The Last Strike by A.R. Henry
Chapter 11
The next morning a pang of disappointment hits my chest when I wake up alone. Still, I know last night happened because when I roll over, I can smell traces of Weston’s body wash on my pillow.
Sighing, I sit up and stretch.
When I turn to the side, elation replaces the emptiness I was feeling seconds ago because there’s a mug of coffee sitting on my nightstand. That beautiful, beautiful man made me coffee. I will never recover from this. A man who brings me coffee in bed has my heart every day of the week.
I’m still feeling the joy from my morning coffee when I head to the kitchen to leave for work. My phone is sitting on the counter charging, and when I pick it up I see two texts. They’re both from Weston.
The man who slept in my bed last night.
Gah I can’t take it.
Weston: Sorry I didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t want to wake you. I didn’t find any cream in your fridge so I hope you take your coffee black.
Weston: Lock your doors when you leave.
I smile. Such a dad.
Am I attracted to that?
I totally am.
Does that mean I need therapy for daddy issues?
I shrug to my empty kitchen, and I quickly type out a response then head to work.
Courtney: Thanks for the coffee :) and for staying. I owe you.
The school day passes with little to no excitement, but even if my kids set off fireworks in my room I wouldn’t have noticed. I spent the whole day in my head worrying about whether or not I should tell my parents and Hale about the break-in—attempted break-in that is.
Another thing that worried me was if I should say anything to Cami. She didn’t mention that her dad had spent the night at my place. I wasn’t sure how I would even begin to broach that subject if she knew.
I’m meeting Ash for dinner later, and I know I’ll have to tell her what happened because there’s no way I can keep from spilling about who slept in my bed last night.
I was so out of it today that I hadn’t even bothered to check my phone until now. I grab it from my purse as I walk to my car, and I can feel my whole face light up when I see Weston’s name on the screen.
Weston: You don’t owe me anything. Your bed was better than the couch.
What! Is that considered flirting? No way. He said we were friends, right?
Friends sleep in the same bed and cuddle all the time.
I have to act like this is normal. How in the hell do I respond to this? Should I tell him, “Thanks. It’s memory foam?”
That’s not what he wants to know Courtney! Get it together!
After deleting several attempts, I finally settle on one and groan as I press send.
Courtney: Yeah I need a new couch. I know.
Jesus. I cannot flirt in text.
I’m surprised when he responds right away.
Weston: It wasn’t the bed that made it better.
Oookay.
This man is definitely flirting with me over text. And he’s killing it.
I need to up my game here or he’s going to think I'm a complete idiot.
Luckily, I don’t have to come up with a response just yet because my phone buzzes when he texts again.
Weston: Do you have plans tomorrow?
Courtney: I’m free most of the day. I just have dinner with my parents later. We usually eat around 6.
Weston: Come hiking with me. Amber has Cami and I have the day off.
Go hiking? With him? Is he crazy?
Courtney: You do remember I’m a klutz, right?
Weston: It’s a short hike. You’ll be fine. I’ll pick you up at 5.
Oh, the things I will do for hot, single men.
Well, not men, just one man.
One very hot, very single man. Who also happens to be an amazing father.
Guess I need to tell Ash that we’re having an early night because I’m going hiking in the morning.
Courtney: Can’t wait! X
True to his word, Weston rang my doorbell at 5 am the next morning.
I had somehow managed to roll out of bed and make myself presentable before he showed up. I threw my hair up into a high ponytail, applied some sunscreen, and donned some workout gear that I assumed was good enough to go hiking in. I didn’t bother with makeup, since it would just melt off my face anyways. Plus, it felt good to go natural every once in a while.
When I opened my door, it was to the most glorious sight. I had to flick myself on the chin to make sure it wasn’t a dream.
Standing in front of me—with coffee in hand—Weston was dressed in his usual athletic gear, but instead of his tennis shoes he had on hiking boots. The look definitely worked for him. He looked edible, and I was momentarily lost in a fantasy of him taking me to my room wearing only those boots.
