Adventures with Max and Louise (43 page)

Wolf bends down to scratch his ears. “I guess he needs some water or something. A dog works up a powerful thirst falling out of helicopters.”

“Huge.” I bend to pet the dog. “Sorry to wreck your plans. Your friends are pretty upset.” I can’t stop grinning; the muscles in my cheeks are starting to hurt.

Wolf scratches the stubble on his cheek. “Let me guess. Ted said something nasty about his disappointed boss.”

“He might have mentioned something.”

“He’s such a brown nose. He’ll be fine.” He kisses me lightly. I restrain myself from knocking him over and rolling around in the meadow with him like crazed muskrats.

I grin. “One of them accused me of pushing Scout out of the helicopter.”

Wolf lifts his pack, which is covered in ropes, picks, crampons, and a sleeping bag. “Did you?”

“Oh, come on, I’m not that desperate.”

“Oh, right.” He winks. I give him a good shove, which almost topples him. “That’s not fair. Rule one of climbing: no pushing.” He grabs me and kisses me. “If you’re good, I won’t report you to the SPCA.” I shove him again, and he almost loses his balance. “Woman, are you trying to kill me?”

I stand on my tiptoes to kiss him, holding my hands in the air as evidence that I’m not going to shove him again. “With kindness,” I murmur between snogs. He resettles the pack on his back and takes my hand as we head down the trail. The alpine meadow on either side is golden yellow and rust with flowers. We are both quiet for a moment as we make our way toward Talkeetna.

“Do you know what I was writing in the snow before you shoved the poor dog out of the helicopter?” he asks.

“Not funny. Jess can vouch; the dog opened the hatch door on his own.”

“Jess is a notorious liar.”

I give him a good shove. The clips on his pack jingle like Santa Claus. “What were you spelling?”

“Jump; I was going to write the word
jump
in the snow.”

I laugh. “Wow, that’s romantic. Break my leg on our first date.”

“Yeah, it was a bad plan. I got kind of carried away in the moment.” We hike for a few more yards, absorbed in our thoughts. Mine turn to how someday I might be able to tell our kids about walking down this mountain together. This immediately segues to how those perfect tots will be conceived. I anticipate Wolf’s calloused hands running up my aching legs, smoothing me out, his lips following the trail traced by his hands. I must be sending out touch-me vibes because he reaches out to stop me by pressing my shoulder. He turns me to him, bending his head to kiss me. I’m enjoying this leisurely, erotic stroll more than any other in my life. He lingers a little as he pulls away, then takes my hand, and we start walking again.

“Do you realize that we’ve never kissed indoors?”

Good; he’s thinking about sex too.
“You’re right. We’ve never kissed indoors. Do you think we’re going to be one of those woodsy outdoorsy couples who spend every weekend hiking and braid each other’s hair?” I can see myself in a new REI wardrobe, wearing those really ugly practical clogs that nurses wear.

He takes away his hand to adjust his pack. As soon as he’s done, our hands are linked. “I doubt it. I plan on getting really fat and taking up golf.”

“Only if you promise to wear a comb-over and call me the little woman.” With the town growing closer, this feels like a new chapter of my life, one of those rare moments when I am aware of the precipice, so unlike the night when Mom died and the future loomed like a thunder cloud.

The dog dashes in and out of the meadow, returning to sniff at us before running off again. Wolf playfully swings my arm. “I was thinking of calling you the ball and chain. You’d like that, right?”

“Perfect.” I feel like skipping.

“You’re avoiding my question about kissing indoors. I mean, we both have hotel rooms, right?”

“Indeed, we do. It doesn’t make sense, from an economic point of view, to keep them both.” Below us the low hills and scrub spread out until they meet the foothills dusted lightly with snow. I breathe the thin air in deeply, thinking that just maybe, this is as good a place as any to write my next cookbook:
Fifty Ways to Cook Moose
.

“Does your hotel room have a bath big enough for a six-foot-four man?” Wolf asks.

“You might have to bend your knees, but, yes, it’s really big.” I try to make my voice light because I’m about to throw myself at him. “It also has a king-size bed with a very firm mattress.” Somewhere, perched on the edge of a cloud, my mother has clapped her hands over her eyes, telling her friends that this is no way to get a man. I should be playing hard to get.

He stops at the posted trailhead right above Talkeetna and takes both my hands. “You know, there’s no reason to rush this. Obviously, there’s nothing more I’d like to do than make love to you, but we can afford to take things slow, Molly. We have lots of time. I can always sleep on the couch.”

My eyes water; I’m taken aback by this very gentlemanly offer. I can hear Louise saying that Wolf is the kind of man who finds beauty with his ears. At the time I didn’t know what she meant, but now I know what it’s like to fall in love through listening. Now it’s time to fall in love with each other’s bodies, and there’s no way in hell I’m taking him up on his offer.

“That’s so sweet, and you get an A for effort, but there’s no couch.” I push myself into him to illustrate my point, pressing my breasts into his arms, swaying slightly, brushing my nipples across his arms.

He bites my lip, groans, and presses himself against me in firm, hard agreement. “Okay, then we’ll do this Alaska style. I’ll buy you a beer first.”

He takes my hand, and we hurry down the hillside toward the scrubby little town of Talkeetna. Scout runs ahead of us as if he knows Jess is waiting.

About the Author

ELLYN OAKSMITH
is the author of Adventures with Max and Louise. A graduate of Smith College, Ellyn holds an MFA from the American Film Institute, where she won the Richard Levinson Fellowship for best second-year screenwriter. She worked as a screenwriter in Hollywood, winning awards and optioning several screenplays. She has also written limericks for coffee cups, worked as a copywriter and PR writer, and even did a stint as a cook on a fishing boat in the Aleutians.

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By Ellyn Oaksmith

Adventures with Max and Louise

Copyright

This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

Originally published in 2011 in e-book format under the title
Knockers
.

ADVENTURES WITH MAX AND LOUISE
. Copyright © 2011, 2013 by Ellyn M. Oaksmith. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

EPub Edition FEBRUARY 2013 ISBN: 9780062268105

Print Edition ISBN: 9780062268112

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