carefully down the riverbank to the edge of the rushing water and dips a cloth in with which she wipes at the back of her neck and face. I've got a perfect view of her ass as she bends down. Full and round, straining at her hiking pants. I take an even larger bite of my sandwich. Chew it almost aggressively. It's too easy to imagine grabbing her by the ass and pulling her toward me. Squeezing her cheeks tight.
Mercifully Anita stands and comes back over to sit down. She flashes me a smile and takes up her sandwich. "So, I've been meaning to ask, how do you know Soren?"
Luckily my mouth's full, and that buys me time to think. The impulse to hide my identity was a natural one; I was sufficiently intrigued by Anita to want to keep talking to her, but protective enough of my privacy to want to guard it. Now I have to figure out how best to keep the deception going without letting it spin out of control.
"I've known Soren for a long time. You could say we grew up together on the same mountain."
"Your families were close?" Anita's eyes are bright, her manner attentive and curious.
"Yeah, you could say that." Inspiration hits. "His mother raised me as one of her kids."
"Oh? What happened to your family?"
Crud. "I don't know." Keep it simple. I'm starting to feel distinctly uncomfortable with lying. But what can I do? "I don't remember them." Anita's expression of sympathy makes me feel even more uncomfortable. "So, who's this big investor of yours? The one who's so interested in the honey?"
"His name's Oliver Whitman. He's a big deal out in Boston, a chef and restaurateur." Anita's voice turns a little strange. Her excitement seems just a shade forced.
I eye her carefully. "And how well do you know him? He a good person to do business with?"
This time it's her turn to take a bite of the sandwich and buy herself some time. I wait, chewing on mine, watching as she looks everywhere but at me. Finally she washes it down with a gulp of water. "I don't know him too well, mostly just by his reputation. He's very successful, and very respected in the industry."
"Hmm." That doesn't sound too reassuring. "So how do you know if you can trust him?"
Anita lowers her sandwich and stares to the side, down at the river. Her attitude shifts. That brittle wall of enthusiasm falls, her face momentarily revealing a melancholy that surprises me. "I don't, to be honest. But I need to, all the same."
Strange. Concern rises within me. My bear senses something wrong. Speaking gently, I ask, "Why do you need to?"
Anita sighs and looks down at her lap. Takes a deep breath, then looks up with a forced smile. "Because I need my bakery to be a success, of course!" She's smiling, but her eyes are still sad. There are depths there that I can't fathom. Not yet. Pain. Loss. Determination. I'm sure it has something to do with that creep who was accosting her in town. What was his name? Gerry?
"Anita." I set my sandwich aside and move forward to crouch before her. "What's going on?"
"Going on?" She pretends to be surprised by my question. "Nothing's going on. I'm just determined to make my bakery a success, is all. Is that so weird?"
The wind blows through the trees, causing splashes of sunlight like golden coins to dance across her face. We hold each other's gazes, and she looks away first. "Shall we get going? We've got a long way to go still, right?"
"Right," I say, standing up. My heart feels heavy. I don't know why I care. But I do. I'm strangely invested in this gorgeous woman's problems. She's like a river, calm and beautiful on the surface, but with dangerous currents beneath, depths and rocks that I know she's trying to hide.
Anita bundles away what's left of the sandwiches, and then stands with a groan. "Ooh. My legs are already stiff."
I smile. "I'll go slow, give you time to warm up."
Anita grins at me. "Sounds good. But we can go as fast as you like once you've got me warmed up." Then, comically, her face goes bright red.
I laugh. "Is