Elise Sudbury Keeps a Killer Pace (Kisses and Capers in Rancho Invitado #1)

1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Elise

S pending time in nature is good for the soul, at least that’s what people have said. Well, those people didn’t know what it was like to spend a week co-coaching with Dylan Harper in these once wonderful, now lonely woods.

These mountains, with their tall pines, singing streams and scattered patches of wildflowers, used to be a sanctuary after coming up here every summer for the last nineteen years to attend this running camp put on by Dad, only he was gone now, and he wasn’t coming back. I don’t care what anyone, especially the police, had said about needing to find a body. He never, and I mean never, would have missed the biggest race of the year, the race he’d invented that people drove for two days on a bus just to run, unless he was dead.

Now, instead of him being in charge of all these unruly teens at this camp, it was me, which made positively everything about this place feel so wrong. He should be here, jogging around in his embarrassingly skimpy eighties style shorts, giving everyone pep talks and high fives, and wrapping me in a hug every chance he got. That void, that black chasm of emptiness inside my heart, grew deeper and made it harder to function with every day.

It didn’t help that I was ninety-nine point nine, nine percent sure he had been murdered. That gnawed at me as much as anything.

For now, I just had to survive this last day here, and we would pack up and head home in the morning. I could act like I didn’t see Dad’s face almost everywhere I went, while also keeping the secret that I was no longer injured and all I wanted to do was run up and down every single trail here, for that long, couldn’t I?

I stood to greet our fastest boys as they came thundering into the dusty parking lot, chests heaving. A few seconds later, my least favorite person came bounding into view alongside three other runners and my sweet golden retriever, Bessey. Dylan gave a whoop as he snatched up his Gatorade and poured almost the entire bottle over his obnoxiously bright-blue hair.

What a waste. I rolled my eyes and jogged over to offer my dog a drink. Honestly, Pete, an old family friend who was also the local college’s Cross-Country Coach, and Principal Hodges, my new boss, must have been delusional to suggest Dylan as my assistant coach. And don’t remind me about all the times Pete had said Dylan and I would be perfect for each other while giving me a sly wink. Ick, no way would I ever, and I mean ever, consider dating that boy.

Besides, if I had to listen to him belt out “Eye of the Tiger” one more time during this camp, I was going to murder him.

After four days of prank after childish prank, his ever-increasing body odor—why, oh, why hadn’t our campground installed showers yet— and enough stupid jokes to make even the most sane person lose their mind, not a jury in the world would convict me.

“Come on, Girl,” I said to Bessey, calling her over into the shade of a swaying oak tree to get her out of the heat.

A breeze lifted the hair of my sandy-blonde ponytail off my sweaty back, and I sighed in momentary relief. I leaned down to stretch my legs in preparation for the secret run I would take after everyone had gone to bed and spotted Rose, a freshman who had recently joined the team, limping on one good ankle toward me, her face crumpled in pain.

I hurried to meet her, then helped her to the rock I’d sat on just moments earlier.

“You okay?” I asked when she was settled.

She gave an embarrassed snort. “I guess. I feel so stupid for falling right in the middle of the run. The worst part is everyone’s going to say I’m just faking because I didn’t want to do the workout.”

As if on cue, a few of our faster girls who had just completed the course gave Rose an icy stare before turning to murmur to one another.

“Hold that thought; I’ll be right back,” I said before rushing to my car for the first-aid kit.

A minute later, I returned with the items. I gave my head a decisive shake before bending to secure an ice pack around her ankle. “Ignore those girls; it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. Do you know what my favorite part of this sport is?”

Rose lifted her brown-eyed gaze to my face.

“It challenges each of us in a uniquely personal way. It allows you to push yourself, to prove to yourself that you can do so much more than you thought you could if you just work hard and don’t quit. It’s not about anyone else, just you.

“You’ve done your best during our training camp this week. It’s not your fault you tripped and got injured. All anyone can ask is for you to give what you have. You’ve done that, and you should feel proud.”

Rose’s shoulders were still slumped. “There’s just so much pressure for me to do well, and so far, all I’ve done is stink it up. I’ve come in last place every run so far.”

I nodded. “Being in last place can be hard. But I’ve also never heard you complain about any of the runs, which isn’t something I can say about a lot of the other people here. This camp isn’t supposed to be easy, but you’ve done everything we asked with a good attitude. That’s saying a lot.”

She scrunched her freckle-covered nose. “I know but that’s not enough. What if I don’t ever become fast like Avery?”

Now it all made sense. I’d run with Rose’s older sister, and she was extremely talented. Even though I’d been training since I was five, Avery had always been close behind me.

“That’s not fair to compare yourself to her. You’re not Avery; you’re you. I promise that as long as you’re trying your hardest, no matter what place you come in, I will be proud of you.”

That earned me a tentative smile. Next, I stooped to pour Bessey some more water from my bottle. She managed to slurp up most of it before it splashed onto the dirt.

“She did great today,” Dylan called as he approached.

I tried not to growl. I couldn’t believe I let that moron talk me into letting him lead my furry bestie on the team trail run instead of me since I was still “too injured” to go. At least as far as anyone here knew.

Why had I given in to his incessant nagging? Now, Bessey would be too tired to run with me after everyone disappeared into their tents to sleep tonight. I’d be as good as a burrito with legs to any nearby bears or mountain lions.

“I knew she’d love getting out in nature since she’s been stuck at camp all week with you.”

“Thanks,” I said through gritted teeth. I couldn’t tell him she’d been running at least six or seven miles with me each night after everyone went to bed.

