Page 23 of Love Me Dangerous

She caught me by surprise, but it won’t happen again. I fight the urge to look back, take her in one more time. She looked even prettier today, with the sun on her tanned cheeks and the wind in her long hair.

I’ll have to get to the ranch some other way than the free bus from town. If only I still had my mountain bike.

As if I needed a reminder, two people on bikes fly past me in a blur of color and shifting gears, kicking up dust.

It makes me think of the long rides I used to take with my family friend Evan McCabe back home. When things got hard, the McCabes were there for me and William, and when I was forced to leave, they are the only people I trusted to keep him safe.

I find the section of weathered snow drift fencing Stu described and the new material I’ll need to fix it at the top of the slope. With the hot sun beating down on my shoulders, I slip on the leather gloves and grab the drill and bag of screws from my pack.

Replacing the old boards gives my hands something to do, but my mind wanders back to the lift ride. Is Gabe Sofie’s ex, then?What was happening that night I yanked him off her? I forgot to ask about the brother—Jesse. But maybe doing so would tip her off that I’m angry.

Because what kind of big brother gets high, then climbs behind the wheel and puts his sister in danger like that? What would have happened if I hadn’t gone after them?

I haven’t told anyone.

Why is she willing to keep me a secret?

And how does she know I need her to?

Her comment about finishing college makes me wonder why she quit going. Money? From the newspaper article Henry showed me, I know her dad works for Idaho Fish & Game, which means he probably makes less than a teacher.

Just because you’re elusive means I’m nosy?

I can’t help but smile at this now that I’m alone.

Sassy, huh?

Her invitation rings through my mind.Because it’s fun.I might as well have forgotten what that’s like.

A sudden heat pricks down my spine, but I heave a full breath to force it into the ground.

Because no matter how curious I am about Sofie Whittaker, spending time with her is too risky.

By noon, I have the new posts in and the tiny security camera installed on the one Stu wanted. I carry my pack to a shady spot in the trees opposite the slope and take out my water bottle and two sandwiches. I eat the first sandwich in four bites, then gulp water to slow myself down. Since I landed at Henry and Barb’s, my hunger has only intensified, sometimes waking me in the middle of the night. I try to enjoy the second sandwich, but it’s gone too fast. I’m about to pack up and return to fencing when the distant whine of dirt bikes from the east cuts the silence.

Finn River Ranch is over 15,000 acres and borders a mix of wilderness and public land. Dirt biking isn’t allowed on ranch property, and it’s certainly not allowed on land designated as wilderness.

I slip the binoculars Stu issued me and zero in on the dust cloud rising into the air on a ridge across a broad valley. There are two riders, the warbling buzz of the engines rising above the breeze high in thetrees. Before I can get any details, the bikes roll over the ridge and out of sight.

The sun is melting into the western foothills by the time I finish the final section and double-check with Stu about the camera function, so I pack up my tools and hike back up the ridge. I’m sweaty, and my hunger is an empty burn in my chest. The faded wild daisies bend in the wind buffeting over the ridge. I give the liftie a wave before skirting the back of the bullwheel, and he walks over to load me onto the chair.

My feet dangle over the abyss as the chair reattaches to the cable and accelerates down the mountain. From up here, the fancy village buildings and surrounding million-dollar homes look like those mini houses in a Monopoly game, and the only sounds are the stiff wind and the rattle of the chair through the tower wheels.

Stu offered me an apprentice job to become a lift mechanic this winter, but that’s more Sawyer’s jam than mine. Plus, I’m not sure I’m staying. It depends on what’s happening back home.

And if Sofie keeps her promise.

A shiver chatters through me.

After checking out with Stu—nothing to report besides the dirt bikers—I watch from the safety of a parked van to make sure Sofie isn’t riding the employee bus back, then hurry onboard.

Once in town, I head for the Radio Shack in a strip mall and pay cash for a new burner phone and pre-paid card good for 100 minutes. Then I walk to the small square in the center of town. Traffic has died down considerably since my first visit here after the accident. Only a few cars pass me, and the adjacent grocery store parking lot is only one-quarter full. But Stu warned that when it starts snowing, Finn River will be packed till Easter.

There’s an ice cream kiosk at one end of the square and a kid’s water sculpture in the middle. Along the back is a covered eating area with picnic benches. With summer long over, the ice cream kiosk is closed, and the eating area is deserted.

Sawyer answers on the second ring.

“About fucking time,” Sawyer mutters.

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