Stinger

As I was flushing the condom, it registered that that hadn't been f**king. That hadn't even been just sex. I had just made love to Grace.

CHAPTER 11

Grace

Someone evil and cruel, a demon from the depths of Hades, shook my shoulder in the early morning darkness. I smelled Carson's scent close to me and inhaled deeply on a smile and tried to nestle back into the blankets. I loved that smell. It was just a dream, a dream I thought was bad at first, but was turning good, very good. "Wake up sleeping Buttercup," I heard whispered into my ear on a minty breath.

I forced one eye open. "What did I ever do to you?" I croaked out.

He chuckled. "If you want to go hiking this morning, we need to get going. Up!"

I groaned. What had I ever seen in him? He was a sadist. I heard him walk into the bathroom, and I drug myself out of our warm, happy nest. I loved that nest. I wanted to return to it and stay there indefinitely. It was warm and it smelled good–it smelled like him.

I walked into the bathroom and Carson was standing at the sink running his hands through his wet hair. He looked at me in the mirror and chuckled. "Hey, Fragglerock." He grinned. "Not really a morning person are you?"

I grunted. But when I looked at myself in the mirror, my eyes widened. I did look like Fragglerock. Good call with the nickname. My hair was sticking out in every direction and I had deep pillow creases on one cheek. That's what you get when you wake me up at the butt crack of dawn, Carson. I frowned and picked up my toothbrush and started brushing my teeth.

Carson came around behind me and put his arms around my waist and whispered into my ear, "Did I ever tell you I have a thing for crazy looking Muppets with wild hair?"

I snorted, spewing a little toothpaste out. "I knew your weird fetishes would come out eventually," I said around a mouthful of foam.

He laughed softly, patting me on my ass. "Hurry up, we need to get going if we're going to beat the heat."

I hurried through a shower and blew my hair dry and pulled it back into a ponytail. I felt a little more alive when I walked out into the hotel room. Carson was sitting on the bed pulling on his sneakers.

I pulled on the workout outfit I had brought–intending on using it at the hotel gym–a pair of navy shorts and a white tank with a built in bra. I pulled on my sneakers and a ratty, gray, zip-up sweatshirt.

I glanced at the clock and my eyes bugged out. "Five-fifteen?" I yelled. "You have me up at five-fifteen?"

"Yeah. It takes at least twenty minutes to drive there. If we want to really get a good hike in, we need to get going."

"You're crazy."

"So I've been told." He grinned.

We made our way down to the parking garage and he guided me over to a red Chevy Trailblazer. I furrowed my brow. "I thought you flew in," I said.

"I did. Rental car. I like to have the option of going somewhere further than the strip if I want to."

I nodded and climbed into the passenger seat.

We pulled out of the garage a few minutes later and Carson pulled into a McDonald's drive through. "Coffee?" he asked.

"God, yes," I sighed.

He grinned over at me. "Don't you get up early for classes?" he asked.

"I never schedule classes before nine a.m. Eight o'clock is about the earliest my brain is functioning."

"Ah. Well then this is good for you. Watching the sun come up in the desert is something everyone should experience at least once."

He ordered and then drove forward and paid, and took our coffees from the teenager at the window. He handed one to me and I took a grateful sip.

"And how exactly are you so chipper at this time of the morning?" I asked.

"Well, for one, I had an amazing night," he winked at me, "and for two, I'm used to getting up this early to go snowboarding. We usually leave at four or five in the morning."

I nodded and we drove in silence for a little while, both sipping our coffees.

He turned up the radio a little bit and I leaned my head back, sighing in contentment. I was still sleepy, but riding in the car with Carson, sipping coffee and taking in his delicious smell, filling the car, was nice–peaceful.

We drove on in companionable silence, listening to the radio. Just as I was finishing my coffee, we pulled into the Red Rock Hotel and Casino.

"What are we doing here?" I asked.

