Page 9 of The Love Hoax
I know I am blessed.
The one possession I’ve kept the same is my car. I still drive my ten-year-old Honda and will until it dies on me. It’s a reminder of how quickly life can change. It keeps me humble.
I am still a kid from Denver, still an inner geek and adventure seeker. The two character traits are rarely found in the same man but I’ve never been typical.
As far as my mother and sister are concerned the only thing left for me to conquer is a meaningful relationship.
Where once their comments were veiled as innocent inquiries, in recent years they have become more blatant.
You’re too picky. Will anyone ever be good enough? You’ve become too big for your britches.
What the heck are britches, anyway?
They have me pegged all wrong. I want a partner, someone to travel with, to hike the world with, to grow old with. I just haven’tfound her yet. In all fairness, I spent many years either holed up in a room with a computer surrounded by tech-obsessed nerds or alone on a rocky mountain. It doesn’t make for meeting compatible women.
I should feel guilty for lying to my family about being engaged but it’s the first reprieve I’ve had in years. Sadly, my goose is now cooked, the chickens about to come home to roost.
The fowl metaphors remind me that I am famished.
I grab my brown leather jacket and head out. Zane will be waiting for me at the billiards table in the back of Yosemite Sam’s. I pat my jeans pocket, glad I have some cash. If history is any indication, I will be paying my buddy a bundle by night’s end.
Chapter Eight
Evie
Itake a deep breath of Yosemite’s mountain air, allowing the bliss to fill me. The weather is a perfect sixty-seven degrees with bright blue skies dotted with puffy white clouds. My watch app tells me I’ve clocked three miles with minimal elevation. The low-impact hike around the lake is breathtaking, optimal for getting my week of solo treks off to a spectacular start.
I make my way to the parking lot, hop into the Porsche and check my messages.
Paul has sent me a photo of Caroline grinning, a black and red takeout box beside her. It’s from Le Marais. Who knew they delivered to hospitals? The photo brings a smile to my face.
She’ll be okay.
My stomach grumbles loudly. I’d intended to stop for something to eat on the way to the park but didn’t want to miss the daylight. Now I am starving. I search on my phone for a place tograb a bite between the park and the hotel and find one option dab smack between the two. I will be there in twenty-five minutes.
The place sounds benign enough.
I hitStarton the navigation and head straight for Yosemite Sam’s.
Chapter Nine
Adam
Zane is sitting in the back of Yosemite Sam’s, drumming his fingers toHighway to Heaven, playing over the ceiling speakers, when I find him.
“Hey, buddy. Glad to see you’re still in one piece,” he says as I fist-bump him.
“You too, man.”
The bar-and-grill is half-filled, mostly with regulars. The tourists typically seek out the familiar chains closer to downtown Merced.
Zane, a dark-skinned He-Man with pulled-back dreadlocks, is arguably the best climber in Yosemite. He has conquered Half Dome and El Capitan several times as well as many of the most challenging climbs in the West.
A matronly waitress with an infectious smile comes over with two bottles of local lager. “Your usual, gentlemen. I’ll have the burgers out in a jiffy.”
“Thanks, Dorothy,” I say. “Please opena tab for me.”
“Sure thing.”
