Page 28 of Riding with the Secret Billionaire

He looks down at me, something unguarded in his expression that makes my heart beat faster."There's a lot I want to show you, Trish.If we had the time."

The simple statement carries more weight than its words suggest.

"Maybe we'll find it," I say softly."The time."

He doesn't respond verbally, but his hand finds mine, fingers intertwining with a sureness that belies the uncertainty of oursituation.We stand that way for several minutes, connected by that simple point of contact.

When we finally return to the truck, something has shifted between us again.Not a resolution, there are still too many unanswered questions for that, but a mutual acknowledgment that whatever happens in Foxfire Valley, what we've found on this journey matters.To both of us.

Jake navigates the winding mountain roads that will eventually lead us out of Colorado and into Nevada, while I study him more openly thanbefore.The controlled power in his hands on the wheel has shifted since that first day even though the focused attention he gives to the roadremains.This time, though, I don't miss the occasional glances he casts my way when he thinks I'm notlooking,all of it speaks to the complexity of the man I've improbably fallen for over the course of a fewdays.

"What?" he asks, catching mestaring.

"Just thinking," I reply, not quite ready to voice all that's on mymind.

"Dangerous pastime," he comments, but his tone islight.

"Only if you're afraid of theconclusions."

His eyes meet mine briefly before returning to theroad."And what conclusions have you reached, TrishWalker?"

I consider the question, aware that my answer carriesweight."That some detours are worth taking, even if you don't know where they'll lead."

The corner of his mouth lifts in that almost-smile I've come tocherish."Some detours change your destinationentirely."

"Is that what's happening here?" I ask, suddenly needingclarity."Are we changingdestinations?"

His hands tighten almost imperceptibly on thewheel."I don't know," he admits. "But for the first time in a long time, I'm open to thepossibility."

It's not a declaration of love or a promise offorever.But coming from Jake Winters, man of rigid plans and careful control, it might be something even moresignificant.

It's an opening of a door I thought firmly closed, an invitation to explore whatever this connection between us might become, beyond the constraints of our journey to FoxfireValley.

And for now, that'senough.

9

JAKE

The Nevada state line appears in the distance as the sun begins its descent toward the western horizon.We've been driving for hours, conversation flowing more easily than I would have expected after the intensity of our stop at the overlook.Trish has been telling me about her years in Toronto, her journey from lifestyle journalist to social justice reporter, the challenges and satisfactions of her career.

I share more than I normally would as I drive, telling stories from my time in the Marines that I rarely discuss, the early days of building my security firm,even a few carefully selected anecdotes about my life before Valerie that don't feel like betrayal to speak aloud.The ease between us is both comforting and unsettling, a reminder of how quickly and completely this woman has breached my defenses.

"Welcome to Nevada," I say as we cross the state line."Last leg of our journey."

Trish stretches in her seat, her movement drawing my eye despite my best efforts to stay focused on the road."Hard tobelieve we're almost there.It feels like we've been traveling for weeks, not days."

I understand the sentiment. Time has taken on a strange elasticity since Toronto, stretching and compressing in ways that have little to do with the actual passage of hours.In some ways, it feels like I've known Trish far longer than our brief acquaintance would suggest.In others, the time has flown by too quickly, leaving me grasping for more.

"We should reach Foxfire Valley by early afternoon tomorrow," I say, returning to practical matters."The Heirloom Rose is expecting us."

"Have you stayed there before?" she asks.

"Once, during the initial security assessment for the wedding." I change lanes to pass a slower vehicle."It's impressive, very upscale."

"So I've heard. That waitress in Rustic Junction couldn't stop raving about it."

I nod, recalling Melody's enthusiastic description."It's Vegas-adjacent luxury without the Vegas crowds.Still has gambling, shows, the works, but on a more intimate scale."

---