"This is the perfect place to watch the sun rise," he said. "There's a great view to the east from the top parking deck."

I took my last sip of coffee, trusting him.

It was still dark out as we got out of the car, me stretching. Carson came around to my side and put his arms around me from behind, pulling me close to his body. "Look, Grace," he whispered.

I followed his gaze in the dim light and my breath hitched in my chest as I saw the glowing red sun rising in the sky, casting golden rays of light out to every side. "Oh, wow," I breathed. "I literally don't think I've ever watched the sun rise, Carson. It'll always make me think of you." I said, smiling over my shoulder and nuzzling in to him.

He didn't say a word, just pulled me back harder to his chest and kissed my temple. We stood watching the miraculous display of nature's wake-up to the world for a good twenty minutes, the sun dancing over the mountains as it creeped higher in the sky, the vivid reds and whites of the canyon on full display. It was breathtaking. When the whole sun was showing over the horizon and the landscape was bathed in light, Carson pulled my hand and we got back in the car.

Ten minutes later, after paying at the pay booth, we pulled into the parking lot at the Red Rock Canyon Visitor Center. Carson went to the trunk and grabbed a backpack that I hadn't even noticed him putting in as we got into the car in the Bellagio parking garage.

"No rope and shovel in there, I hope," I said, my eyes moving to his backpack suspiciously.

He laughed. "No, Buttercup. Just some bottled water."

"Whew," I breathed out, teasingly.

He took my hand and we began walking toward one of the trail entrances.

The landscape was mountainous and rocky, the colors bursting all around me as the day grew lighter and lighter.

The rock formations in the distance were rusty red, the cacti vivid green, and the desert flowers on the sides of the trail all shades. The orangy-red, glowing sun in the distance was a backdrop for the beauty all around us.

We walked along in silence for a little while. I was fully awake now, watching the amazing view of Carson's muscular backside in a pair of khaki shorts moving up the trail in front of me. It was as awe-inspiring as the natural wonder around me.

After a little bit, we started chatting. I told him about my sisters, Julia and Audrey, both younger than me. I talked about my dad, how he was still a cop, but was planning on retiring in the next couple of years. I described what it had been like to grow up in the Midwest, in the same house all my life, and what it was like to leave Ohio for the first time at eighteen years old.

I told him about Abby and Brian and how Brian went to Georgetown with me, and that I had introduced them at a school function I had dragged Abby to.

He talked about what it had been like to grow up in Los Angeles, staying in the same city but moving around constantly. He told me about his best friend and roommate, Dylan, who was his snowboarding partner-in-crime and was finishing up his final semester at a computer programming, technical school. Carson said that Dylan was such a computer genius, that he could have taught the classes himself, but in order to get a decent-paying job, he needed the degree.

We talked about everything and nothing, filling each other in on our lives. There was something about talking as we walked, looking ahead at the trail, and not at each other, that made it feel like we could say anything. The boundaries naturally in place when looking someone in the eye were gone, and it seemed even easier to open up. To me, it felt like our own private place away from the world–there it was just me and him, our own stories, what we liked, what we felt, and absolutely nothing else.

I was shocked at how quickly time was going by as we walked and chatted. I glanced at my cell phone in the pocket of my sweatshirt, now tied around my waist, and it was already seven thirty. We stopped and he took a couple bottles of water out of the backpack he was carrying, and we took long drinks from them. He took a couple granola bars out too and offered one to me.

"Where'd you get these?" I asked.

"Vending machine when I woke up this morning," he said. "Always prepared, Buttercup."

I smiled. "Lucky for me," I said, eyeing him. "Why do you call me Buttercup?"

He smiled back. "Maybe because your skin is satiny like a flower petal," and he trailed his fingers up my arm, tickling me lightly. I laughed and shook my head slightly.

We ate and drank and then got back on the trail. We stopped again in another hour and after we drank more water, he leaned against a rock and pulled me against him, kissing the side of my neck. "Mmmm… I love the way you smell even more when you sweat. It's irresistible."

