Page 5 of Big and Rowdy
"Maybe the real treasure was the view," I suggest, looking out over the valley below.
Boone's laugh is warm and rich. "You sound like a greeting card, but you're probably right."
We pass several other landmarks, including a particularly treacherous bend in the trail that Boone navigates with practiced ease.
At each stop, I find myself relaxing more, laughing more easily at his jokes and asking questions about the history and wildlife of the area. Boone, for his part, seems to shed layers of that initial cockiness, revealing someone who's genuinely knowledgeable about the wilderness and passionate about preserving it.
"You hungry?" he asks as we head back down the mountain in the early afternoon. "I know a place that makes the best barbecue you've ever had."
My stomach chooses that moment to growl audibly. "I guess that answers that question."
The restaurant turns out to be a roadside shack that looks like it might blow over in a strong chinook, but the smell wafting from the kitchen is absolutely divine. We sit at a picnic table on the covered porch, sharing a platter of pulled pork and ribs that's easily enough food for four people.
"This is amazing," I say around a bite of cornbread that's probably adding years to my life and taking them off at the same time.
"May's been perfecting that recipe for thirty years. She won't give it up, even to family." Boone wipes barbecue sauce from his fingers with a paper napkin. "I've been trying to sweet-talk it out of her since I was sixteen."
"And May is immune to your charms?"
"Apparently. Though she did give me extra cornbread when I brought my prom date here, so maybe she's not completely heartless."
I feel an unexpected pang at the mention of other women. Which is ridiculous, since I've known the man for exactly four days and have no claim on him whatsoever.
"Local girl?" I ask, aiming for casualness.
"Sheriff Thompson's daughter. Seemed like a good idea at the time." His grin is rueful. "Turned out we wanted very different things out of life. She's married to a lawyer in Calgary now, has two kids and a white picket fence."
"And you're still here, riding four-wheelers through the mountains."
"Yep." He meets my eyes across the table. "Some of us know where we belong."
We finish our meal in comfortable conversation, and Boone insists on paying despite my protests. As we walk back to his four-wheeler, I find myself reluctant for the day to end.
"Thank you," I say as we reach the machine. "For the tour, and the rescue yesterday, and lunch. This has been..."
"Nice?" he suggests, stepping closer.
"Unexpected," I finish, very aware of how close he's standing, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.
"Good unexpected or bad unexpected?"
My heart is beating fast now, and I can see my own anticipation reflected in his dark eyes. "Good," I whisper.
For a moment, I think he might kiss me right there in the restaurant parking lot. But instead, he reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch gentle and brief.
"I'd like to see you again," he says simply.
"I'd like that too."
"Tomorrow night? Nothing fancy, just dinner at my place. I make a mean chili, and the view from my porch is almost as good as the one I showed you today."
I know I should probably say no. I'm only planning to stay in the area for another week, and getting involved with a local is exactly the kind of complication I usually avoid. But looking into Boone's hopeful face, I find my usual caution deserting me.
"Okay," I say. "What time?"
"Six? I'll text you directions."
As we exchange phone numbers, I try to ignore the voice in my head that's asking what exactly I think I'm doing. I'm supposed to be enjoying a peaceful solo retreat, not getting tangled up with mountain men who ride four-wheelers and make me forget why I've sworn off dating.
