Page 42 of Boston
She sat, still trying to catch her breath, unsure if it was because of the altitude, or the climb, or the stunningly beautifulman who’d packed lunch for her, or the view of the crystal blue lake below.
“How many people do you think have seen this spot on earth?” she asked. “It’s so pretty.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “This is our Crystal Mountain Lake hike, and it doesn’t get booked as often as I would like it to.”
“You have it listed as moderate to advanced,” she said. “Maybe that’s why. Families probably want a beginning hike.”
“Would you call that a beginning hike?” he asked.
“No, sir.” She smiled at him as he passed her a sandwich. “Oh, what have we got here?”
Boston sighed the sigh of the century as he sank onto the stool next to her, then half-rose and adjusted it a little bit further away. His knee still barely touched hers, and Cora wondered if he’d done that on purpose or not.
“These are my grandmother’s famous chicken spam sandwiches,” he said. “There’s a little bit of chopped boiled egg in there too.”
Cora unsealed the top of her bag and pulled out half of the sandwich.
“That bread is homemade,” he said. “From my cousin Joey. She did a couple years at culinary school, and she’s a great baker who sells pies and bread year-round.”
The slight scent of sourdough and mayo and a little bit of dill rolled up to meet Cora’s nose, and her stomach practically screamed at her.
“This looks amazing.” She sank her teeth into the sandwich. There was definitely pickle juice in this, and the tartness of it exploded through her mouth, tamed by the creamy mayo. The salty spam came after that, with the more mild chicken and the texture of the hard boiled egg ending the magnificent bite.
“I love this,” she said around her mouth full of food. That caused Boston to laugh, one of Cora’s favorite sounds.
“I’m glad, sweetheart.” He pulled out his sandwich as well, and they ate as they drank in the view of the glorious Teton mountains, the big, blue open sky above, the dark green pine trees punctuating the slate gray mountains and sky and clouds. All of it filled Cora with wonder.
“I can’t believe I didn’t want to come back here,” she said, also not quite believing that the words had come out of her mouth.
“Coral Canyon is not even close to Miami,” Boston said. He gave her a bag of ridged potato chips, a couple of long dill pickle spears that were as cold as ice, and a chocolate pudding cup as if she were five years old. The whole lunch charmed her, and Cora adored the simplicity of it all.
Too soon, he started packing up, and her legs protested as she got back to her feet. “I really thought I could do six miles.”
Boston looked at her sharply. “Oh, you’re gonna do six miles. I can’t carry you, Cora-Cat.”
She grinned at him, moved over into his personal space, and wrapped her fingers around one strap of his backpack. “You can’t? You’re so tall and big and strong.”
He gazed down at her, and she noticed when his eyes dropped to her mouth and came back up. “Nevertheless,” he said in that gruff, almost hoarse voice he used when she had unsettled him. “You’ll have to walk the rest of the way yourself.”
“Oh, all right,” Cora said, grinning at him.
They set off again, and she focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Their conversation had dwindled a little bit, which she didn’t mind. Finally, Boston said, “Here we are.”
She looked up and picked up the pace as she walked about ten feet behind him. He’d stopped at the edge of the trees, and he moved to the right as she came up behind him. A wide square cabin appeared in her view and relief flagged through Cora mightily.
“Wow,” she said. “This looks amazing.”
“Does it?” Boston asked, plenty of incredulity in his voice. “Do you notseethat tree jammed down into the back corner of the roof?”
Cora frantically searched, and it sure didn’t take her long to find what he meant. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” Boston said darkly. “Let’s go see what the damage is and if we can even stay here tonight.”
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
Boston had never been less amused about something in his life. Six-plus miles of hiking, and the accommodations had a tree through the roof? God was either trying to test him or be funny, and Boston didn’t know which was worse.
