Page 79 of Extreme Romancing in Idaho

Mid-morning sunshine crested the canyon rim and chased me further into the shade of the willow tree, the temperatures creeping into the eighties. Slight breezes carried smells of sagebrush, occasional wafts of stagnant water, and scents of Remi’s fresh-cut-cedar deodorant mixed with his sweat. Somehow, Remi’d become a proficient farmer, and repeatedly surprised me with his work ethic.

Although, I suspected he hired a workforce, I couldn’t prove it, but what he accomplished would be impossible alone. I couldn’t break him. The closer to harvest we got, with Remi hurdling every obstacle I threw at him, I began to panic.

Would I sell my childhood memories, a hundred years of family history, over some bet?

I couldn’t. It sickened me to think of backing out of an agreement, but I had to. I couldn’t handle losing Papa and my land. Every square inch of the property had been plowed, fertilized, planted, watered, and maintained by me, forming an unbreakable bond.

And then there was the conflict of Remi to consider. I wanted him gone. I wanted him to stay forever.

“Why don’t you believe in marriage?” The question spewed from my mouth before the thought of it had fully formed.

He lifted his gaze to meet mine for a millisecond, then he went back to contemplating his drawing in the dirt. Seconds stretched to minutes.

“I was five …”

His response was so soft I had to strain to hear him over the water.

“… when I first walked in on my dad having an affair with another woman. Didn’t take much longer before I figured out my mother had a string of lovers too. My home wasn’t like yours. Sure, my parents spoiled me with stuff, but love was lacking.”

I remained silent, afraid that if I spoke, he’d stop. Since our kiss, I sensed a shift in him. Of course, I’d been staying away from him as much as possible. It seemed like he manufactured reasons to be with me, like that blessed burger on my last shift, but he hadn’t tried to kiss me again.

My body hated him for it, but I couldn’t be the one to break first. I had to stay strong. Okay, maybe those sleepless nights had been caused by my subconscious wandering to that moment—his hand traveling to my waistband—only in my dream, I didn’t stop him …

“I guess I don’t see the point of getting married. At least I didn’t.” He stopped sifting the twig through the dirt and locked eyes with mine.

Words weren’t necessary to communicate what I saw in his deep-brown eyes. The breeze picked up, tugging a strand of my hair free. Remi brushed it back into place, moving his hand to cup my chin and tipping my head further up. I froze, and while I appeared to have halted all movement, my insides became a percussion section in a middle school band.

“Since being here, I can see the appeal of being with one woman for the rest of my life,” he whispered in my ear.

I couldn’t look away from him, and yet doubts seeped in. Why would this amazing, charismatic, caring man—who happened to be a millionaire—choose me?

I enjoyed the feel of his body next to me and despite the warm air, chills flowed from where our bare thighs touched. Sounds of the gurgling river and calls from meadowlarks and killdeer receded as all my senses fixated on him.

My chest expanded with my deep breath, and I savored our contact.

“Angie, I—” He stopped, even though I waited to hear what he had to say.

His thumb traced the line of my jaw, my bottom lip, and my cheek. I closed my eyes, savoring his touch, anticipating the pressure of his lips on mine—alarmed by how much I yearned for it.

Why, oh,whydid I always fall for the wrong guy?

Tires crunching against gravel pulled me out of the cocoon Remi had woven around me. My eyes flicked open. Remi’s breaths still fluttered against my face as he slowly dropped his hand, allowing me to drift further from him.

Daniel, I reminded myself. I would see Daniel in a few days, and his goals matched mine. He wanted a family. It wouldn’t be good to be hung up on Remi the entire time I was with Dan.

Disappointment and longing collided in every one of Remi’s non-verbal cues. The slight sag in his shoulders, the way he didn’t relinquish his hand immediately, and his eyes spoke volumes. It almost made me sad as I stood and pushed the willowy branches aside to see better who’d joined us.

“Myles?” Remi’s friend towed a trailer with a raft in it, and next to him, in the cab were … my parents. I turned back to Remi. “Why are they here?”

I hadn’t told Mama or Papa about my ‘adventures with Remi’ as I liked to call them. Mama would have a heart attack, and Papa would lecture me on unnecessary risk.

“Believe it or not, your dad asked to do this.” Remi walked past me to assist Papa from the truck.

With as much care as if Papa was his own father, Remi gently gripped Papa’s forearm and waited for Mama to come to his other side. Once again, my eyes clouded with tears. Over the last couple of weeks, Papa had become much weaker, a constant reminder we would be forced to say goodbye sooner than I ever planned.

I swallowed around the lump in my throat and forced a smile. For the remainder of the time we had, come hell or high water, I would make the most of it.

Myles opened a reclining camp chair near the spot where Remi and I had been sitting, and Mama and Remi deposited Papa in the chair. Remi must have bought that specific chair to allow my father the most comfort. I walked to Mama, who rested a hand on Papa’s shoulder while Myles and Remi unloaded the raft.

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