Out of Bounds Read online

  "I am in no way fit to be anyone's mom, but I will take the free beer." She winks at me and casts a glance around the table like she is on stage performing. Little does she know that she issued a challenge to everyone sitting around this table with that statement. I begin a countdown from three in my head and don't even make it to one before the taunting begins.

  “Hey Carrie, do you have any more sunscreen? I forgot mine.”

  “Hey Carrie, did you bring any of those delicious homemade granola bars? I’m starving.”

  “Hey Carrie, I’m getting a blister, do you have any moleskin?”

  Her head flips toward each new speaker in turn, her flaxen hair flouncing loosely across her shoulders making every shampoo executive in the country cream his pants and want to sign her to their next commercial. She laughs candidly at each comment that flies her way.

  The excitement of watching her isn’t reserved for men in executive high-rise towers. Maybe it’s the clear lip gloss that makes her smile beguiling or how she speaks so animatedly like words have no meaning unless they come with gestures. Maybe it's the way she interacts so easily with everyone. Whatever it is about her, it makes my cock twitch in a way that simple conversation shouldn’t. Knowing how enticing she is in a group makes me want to know how fascinating she’ll be when it’s just the two of us.

  Signalling for everyone to simmer down, Carrie stands up once more. “Fine, fine! You can all laugh at me now, but when I show up next month with store-bought snacks and Band-Aids instead of moleskin, you’ll all wish you hadn’t mocked me!”

  The table shouts in unison “No!” and “Sorry!” as she sits down across from me, rubbing shoulders with Felicity and smiling.

  This great group of people is part of a small band of locals who call Banff home all year long. The majority of residents who make the ski and tourism industries run smoothly come in seasonally. Most of the people in our hiking group either own businesses here or manage stores and programs year-round and we have found a niche within the community for ourselves.

  Lifting the weight of my stare from Carrie, I summon the attention of the table. “Alright, award winners,” heads snap back in my direction and away from the conversations that have quickly started up again. “First beer is on me. Congratulations!”

  I have somehow become the de facto leader of this ragtag group. There is a solid core of ten of us and then about another five or so on the periphery who float in and out depending on what we have planned. Every once in a while, someone new shows up in town and joins us. We don’t advertise ourselves, people just somehow hear about us. Given the volume around the table tonight, it isn’t surprising.

  Carrie sits directly across from me and lifts her pint toward me before taking her first sip. “Thanks,” she says, eyes bright and cheery. “Although I don’t know that I like the title I was given. It makes me seem old!”

  “I don’t think you need to start worrying about your age just yet. You outpaced most of the group on the hike; even with all the stops to mend people’s feet.” I add with a wink.

  Carrie blushes again and I find myself amused at her unabashed modesty in light of how capable she is of putting on a show. Her eyes drop to her glass as she takes another sip and I watch her lips settle on the rim. I did that after our last hike too. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her lips as she talked, drank and smiled. They are the perfect shade of rose and contrast with her fair skin enough to be noticeable without needing lipstick. I bet her other sensitive parts are the same colour. She looks back up at me, her eyes sparkling with the type of mischief that says she enjoys being studied. Her soft pink tongue barely pokes out to lick the beer off her lips, encouraging my dirty thoughts.

  I wasn’t going to be the guy who jumped all over the hot new girl last month, but since this is the second time she’s shown up solo to our group, it’s time to test the waters.

  “So Carrie, did you move out here by yourself?”

  “Are you asking if I have a boyfriend?”

  “Yes.” Apparently, I am as subtle as Dwayne Johnson at a casting call for The Hobbit.

  “I did move here alone. And no, no boyfriend.” Her words are clipped and succinct, telling me that she is independent and quite happily so. Add in the subtle temptress notes and she’s my kind of woman. Since I can’t very well ask her to come home with me so soon into the evening, and for the benefit of those around us who are surely paying attention, I engage her in small talk.

  “How’s the class you’re teaching?” She’s a sessional instructor for artists in social media marketing.

