Page 25 of Her Wild Coast Refuge

She and Quinn untangle while I chase down the runaway thermos. We all pile into the truck, me in front and Quinn in the back. Lexie’s cheeks are flushed a rosy pink and she avoids making eye contact with us.

In the rearview mirror, Quinn and I exchange a glance. Do we make her nervous?

“You two stay out of trouble last night?” she asks once we’re underway. A wide copper colored bracelet on her wrist adorned with a green and gold design catches my eye, but I tamp down my urge to touch it.

I turn up the radio. It’sPaying For Itby Levi Hummon.

“We nearly starved, but we managed,” Quinn replies. “Where’s this dining room of yours? We called every place in town looking for you.”

She gives us a look before accelerating onto the freeway. “Soren Lake Lodge.”

Our flight with Ken took us past the handsome lodge and tidy cabins tucked into the trees, but I’m already familiar with the business and its connection to the pristine fishing grounds nearby. “Why the dining room and not a fishing guide?”

“I told you I’m not a guide.” She notices my thumbs tapping to the beat. “Feel free to change the channel.”

“This is working just fine.”

“What kind of music do you like?”

“All kinds,” I reply.

“Punk? Country? Oldies?”

“Every type of music has its contribution.”

We exit the freeway and Lexie turns east on a wide road flanked by giant fir trees that shade the sun like a tunnel.

“What’s your favorite song?” she asks.

I fake-clutch my heart. “That’s like asking a mama to name her favorite child.”

“Okay, then top three.”

“We’re doing Desert Island Disc on only our second date?” I tease. “Challenge accepted.”

We each share the songs we love. My three aren’t mainstream, but all would deliver a lifetime of satisfaction. To my surprise, Lexie and Quinn both name one of my songs. Lexie’s isHigh Wire, and Quinn’s isFall Back.

Quinn also names his favorite song of all time, the Smith’sHow Soon is Now?We used to sing that song at top volume before heading out to one party or another—back in the good old days before everything changed.

It’s a song of deep longing and loneliness, with a haunting guitar chord that might as well be a beacon on a cold, dark night.

“I love that song!” Lexie says.

I scoff. “You’re a Smith’s fan? They broke up before you were even born.”

To my shock, she croons the best line of the song, exaggerating a wistful expression.

Quinn gives her a golf clap but catches my eye long enough to express his appreciation regarding this development.

Lexie laughs, then nods at me. “Your turn.”

I give her ponytail a teasing tug, and she laughs again. “Tell me how you fell in love with fishing.”

She turns onto a gravel road paralleling a wide, shallow river. The cool mineral scent of the water drifts into the cab, reminding me of how I started my morning, the sound of my voice and chords mingling with the thick mountain air.

“I fell in love with rivers first. Fishing came later.”

“Who taught you?”

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