If he noticed my glazed over state of daydreaming, he didn’t comment on it.
Probably thinking I was just out of it because the sun hasn't risen yet, he handed over the coffee with a soft, “Good Morning, Cherry Bomb.” Then, “Ready to go?”
I don’t trust myself to speak so I nod then grab my purse from the entry table. We walk side by side to his truck parked on the curb in front of my house.
I’ve calmed down enough to brave talking, so I take a sip of my coffee and say, “Mmm. I don’t wake up this early for just anyone you know. I will only drag my butt out of bed for you at this ungodly hour because you’re so hot and you have coffee.”
Apparently, I shouldn’t have tried conversing just yet.
Ever the gentleman, he opens my door for me and helps me up into the cab with a smirk on his face. “You think I’m hot, huh?”
I feel my face heat under his smug gaze. “It’s the lack of coffee talking. I cannot be held accountable for my word vomit until I’m two cups in. Ignore everything that comes out of my mouth before then.”
“It’s okay, Cherry. I’ve seen you looking. If I didn’t like it I would have told you.” With a wink he shuts my door and makes his way over to the driver’s side.
Well, this should be an interesting day.
No more talking until I’ve finished this coffee.
We drive up into the Smoky Mountains for about an hour before he finally parks at a trail head. The time passed surprisingly quickly. We talked about all the typical get-to-know-you things like where we grew up and our favorite childhood memories.
He talked about raising Cami and seeing him talk about his daughter was a sight to behold. It’s incredibly obvious how much he loves his daughter, and I can only imagine what it would feel like to be on the receiving end of his love.
His ex-wife is an idiot.
How you could ever choose a job over him, and his daughter is beyond me.
Unfortunately, I know that I won’t ever be able to love him like that, so I mentally chastise myself and put on a brave face as we pull in. Hopefully masking the sudden disappointment I’m feeling inside.
I need to change my train of thought. I’m here with him, and he’s here with me. Taking me for a hike on his day off. That has to count for something right? I should be lucky to have his friendship. Well, that’s at least what I tell myself even though my heart is silently crying at the loss of his unrequited love.
I hop down from the truck and stretch my heavy limbs. “So, Coach—” I see him smirk at me from the corner of my eye. I know he secretly hates me calling him that because he thinks I’m mocking him, but I’m not, really, I think it’s cute to call him that. Like I have the right to give him a nickname. “—How long is this hike?”
“It’s five miles. We should be done in about three hours.” He must mistake my expression of pain for something else because he asks, “You said you didn’t have anything else to do until tonight, right?”
Shit. Three hours?
Right, big girl panties. I can do this.
I pull the biggest fake smile I can muster on before saying, “Sounds great! Yeah, dinner isn’t until tonight with my parents.” Then for some reason I tell him, “You should come, actually. I need to start paying you back for the other night anyways. My mom makes the best food. You’ll love it.”
We’ve started making our way up the trail that’s only wide enough for one person at a time. He’s leading me, but he stops so suddenly that I almost run into him. When he turns back to me his expression is so serious, I almost ask what’s wrong with him, but he cuts me off. “I would love to meet your parents.”
Umm, okay.
We’re not dating, or anything so why is he acting like I just made a huge step.
I look up into his stoic eyes and smile my brightest smile, hopefully showing him at least a fraction of how he’s starting to make me feel. “Good. Let’s go, Cowboy. I’m going to kick this hike’s ass.”
He shakes his head laughing at me. “You’re something else, you know that?”
Without waiting for a reply, he turns back around and keeps leading us up higher and higher. After a few minutes of silence, I can barely hear him mutter, “Cowboy.”
I snicker.
If he turned back around right now it would be written all over my face what he’s doing to me. Friends my ass. I’m falling head over heels for him. I’m not even going to lie to myself anymore. It’s fine. I can be the friend loving him from afar. It’ll be just fine.
