Page 8 of Hearts Don't Lie
Present Day, Piñon Ridge…
Exasperated, Hardin laced his fingers over the crown of his head and groaned before heading to the outfitters Cori had recommended. He needed a few things Intrepid Adventures didn’t supply their clients, expecting they would show up somewhat prepared for conditions. The mountains to his right beckoned, covered in lush, variegated green and occasional outcroppings of gray rock, the unmoving, empty chairlifts difficult to pick out against the colorful backdrop.
Ten minutes later he was closing in on the base of Granite Peak. The terrain was rocky and grassy and sloped gently until it flattened out near the closed-for-the-season lodges. He sat on one of the empty benches and stretched his legs out in front of him, still jet-lagged from the long flight in from Spain, and remembered.
Illinois, Fall Semester, Hardin’s Junior Year of High School…
The curvy, petite cheerleader from the neighboring county’s rival high school drew his attention during the homecoming varsity match. She watched him with open curiosity, not the common and effusive over-the-top fawning he loathed. So much so that his penalty shot almost failed. He scanned the sidelines of the opposing team after the kick rocketed in ugly and locked eyes with her. Something primitive sparked between them.
After the soccer game, he walked purposefully, hoping to cross paths with the auburn beauty, but she was gone. Hardin, his teammates, cheerleaders, and friends went to the Scoop to celebrate their win. He entered the crowded open patio to the side of the building, and there she was with her friends. She had changed into fashionably torn, faded skinny jeans, a long shirt over her tight T-shirt, which failed to detract from her curves. She sat at an empty round table, seeming to have claimed it for herself and a few friends.
Entranced, he approached her. “Hi. I’m Hardin,” he said, offering his hand, towering over her.
The spark from the game amplified tenfold, making the air feel as if it sizzled between them. The charge flashed through his body, causing him to inhale shakily. Caught off guard, Hardin speared his fingers through his dark hair in an attempt to collect himself.
She cocked her head and glanced up at him. “McKenna.” She didn’t offer more, nor did she take his hand.
“I saw you cheering on the sideline.”
A wide smile broke over her beautiful, freckled, heart-shaped face and carried into chestnut-brown eyes, making her even more breathtaking. “Before or after you almost shanked your kick?” McKenna asked teasingly, her eyes twinkling.
He laughed. “Touché. You play?”
“Varsity girls. Forward. But nothing like you,” she said, accepting her ice cream in a cup from one of her friends, who watched with interest but said nothing. “Thanks.” She turned her attention back to Hardin.
Something somersaulted in him as her tongue darted out and caught the melted ice cream that had dripped onto her hand. She followed it up with a small helping of mint chocolate chip. “I’d come watch you,” he said as her mouth closed around the plastic spoon.
She licked her lips before answering. “Why?”
“Because I’d like to. I’m a junior. What year are you?”
“Sophomore. Shouldn’t you be getting back to your friends? After all, you’re talking to the enemy.”
“Somehow I think that doesn’t matter. You’re in our territory.”
She inclined her head toward her friends, who were deep in conversation. “We wanted ice cream. Why drive back to our town when we can get some here?”
“I have my Jeep,” he said, watching her for a response.
Her nod was barely perceptible, but her eyes said it all. Interest. The sizzle between them intensified again.
“Tell your friends I’ll bring you home.”
“I don’t take orders, Hardin,” she countered evenly, her eyes dancing with humor.
He speared his fingers through his hair again. “Please? Now I asked.” He grinned.
She grinned back. “Since you asked nicely, I accept.”
Just like that. They spent the entire evening together talking, laughing, and grabbing a quick burger and fries at the nearby diner.
He asked Mac out before dropping her off at a friend’s house where she was joining a slumber party.
“It was fun, Hardin. But no.”
She continued turning him down over the next four months, giving him the excuse of studying or practice, and when soccer was over, extracurricular commitments. But eventually she agreed to go out with him.
Hardin’s parents’ complaints about Mac began as soon as they got wind that he was dating her. She was too young. She was “not the kind of girl he should associate with” but a social climber, a girl who could destroy his esteemed career before it even became a reality. They told him to drop the relationship before it got out of hand, confident their son would listen to them.
