or any, really.”

I cocked my head. “Yeah, I picked up on that.”

Will drummed his fingers on the countertop. “Sometimes I might just need a break. If I…if we’re ever hanging out, and I just need to take a walk or something, will you remember that? It’s not because of you.” He swallowed, and absently rubbed a hand over his newly shorn face, stopping a minute, as if he had just realized again that his beard was gone. He looked at me, green eyes glazed slightly with something that looked like fear.

And then there was a small smile. Barely visible, but both sides of his mouth turned up. It was so quick I almost missed it, but the effect it had on his face was undeniable.

“For some reason,” he said quietly, “I don’t seem to mind being around you.”

His hand dropped on top of mine where it rested on the granite. He didn’t move it, and neither did I—instead, we both just stared, transfixed by our sudden touch.

“I have an idea,” I said, still looking at our hands.

“What’s that?”

“A safe word.” I dragged my gaze up and smiled at him. “If things get too much, you—or me too—can say the safe word, and the other will know it’s not them. No harm, no foul.”

Will licked his lips meditatively. It made it hard to focus, but somehow I managed it.

“What’s the word?” he asked finally.

I sipped more of my tea. “Anything you want. But probably something you don’t say a lot.”

A hint of a smile spread across his face. “How about ‘lily pad’?”

I rolled my eyes. “Really?”

The smile widened. It wasn’t full, but it was more than before. I almost fell off my stool.

“No,” Will replied. “You’re right. I have a feeling I’m going to be saying that a lot.”

Was it weird that I wondered when? And where? And immediately started thinking of some very dirty places? Snap out of it, Maggie. This guy comes with a pickup truck full of issues.

“How about ‘pine cone’?” he suggested, pulling me out of my daze.

I shrugged. “Works for me. So, if you get overwhelmed, just say ‘pine cone.’ And I’ll know you need a step back.”

Will nodded. Our eyes locked again in mutual understanding, and the hand that was still over mine pressed down a little harder. Eventually, I started to pull away, but Will didn’t let me. He weaved his fingers between mine, lingering his thumb over my knuckles for a second, before then and only then, letting it go.

I ventured another small smile. “You ready?”

Will sighed, full of reluctance I couldn’t quite understand. It was just a run, right?

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he muttered. “Let me grab the keys, and we’ll go.”

* * *

But there wereno people to avoid on the trail that morning. Whether it was too early, or even too cold under the scattered clouds, the concrete path along the Spokane River was almost completely empty for the hour and a half it took us to jog close to ten miles toward the Idaho border and back.

The sun rose quickly, and by the time we returned to the truck, Will had been running for several miles with his shirt off, tucked in the waistband of his shorts. I had to keep my gaze strictly turned forward. One look at the thick blocks of abdominal muscles flexing with each step he took, and I was bound to trip over my feet right into the river.

When we reached the truck, Will unlocked the front so we could grab the water bottles he’d stashed under the front seat. I whipped off my sweat-soaked tank top and mopped my face off before pouring a bit of water on my head. I closed my eyes toward the sun, letting the water drip gloriously down my face and neck. The breeze coming off the river combined with the water felt amazing after the long run.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

I opened my eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Will just stood there, staring at me with one hand thrust into his hair, the other gripping his bottle hard enough that water had squeezed out of the top. His eyes grazed up and down my body, lingering slightly on the expanse of my bare legs and torso, lingering painfully over my breasts.

“Hey!” I snapped my fingers, breaking his daze. “Eyes up here! You live on a lake, Baker, I know you’ve seen women in way less than this before.”

“Yeah, well, their swimsuits aren’t white and transparent, Maggie,” Will retorted as he slapped a hand over his eyes. “Lil, can you please cover the fuck up?”

“What? Why—” I started to argue until I looked down and saw exactly what he was talking about. We had run for ten miles, and I’d sweat completely through my sports bra, as one does. But the problem was, the material was exactly as transparent as Will said, which meant my nipples, now erect from the cold water, were fully on display.

“Oh my God!” I screeched, jumping back to the truck to grab my sweaty shirt.

“That’s what I was saying!” Will shouted, turning to the side to give me some privacy. “You dressed yet?”

“Yes, I am,” I said, turning back around to find him standing in profile. “I’m—whoa!”

Now it was my turn to stare. Will’s shorts were loose, but the thin material was relatively clingy, especially with sweat, and it definitely didn’t leave much to the imagination when his, ah, equipment was on display. Which right now, it very much was. Apparently my nipples had quite the effect. You wouldn’t know it from looking at him normally, but the man was seriously packing.

No joke. I practically had to pick my jaw up off the parking lot.

“Now what are you staring at—” he started when he opened his eyes before following my gaze down to his very prominent erection. “Oh, Jesus,” he barked, scrambling behind the end of the truck when he realized what I was staring at.

I immediately collapsed into giggles against the car door. “I don’t think Jesus is going to help with what you have going on there, buddy.”

“Well, what the fuck do you expect, flashing your headlights at me that way!” Will barked, now crouching by the fender. “Can you just get in the car, please? I’ll, uh, just be a minute.”

Still giggling like a middle-school girl, I climbed into the passenger seat, but immediately turned around and peered at him through the windows that opened to the truck bed. Will stood at the back of the truck, facing the sky with his eyes squeezed shut. His lips moved, and though I couldn’t hear everything he whispered, a few phrases floated back to me.

“Golf scores…Grandma’s underpants…Algae… Goddamnit.”

“Everything all right back there?” I called through the window.

Will’s eyes shot open, and he glared at me. “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?”

I grinned. “Sure would,” I said without thinking, only afterward realizing how dirty that actually sounded.

Will rolled his eyes, but the glare was gone. “You’re enjoying this way too much.” He twisted his lips together, and I could have sworn it was to avoid smiling.

“I’m fine,” he said as he came around to the driver’s side. “If you’re done torturing me, Lil, maybe we can grab something to eat.” He slid into the driver’s seat and started the car.

And then Will Baker, world-class misanthrope and grouchy mountain hermit, full-on winked at me. And it was my turn to repeat nonsensical phrases to myself all the way to the restaurant.