  She tips her head back and forth sideways in a gesture of not-so-great. “I often feel like the math teacher for remedial students. I teach the class that they have to take even though most will never understand the concepts or ever use them.” I’d take staring at her at the front of the classroom over any math teacher I ever had. Especially if it meant extra tutoring.

  While the casual conversation may be to fend off the commentary from the others about what my plans are for Carrie, she knows exactly what I’m thinking without me uttering a word. Either playing my game or suddenly feeling shy, she goes back to staring at anything that isn’t me. Her eyes meet her glass and she grips it between both hands even though she doesn’t lift it to her mouth. She can play up the chastity card all she wants. If anything, it has the opposite effect on me and makes me want her more.

  “What about you? You’re at one of the ski hills, right?” She finally offers when she catches on that I’d let the silent tension build all night.

  “That’s right. Sunshine.” Not her, the name of the hill. Although the word could suit her also. “I coordinate the racing program.”

  “Wow, that’s a pretty big job. But what about this time of year; you don’t go home in the summer?” I love how her voice inflects up an entire octave when she asks questions. I bet she sings in bed too. Her orgasms probably sound like the first birds of spring.

  “This is home. I’ve been here year-round for three years now. Work is fairly quiet during the summer and I used to leave town when the hills closed down, but Banff Park has so much to offer in all seasons.” Like new courses at the Banff Centre and the facilitators who come to teach them. “It’s a shame to only make use of one of them. Besides, I’ve made some pretty good friends here and they’d be lost without my leadership.”

  Tony, who is sitting to my right and has conveniently been listening in our conversation as I knew he would be, jabs me in the ribs. “Don’t listen to this guy, he’s full of shit. We would be fine without him. Me, on the other hand,” he scoots his chair in closer to me so he can lean across the table toward Carrie. “The group would fall apart without me.”

  I shoot him a look that says in no uncertain terms would we miss him if he left. Especially not right now while I am in the middle of a conversation with a beautiful woman who will be gracing my bed tonight. Carrie’s intrigued, though, so I keep my thoughts to myself and let her decide for herself. I know which side she’ll end up on. They always end up with me.

  “How’s that, Tony? What do you bring to this group?” Tony can walk himself over the edge of the cliff without my assistance so I lean back and fold my arms across my chest waiting for the latest instalment of the Tony Shit Show. Carrie looks at me with inquisitive eyes, wondering what it is that I know about the situation that is about to unfold. I give a slight nod in her direction telling her to wait for it.

  As expected, Tony delivers in glorified technicolour. “I book the table here at the pub,” he says enthusiastically. And so fucking seriously. Carrie waits for more but with this being the extent of his skillset, she raises her eyebrows and nods her head repeatedly in open-mouthed amusement. Even the actress has nothing in her repertoire to bolster Tony’s meagre abilities, once again proving his success in talking to a woman is equal to pointing a TV remote at a microwave.

  I have no disdain for Tony but his ineptitude with women casts a shady light on all men. And since I am aiming to move this group session with Carrie to a more private setting, Tony needs to be silenced. With no remorse, I slap him on the back and send a quick laugh in his direction before returning my gaze to Carrie. “Tony’s the manager here, so each month he types our name into the computer.” I use a tone and expression as if I were introducing the Nobel Laureate for Peace. Although Tony doesn’t catch the sarcasm, Carrie does right away and giggles softly behind her hand that covers her mouth.

  In a gently mocking fashion that Tony stands no chance of grasping, she says, “It’s an important job.” This is her house mom routine coming out again; like she is congratulating a four-year-old on his ability to colour in the lines.

  Tony smacks me hard on the chest with the back of his hand and chuffs an overly exaggerated “Ha!” Then he waves his hand in a shooing motion at me and announces, “Switch seats with me, buddy. You can’t monopolise this beautiful woman’s attention all night.” Carrie nearly chokes on the sip of beer she’s swallowing. “Come on, Carrie. Tell him to buzz off already. You don’t want this Italian sleazing all over you all night, do you?”