I laughed at the tickly feeling of his lips trailing lightly down my neck. "Is this where you turn into a desert hyena?"

"Probably. I feel him coming out. He's strong, baby. He's hard to contain. Ah!" He contorted his head in at an awkward angle and brought one arm out stiffly. "Run, Grace! Run!"

I laughed out loud as he grabbed me around the waist and brought me against him hard, growling into my face. "Too late, baby. You had your chance."

He nipped at my neck and ground up against me while I laughed and writhed in his arms.

After a few minutes, he turned serious and looked into my eyes, leaning into me and taking my mouth. He kissed me slowly and deeply, our tongues tangling, our breath mingling. He took my bottom lip into his mouth and sucked on it gently.

Finally, he broke away, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear that had come loose from my ponytail. "Feels good to be up here with you–I didn't know if I'd like company while hiking. Who knew it could be even better with the right person?" He smiled at me gently.

I smiled back and then cocked my head to the side. "Do you go hiking alone a lot?"

"Any chance I get, yeah. I love being outdoors."

"I can tell. Hiking, snowboarding, surfing. What don't you do?"

"Nothing I won't do, Buttercup. I thought you knew that." He winked.

I rolled my eyes. "Seriously, though, what do you love so much about it all?"

He looked over my shoulder and was quiet for a minute, biting his bottom lip. "I love the challenge of it. I love the fact that if you do something enough, you can be great at it. It has nothing to do with who you are, how you look, nothing superficial. It's all about accomplishing something that you can take credit for." He was quiet again, his brow now furrowed. I could practically see the wheels turning in his head. "Huh. Never actually thought about it until I just said that out loud." His smile was startling in its intensity, that dimple doing its worst.

I grinned right back at him.

He pulled me closer to him. "Know what else I really like?"

I shook my head. "What?" I asked quietly.

"You." He grinned.

"Yeah? And what exactly do you like about me?"

He tilted his head, looking into my eyes. "I like the look on your face when you're seeing or doing something new–almost like it's a religious experience." He grinned at me and I smiled back. I liked that.

"And I like how you let me see beneath that perfect exterior, because it turns out that what you were hiding was even more stunning, Fragglerock hair and all." I laughed. He grinned back and kept looking into my eyes. I felt my heart beating wildly in my chest.

"And I really, really like how you make me feel–like if you looked at me every day, the way you're looking at me right now, I could do anything, be anything, be more." He ended on a whisper, his face serious.

I blinked and reached up and touched his cheek. No one had ever complimented me quite like that. I wasn't sure how to respond except by saying, "I like you too, Carson."

"Yeah? What do you like about me?" he asked, a smile on his face, but I caught the look of vulnerability that skated across his features.

"I like how you make me want to be brave like you, listen to my own desires and make my own happiness." He smiled, but then furrowed his brow slightly as if he wasn't sure if what I said was completely accurate.

I kissed his nose. "I like how you let me see beneath your sex-on-a-stick exterior, because as unbelievably amazing as you are in that respect," I smiled and winked, but then went serious, "as it turns out, that's the least of what you have to offer." He laughed and pulled me in to him, kissing me on the top of the head.

"And," I went on, "I like how you make me feel, how you make me laugh and have fun, and feel more alive than I've ever felt before." I raised my head and looked up at him and he was gazing at me intensely.

"I think you should know something," he said.

"What?" I asked.

"In the tradition of the Native American people who lived in this desert ten thousand years ago, we just got married, baby."

I burst out laughing. "Vows at the top of the mountain?" I asked.

"Exactly," he said, laughing too.

After a minute or two, we joined hands and moved on.

At a little before ten a.m. we returned to the car and got inside, sinking into our seats and turning up the air conditioner to high.

"Wanna go see the Visitor Center before we get back on the road?" Carson asked.