Page 1 of Promise Me Never

One

ELIANA

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Brilliant blue sky meets the snow-capped Rocky Mountains as the small commuter jet touches down in Crested Butte. My excitement for a summer at my grandparents’ ranch grows with each passing minute. I worked damn hard to make my second year of college at UCLA a success, and I kicked this year’s ass, if I say so myself. I deserve to spend a few months relaxing and living in the moment.

Both semesters consisted of eighteen hours of coursework on top of volunteering for multiple student organizations. Nothing less is expected of me, though, as the daughter of two highly esteemed geologists. Both of my parents teach at UCLA, and I’m not naive enough to think their positions didn’t help me gain entrance to the school, but I earned my full-ride scholarship on my own, mostly through all the advanced coursework I took in high school.

If they weren’t spending the summer in eastern Europe teaching courses, I’d be back in LA, probably taking a few classes over the summer. I can’t say that I’m sad to see them go. Over the past year I’ve watched my friends grow closer to their parents as distance was placed between them. Seeing how happy everyone was to be together at parents’ weekend really hammered in what I had always known but never acknowledged: My parents love my intellect, but beyond that there’s no connection.

I’ve always known that to make my parents proud, I had to excel in school. It’s why I killed myself to graduate high school as the valedictorian. Nothing made me happier than earning my scholarship, though. It was the only way I would have been able to choose a business degree over following them into the STEM field. I enjoy science, and I’m good at it, but I want to blaze my own path.

I smile at the flight attendant as I step off the plane, rolling my carry-on bag behind me. My phone chimes with notifications as I turn it back on, including a text from my grandpa telling me that he had to send a ranch hand out to pick me up. It’s ridiculous, but my heart pinches with disappointment. I haven’t seen him or Grandma in over two years, but I get it, life gets busy when you’re running a huge ranch in the middle of nowhere.

I scan the crowd as I wait near the baggage carousel to see if I can pick him out. My eyes land on a tall man with a baseball cap that has the High Point Ridge Ranch insignia on it. He hasn’t noticed me looking at him yet, so I take my time looking him over. Dusty leather work boots and denim-clad legs lead up to a narrow waist, his plain white t-shirt stretches across the muscles of his chest and shoulders. Despite it only being spring, he’s already got a light tan starting. As my eyes move up to his face, I’m met with a piercing blue gaze.

He strides across the space between us like it’s personally offended him. Or maybe it was my blatant staring. As he approaches I flash him an unsure smile; he’s hot, but it also looks like something crawled up his ass and died. I don’t want to join it.

“Eliana Hart?” he asks with an unexpectedly gravelly voice.

“Yes.” I hold my hand out. “Everyone just calls me Eli.”

He looks down at my outstretched hand like he thinks he might catch something from it. “What do your bags look like?”

I withdraw my hand. “They’re both light blue. Same as this one.” I tap my carry-on with my foot.

All I get in acknowledgment is a slight nod as his attention moves to the carousel. After a couple of long, tense moments, it begins moving. His eyes stay fixed to the hole the bags emerge from. My bags are some of the first to come through, and we both move toward them. He grabs the bigger one, and as I reach for the smaller, he gets there first, lifting both bags like it’s nothing. Honestly, it probably is nothing considering his job.

“I could have gotten one.” If there’s one thing my parents' disengagement has taught me, it’s how to be independent.

“It’s no trouble.” He gestures toward the sliding doors with his head. “Truck’s out there.”

I follow behind him, my legs being no match for his long strides. I can only imagine how fun the drive to the ranch is going to be with this guy. I walk right into his back as I take in the view around me.

“Sorry, I forgot how blue the sky’s supposed to be.” The joke falls flat as he lifts my bags into the bed of the truck.

“These are gonna get dirty,” he says, tossing the final bag up.

“I’m not worried.”

He grunts a response and walks to the passenger door, confusing the fuck out of me. He pulls it open, and I look at him. Am I supposed to drive? My brows pull together as I look at him.

“Get in.” He sweeps his arm toward the passenger seat with a roll of his eyes.

“Oh.” My cheeks heat as I slide past him into the seat. He waits until I’m in and closes the door behind me.

“Smoggy skies and no chivalry,” he mutters under his breath as he gets in the cab of the truck.

“I don’t even know your name, and you speak in grunts and incomplete sentences, how was I supposed to know you had it in you to open a car door for me?” This guy’s attitude is starting to piss me off.

“Luke.”

“What?”

He looks over at me before putting on a pair of sunglasses. “My name is Luke.”

Our eyes hold for a second past comfortable, and I say nothing.

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