  “Tony!” I reply sharply, affronted by his use of the word sleaze. “You’re also Italian.”

  “Si mio amico, but I am the suave Italian, you are the –”

  I cut him off, “Don’t even say it.” I know he’s going to call me a playboy. He does it every time a new woman shows up in town. Tony is one of the most insecure guys I have ever met. He’d throw his Nona under the bus if it meant getting to talk to a pretty face. I may enjoy no strings sex, but I’d never badmouth my Nona to get some.

  I scoot my chair back as I stand up, giving him all the space he needs to move in on my territory. I’m not worried at all. “When you’re tired of this Rico suave, I’ll be
at the other end of the table.” I wink at Carrie and I walk away to the sound of her nervous laughter that shoots right to my balls.

  I drop into the seat next to Badger who promptly wraps a large hand around my shoulder and pulls me in for a side hug. “You okay, buddy? Striking out to Tony?” He asks unbelieving of what he saw take place–because it is categorically unbelievable that I would lose to Tony. In anything. Especially the attention of a woman.

  I lean away from him and gave him a displeased look. “That will never be a concern of mine. Besides, he’s talking Italian to her.” A few people around us snicker. Tony has a playbook that he rarely deviates from. He lets another guy warm a girl up to get a sense if she is open to being hit on, then he moves in. Things generally seem to go well for a while, then he sabotages himself. I have never seen him fuck up the same way twice, which is impressive considering how many women I’ve seen him hit on. For this alone, the entertainment value he offers is priceless.

  I look to Badger to see what his opinion is on the timing of things. “Give him another minute or so, Luke. Let him do his thing, then you can swoop back in with your cape aflutter and save the day.” He pauses and looks me in the eye. “If you’re sure it’s a good idea, that is.”

  I know exactly what he’s hinting at. Good thing I know how to read women. Carrie isn’t looking for anything more than I am.

  We continue to watch as Tony speaks animatedly with his hands. We can't hear what he says, but one second Carrie is smiling and the next her eyes widen and her cheeks flare-up. This is not part of her innocence act. Tony laughs too loudly for normal conversation, letting us know he's at the inappropriate part of his monologue. Carrie is paralysed while Tony is completely oblivious to her reaction.

  “Now,” Badger offers, slapping me on the back.

  I rise from my seat and casually make my way over to Carrie. I stand behind her and place my hands on the back of her chair. She tilts her head back in my direction, exposing the creamy underside of her neck. I lean in, making it look like I am about to place my lips on her but I stop just shy of the shell of her ear. The pulse in her neck ticks and I am greeted with a burst of her perfume as it activates with her sudden rise in body temperature.

  “Have you seen the brewing room here, yet? Up on the second floor is a viewing gallery. I’d love to take you up there.” She shivers at the vibration of my words on her skin and there might be a quiet moan in there somewhere. Her head swivels around in my direction and I pull my face away so our lips don’t connect accidentally. My lips are going to be on hers, just not now in front of everyone. Her eyes shine as she looks into mine and gives a wordless nod.

  "Sorry to steal her away from you like this, Tony," I say as I pull her chair out for her. He looks at me with a stare that clearly indicates how much of a prick he thinks I am. As I said, in no world will Tony ever win the girl when I'm in the ring.

  “Nice talking with you, Tony,” Carrie gives a weak wave. I place my hand on the small of her back and guide her toward the staircase leading up to the viewing gallery.

  When we are out of earshot of the table she exhales heavily. “I’d say thank you for rescuing me, but it seems like you manufactured that situation to make yourself look good.”

  “I don’t need Tony’s help to look good. You’ve been happy to look at me all night.” I spin her around so we are face-to-face.

  “That’s awfully bold.” She takes a step back and I meet her stride, maintaining our proximity.

  “But am I wrong?”

  “I’ll give you that you’re not hard on the eyes.” She says it like she’s being forced to choose between asparagus or Brussel sprouts.

