Page 10 of Moonlight With Maddox
The road winds up through the mountain, as the sun starts to dip lower in the sky. I sneak a look at Maddox as he drives, jaw clenched tight, and his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
This is not the man who kissed me on the porch last night. That man’s touch had been warm and gentle. This one, looks like he’s carrying something heavy on his shoulders.
I trace my fingertips over my case again. “So, what’s the plan? Straight up to Lookout Point, or are we stopping anywhere along the way?”
“Straight up,” he says in a clipped tone. “If we time it right, you’ll have some extra time to set up and get the shot you need.”
I blink at him, still wanting some kind of answer to this complete one-eighty he’s done. It can’t be something I’ve done, I haven’t seen him since he dropped me off last night. Maybe something happened at work? Or maybe I imagined everything last night meant something.
“Did something happen today?” I ask. “You seem—different.”
His grip on the wheel tightens. “No, nothing happened today.”
The way he says today, makes it clear that something had to have happened last night after he dropped me off.
It stings more than I want to admit, that he doesn’t want to tell me, but then again, he doesn’t owe me anything. I force myself to focus on the view out my window, reminding myself why I’m here—to help Aunt Connie and to get my assignment done. I press my lips together and swallow the questions I want to ask. The silence pushes an even wider divide between us in this cab.
Maybe I was foolish to start thinking about the possibility of staying in Maple Ridge, to finally slow down, and maybe even find someone, but that kind of happy ending just might not be in the cards for me.
11
Maddox
By the time we rattle up the last stretch of road, the sun is slipping low in the sky, washing everything in rustic amber light. Lookout Point comes into view—stone walls, weathered benches, and the wide sweep of Maple Ridge covered in the warm glow of an early evening sky.
When I first suggested to Leni that I could bring her up here to get some photos of the town below, I hadn’t counted on all the tourists. Minivans, rental SUVs, and the parked tour bus blocking half the view. There are people standing around everywhere. Nearly all of them have their phones out and the others are huddled together to get their picture taken, trying to find just the right angle to capture the best view.
Normally you might run into a few people up here at any given time, but the influx of people is all thanks to the Fall Festival.
I glance at Leni. The excitement she’d worn when I picked her up, and before I was a complete and utter jackass to her, is gone. It’s replaced by the tight line of her mouth.
“So, I guess word got out,” I say, trying to sound light.
“Yeah,” she says in a clipped tone as she digs her camera out of its case. “I gathered as much.”
I ease the truck into a space and cut the engine. “Are you sure you need this shot?”
Her eyes spark with annoyance when they meet mine. “Of course, I do. It’s the whole reason I came up here with your grumpy ass.”
The sharpness in her voice catches me off guard, even though it shouldn’t. I bite back the urge to defend myself, and I try to convince myself that she isn’t mad at me so much as she is with the crowd for stealing her view. Still, something about her frustration presses against the restless knot sitting in my chest since last night.
“Okay,” I say, hands raised in surrender. “I was just checking.”
She doesn’t say another word and hops out of the truck without even waiting for me. I guess I’m lucky she didn’t do something like slam my hand in the door.
I follow after her as she weaves her way through the crowd, her camera slung across her chest. She stops at the edge and holds her camera up to her face. She tries to frame a shot, shifting left and right, but every angle holds some kind of obstacle in her way to get the perfect picture. After a few minutes, I can see the defeat in the slump of her shoulders. She’s going to miss the light if she doesn’t take the shot.
I close the distance between us and study her profile as she stares out at the valley below. The stubborn tilt of her chin, the little crease between her brows. I don’t like seeing the disappointment in her expression, especially since I’ve played a couple parts in this situation to make her feel this way. Even if she does walk out of my life at the end of this trip, I owe it to her to help her find another place to get the picture.
An idea pops into my mind, a lost memory from my childhood that I hadn’t thought about in years. There’s another spot, farther up the mountain my dad used to take me when I was a kid. A secret place where you can see the whole valley, without anyone crowding in.
“Come on,” I say, nodding over my shoulder towards my truck.
“Where?”
I lean in so only she can hear me. “I know a better view. But it’s slightly off the beaten path.”
“I don’t know.” Hesitation flickers across her face, and I can’t really blame her. I’ve run hot and cold on her so many times in twenty-four hours.
