Backwoods. Jill Sorenson
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by while Nathan put the moves on her mother.
Fine. Nathan could control himself. He’d been celibate for most of the past three years, so he was no stranger to going without sex. Keeping his distance from Abby shouldn’t be difficult. Maybe she could give him some parenting advice. She’d hit a home run with Brooke.
Abby had been kind to Leo, as well. Nathan had noticed that, and he was glad Leo had been polite in return. Lydia had raised their son to respect women. Nathan couldn’t take any credit for that aspect of Leo’s upbringing, unless Nathan’s poor treatment of Lydia had encouraged Leo to be a better man.
As a father, Nathan had made a lot of mistakes. He’d been gone most of the time. The first few years had been tough. They’d traveled to many of his away games as a family, but Lydia had hated being on the road with a baby. By the time Leo was in elementary school, Nathan had become a top-ranked major league player. He was in high demand for endorsement deals and charity events. His relationship with Lydia had been solid. She didn’t love his career focus, but she enjoyed the perks of being a successful athlete’s wife.
Then he got injured, and everything fell apart. Although his shoulder had healed quickly, he didn’t have the same snap to his release or power in his swing. He worked out like crazy, pushing himself harder than ever, but it was no use. His body had too much wear and tear. He was washed up at age thirty.
Around the same time, Lydia had suffered a miscarriage. She’d become depressed and withdrawn. He didn’t know how to fix things between them, so he’d focused on saving his failing career. The team he’d helped take to the World Series let him go. Lydia refused to uproot Leo by following Nathan to Detroit, and then to Cincinnati. He couldn’t sleep at night. He’d started mixing his pain pills with alcohol.
It was difficult to pinpoint the exact moment his drinking had gotten out of hand. The third trade, maybe. The strikeout that killed their play-off hopes. The infield error in the last inning of his last game.
At twenty-eight, he’d been one of the most celebrated baseball players in the league. He had more money than he could spend. Five years later, it was over. He had no hope of getting another lucrative contract. To say he went on a drinking binge was an understatement. He’d pretty much just stayed drunk.
He hadn’t known who he was, outside of baseball. He’d been drafted at eighteen. He’d never gone to college. His self-worth was all tied up in the game. After more than ten years of people telling him he was a superhero, he’d believed it. And when his fans thought he was shit, he internalized that, too.
A commotion ahead startled him out of his reverie. Brooke and Leo had hiked around a bend, past a group of tall pine trees. Nathan heard the deep voice of a stranger, along with Brooke’s friendly hello. Abby hurried to catch up. Nathan followed close behind, more curious than concerned.
There were two men blocking a fork in the trail. Leo stood silent next to Brooke, his shoulders square. Her body language was more relaxed; she didn’t consider these men a threat, even if Leo did.
Both strangers were scruffy and unkempt. Their long hair was incongruent with the military-style fatigues they wore. The man in front of Brooke had grimy hands and a thick beard. His companion was younger, with the sparse mustache of a teenager. They were hunters, judging by their camouflage gear and backpacks.
Nathan found their appearances strange, but he was probably biased against hippie backpackers. What really disturbed him was the avaricious gleam in the older man’s gaze, which faded as soon as he saw Nathan.
“Is it this way to Echo Lake?” Brooke asked, pointing to the left.
The stranger nodded. “Good day for a swim.”
Brooke inquired about drinking water sources and they had a short discussion about filtering. When Abby joined them, the older man gave her breasts a quick study before glancing at Nathan once again. Sizing him up as an opponent.
“Where are you headed tomorrow?” the man asked Brooke.
“Lupine Meadow,” Nathan said.
Brooke opened her mouth, as if to dispute him, but she went quiet when Abby gripped her elbow.
“That’s a nice area,” the man said.
Abby murmured goodbye and continued down the path with Brooke and Leo. Nathan stayed behind. It was part protectiveness, part male posturing. His instincts told him to stand his ground instead of scurrying along. The men had a strange, earthy smell. Not marijuana or stale sweat, but something else, like wet fur.
“Any luck hunting?” Nathan asked.
“Caught a few quail,” the man said, his eyes twinkling.
“With what?”
“Traps.”
Maybe that was the odor he’d detected: fresh game. Nathan didn’t care if they were poaching, growing pot or playing Jesus. The boy looked scared and guilty. As long as Grizzly Adams didn’t mess with his women, Nathan had no beef with him.
“Have a good one,” Nathan said, nodding goodbye.
The older man stared at him for a few seconds, not moving. Nathan was reluctant to turn his back on him. The grungy teenager broke the spell by starting down trail. Nathan and the other hunter left the scene in unison.
Freaks.
Abby was waiting for him nearby, her mouth tight. She didn’t ask any questions. Sound carried in the forest. Nathan walked beside her, glancing over his shoulder at regular intervals. They caught up with Leo and Brooke as the trail narrowed into a steep incline.
“Are we really going to Lupine Meadow?” Brooke asked.
“No,” Nathan said.
“Why did you lie?”
Leo seemed surprised by her naïveté. “Because that guy was looking at you like he wanted to eat you.”
Brooke turned to her mother for confirmation. The fact that she hadn’t picked up on the stranger’s demeanor raised a number of red flags for Nathan. Thank God he had a son instead of a daughter who seemed unaware of her own beauty. When Abby didn’t say anything, Brooke flushed and continued hiking.
For the next hour, they ascended a series of switchbacks that made conversation difficult. It was a tough climb, even for Nathan. His shirt grew damp and his pack felt heavy on his back. Leo kept up with Brooke better than Nathan figured. Abby was also a trouper.
They reached the top of the first mountain and paused to take in the view of Echo Lake, nestled in the valley below. It was a gorgeous blue oval, surrounded by white granite rock formations and tall pine trees.
“Let’s have lunch here,” Brooke said.
It was a good place to stop. Nathan could keep an eye on the trail, though he doubted the strange duo had followed. They shrugged out of their backpacks and sat in the shade of a sturdy oak tree. Nathan was sweating like crazy. So was Leo. Abby looked hot and bothered in an attractive, post-orgasmic way. Brooke didn’t even appear winded. She passed out a lunch of mixed nuts and oranges.
“This is our only fresh fruit for the trip, so enjoy it.”
They did. Nathan was ravenous. He tried not to notice Abby’s ample chest or her hollow cheeks as she sucked on an orange slice. She’d be stripping down to her bathing suit soon, so he needed to get a grip. Think about something else.
“Lydia tells me you’re a runner,” Nathan said to Brooke.
She took a sip of water, nodding.
“Long-distance or sprint?”
“I do the 800 meter, which is considered medium-distance. Also the 100-meter dash.”
“What’s your time for the 100?”
“11.7.”
“No shit?”
“No shit.”