We continue climbing for another thirty minutes, and I’m so winded I can barely talk. I have to embarrassingly huff out every other word, and only hope Weston can understand me. “Does this level out at some point? Or am I going to die soon?”
“You’ll make it sweetheart. Want me to drag you if you collapse?” The jerk has the nerve to not even sound slightly out of breath, but the nickname softens the blow a little.
“Can you give me a piggyback ride?” I half whine, half wheeze. Needing a break, I bend over to place my hands on my knees and catch my breath. “You knew bringing me was going to be torture, it’s the least you can do. Bugsy.” Yeah, I went there. He’s trying to kill me. I’m desperate, and not currently above a guilt trip.
He makes an amused snorting sound before walking back to me. Placing his arms around me, he forces me into a standing position, and for a second my stupid heart has wings thinking that he’s actually going to lift me into his arms and carry me off into the sunset—or sunrise I guess...whatever.
Sadly, that train of hope crashes and burns because he just starts pushing my body forward to continue our ascent up the mountain.
What feels like centuries later—but is more than likely closer to forty-five minutes—we arrive at the most glorious lookout I have ever seen in person.
I follow several people on Instagram who travel and will post the most beautiful photos from their adventures, but nothing, I mean nothing, beats seeing a view like this in person.
We’re standing on a large rock that looks out into a valley down below. The mountains are a blue-green color partially covered by a foggy haze, but the most breathtaking part is the orange morning light in the sky.
It’s a painting of oranges, pinks, and reds masterfully colored across the horizon. It’s such a glorious reward that I completely understand why people do this on the regular. It’s a rush that cannot be compared to—knowing you’re the only people to witness this beauty at this exact moment in time never to be repeated again. Like God himself created this moment just for you.
I’m so into my feelings that I’ve almost forgotten Weston is here. I’m reminded when he comes up next to me and joins me on the ground.
“I’ve never seen anything like this in my life. For the hundredth time in the past few days, I have to thank you again. How did you know this is what I needed? I feel so at peace right now. It’s amazing.”
“I started hiking after my divorce. My whole life, up until Cami, was filled with baseball. Then, once Cami was born, I had her and baseball. Once the divorce was final, the times Cami would go to her mom’s, and I didn’t have anything to do for the team I started to get lonely and depressed just sitting at the house alone. I eventually talked to some people about it, and one of my buddies said, ‘You live right next to one of the most beautiful Mountain ranges in the country. Why are you sitting at home staring at four walls when you could be breathing that fresh air? Go take a hike.’ So, I did. And now every weekend that Amber has Cami I go hiking if I have the time off from work. It really helped me when I needed it, and I thought it would help you too after yesterday.”
I turn and blink at him. “Are you real?”
A slow grin spreads across his face in response to my question. I somehow don’t think that was the response he was expecting, and I think that’s part of what he likes about me. “Yeah, Sweetheart. I’m real.”
“Good. I’d be sad if my Weston was replaced with Robot Weston.”
“Your Weston, huh?”
“Yep. You slept in my bed and shared your secret relaxing hikes with me. If that doesn’t make us best friends, I don’t know what will.” I grin back at him and grab his hand. I give it a quick squeeze and drop it, but before I can completely let go, he holds on tight not giving my hand back. We both stare at each other for a moment before he breaks our eye contact to look back at the view.
I let myself watch him for another minute or two before I turn away. He really is the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. And now that I know what he’s been through with Cami, I feel like I’ve peeled back another layer of the Weston Bell onion.
We stay there holding hands and enjoying the morning for a while before he declares that it’s time to head back down the mountain. We make it back to his truck without incident or much complaining from me.
I did manage to get a short piggyback ride—that was the highlight of my life—because I swore that I saw a snake and jumped on his back. He threatened to drop me if I didn’t get off of him, so I reluctantly got down.
We laughed a lot, but there were quiet moments of agreeable silence too, that didn’t feel awkward like they sometimes do. It really was one of the best mornings of my life, and I don’t think I’ll forget it anytime soon.