  I grab on to her hips and pull her against me. Even though there is no force to the pull, her breath whooshes out of her like she’s winded. “That’s all? Not hard on the eyes? You’re not a little curious about what else I have to offer besides my charming conversation skills and good looks?”

  “Well, if it’s anything like what Tony offered–.” Her hands come to rest on my waist too and the tremor in them gives away her level of excitement despite her sarcastic tone.

  I cut her off. “Tony can’t offer you anything close to what I can,” I whisper with my cheek nearly pressed to hers. My hand comes off her waist and I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, trailing my fingers down her neck leaving her entire body quaking.

  She pulls away and looks at me with seduction in her eyes then presses her hand to my abdomen and flat-palms her way up my chest until her fingers thread through my hair. “You don’t know what he offered.”

  Maybe not the exact terms and conditions, but I’ve known Tony for a few years now and he’s pretty predictable. His repertoire boils down to stupid things he’s already done and stupider things he wants to do.

  She giggles when I tell her that and draws her thumbs down the sides of my neck with enough force to make my dick perk up. “You’re able to talk about things outside of those two topics.” She confirms my earlier point of me not being like Tony at all.

  My thoughts may not be stupid, but they are definitely far from innocent, confirmed by my erection is pressing into her stomach. “I have a few go-to topics that make me sound smarter than the average bear.”

  “Hm.” She pulls her lower lip between her teeth then put some space between us with a little shove, once again displaying her aloof attitude towards deeper connections. Carrie looks through the floor to ceiling windows that open onto the brewing room floor, addressing me suggestively in voice while feigning disinterest in body language. “Maybe we can find some time to explore those topics together.”

  Chapter 3

  Bobby

  “Oh my god,” I groan. “I shouldn’t have eaten all those fries.”

  Piper pats her belly and leans back in her chair mimicking my pose. “But they were so good!”

  While I recline trying to ease the discomfort of fullness, Brandon studies us and marvels at our lack of self-control. Not all of us can be as dedicated to our bodies as he is. To get out from under his stare, I announce that I’m going to take a walk over to that loud table and find out more about this hiking club.

  I walk up to the table and ask the person sitting closest for Tony. Every conversation around the fifteen-person table stops and all eyes zip to me. Does my voice carry in here? Confidence is not normally an issue but the metaphorical spotlight I stepped into makes me reconsider my approach for the future. Next time I will send a proxy when I want to meet people.

  The man at the opposite end of the table, who could aptly be called a mountain man due to his size and dress, barks out, “No shit!” I look around the table for a hint about what I stepped into but get nothing but big-eyed stares. Have I been pranked by our server?

  I squint my eyes slightly at the fear of making another naïve comment and look at the mountain man, the only one who has responded to my question, and say in a voice smaller than normal, “Are you Tony?”

  “Hell no!” He bellows making me jump back. Laughter erupts from almost everyone and heat rises to my cheeks.

  I am ready to cut bait and flee when another voice pipes in, “He wishes he was Tony.” A tall, lean man pushes his chair away from the table and rises. His brown hair flops into his eyes and he sweeps it back with his left hand, extending his right one over the person next to him in my direction. I lean forward awkwardly avoiding the head under Tony’s arm. Tony’s eyes rake up and down my body. My first instinct is to groan at his obviously uncouth demeanour, but I rein it in in the pursuit of friends. While I already know that Tony is not going to be one of them, and probably not mountain man either, there may be some others at this table who are less...offensive.

  Where did that guy who was making speeches go? He looked to be liked by everyone.

  I clear my throat, finding my voice and introducing myself. "Hi, I'm Bobby," I say looking around the table at everyone who has yet to resume their conversations. "I just moved here and I was told that you guys are all locals?" I don't know why I ask it as a question rather make a statement. A few people nod and I fill the void with more talking because no one is helping me out. "I, uh, thought that I, um, should start meeting some people around town." Someone, please put me out of my misery by saying something.