Everyone assumed that I hadn’t recovered from the potentially career ending injury I’d sustained last year during the biggest race of my life, and after everyone chose to believe the lie that I was faking the injury told by the very teammate who had tripped me, I had zero desire to prove them wrong. My running was my business and no-one else’s now.

“Yeah, she was perfect, no trouble at all, except for this one part.”

I cocked an eyebrow. Bessey was always perfect on runs. No exceptions. Not to mention she’d gone on these trails enough times with my dad and I before his death to know every inch of them.

Back when life was sublime, and I wasn’t an orphan. Okay, not quite an orphan; I still had Grandma, but I was definitely parent-less.

“It was super weird; when we got on the backside of Widow’s Peak, near Silver Lake, she started freaking out. Tried to go straight down the hill. I had to grab her collar and drag her for a good quarter mile before she calmed down.

That was strange.

“Was there a rabbit or a deer nearby?” Not that wild animals had ever caused her to act like that before, with the exception of the time she saved me from running over a rattlesnake.

“I didn’t see anything. We were running with the main pack of boys so there were a bunch of the kids around.”

“That’s never bothered her before.”

Dylan shrugged. “I don’t know what was going on. She seems fine now though.”

With that, he threw his blue hair back, belted out the first line of “Livin’ on a Prayer” by Bon Jovi and turned back to the crowd of kids returning from their runs.

I winced at the sound, as well as the familiar pain behind my left eyeball. I couldn’t count the number of times that guy had given me a headache in the three months we’d been coaching together.

“Don’t forget to stretch,” I reminded a group of freshmen girls who were giggling at his antics.

Every one of my female runners seemed to perk up anytime Dylan came near them. I didn’t get it. Sure, he was toned enough that you could grate cheese against his abs, a feature he flaunted every chance he got. Then there was his bronzed skin and smoldering blue eyes…But what about his hideous blue as a Smurf hair and repulsive personality?

Besides, barely graduated nineteen-year-olds had no business flirting with sixteen-year-old girls. He was turning this training camp, a big part of Dad’s coaching legacy, into a joke.

“Is everyone back?” I called. I was ready to pack up this distance run, pile everyone’s sweaty bodies back into the cars and drive the two miles down dusty roads to our campground—I prayed my air conditioner didn’t give out again.

Of course, Dylan and the rest of the boys were too busy dumping Gatorade over themselves to answer my question.

My sneakers crunched against the mountain gravel as I trudged over to where they stood beneath some windblown pines.

My dad used to carry me on his shoulders and bounce me beneath those very trees when I was a little girl.

Now, their branches had grown so high it would take a ladder to even graze their boughs with my fingers. They, like my childhood, and my father, were out of reach.

Splash!

Orange Gatorade smacked me in the face, then dripped down my nose, eyebrows and chin.

Forty teenagers instantly went silent. I opened my mouth and sweet liquid dribbled onto my tongue. Words, at least the appropriate ones, failed me.

Dylan had the decency to look penitent, gripping the empty bottle I knew very well had held the sports drink I blinked from my eyelashes.

I bounced on the heels of my feet and looked to the sky, holding back the flood of obscenities that threatened to pour from my mouth.

A hawk of some kind circled overhead, and I wished for wings to fly out of this place. It was bad enough to come here doing the job that should have been Dad’s. Seeing all the same trails and rivers, smelling all the same piney scents that we had shared together every year since I was born. Wondering where he was.

Or rather where his body was.

No matter what anyone said, I knew he was dead.

A soft something pressed against my fisted hand.

Standing in front of me was a chagrined Dylan. He ran his fingers through those aqua locks and brushed his rarely worn shirt against my arm.

“I’m really sorry. Here, you can use this.”

The fabric was already moist with sweat. “No thanks,” I said, nose wrinkling.

He still held the proffered item between us. “I was going to tell you Gabby and Eden still aren’t back yet. We should probably start looking for them.”

My eyes bulged. Those two were the fastest of our girls. I hadn’t even thought to check for them since they were usually one of the first people back.

Where were they?

Mind whirling, I spun. I scanned the faces of our runners and counted heads to the beat of my pounding heart.

I jogged to the trail entrance with Bessey right behind, then clutched my chest in relief. Limping and covered in scrapes, both Gabby and Eden hobbled into view.

“What happened?” I yelled, hurrying toward them.

Tear tracks were clearly visible on their dirt covered faces.

“We got lost. Gabby fell, and I hiked down to help her. We had to climb up the boulders over by Silver Lake, and while we were going, we found something.”

That was when I noticed the worn bright orange fabric clutched in Eden’s hand. Then, I fell to all fours, wheezing.

A hand rested lightly on my shoulder. “Elise, I’m so, so sorry.”

Nearby, someone sobbed.

The familiar object was laid gently beside me.

“We’re just so sorry.”

I stared through tears at the dirt encrusted fanny pack with the words “Run like you mean it” printed across it in fading letters. Dad never went running without this hideous appendage. Which meant that his body had to be somewhere nearby.

My fingernails dug into the pebbled earth just to feel something besides the numbness creeping over my body. A warm tongue licked my face. Bessey whined then gently pawed at my forearm.

Was this why she freaked out earlier? Had she caught Dad’s scent? If I took her back, could she find him? Or rather what was left of him.

He was dead. I knew it before, but I had proof now.

Bessey licked every bit of my exposed skin, then nudged the Fanny pack with her snout, whining. Someone settled onto the dirt beside me.

“That’s your dad’s, isn’t it?”

I ignored Dylan. I could not cope with his crap right now. He sat surprisingly still while I worked to calm my breathing. Eventually, I drew in a steady breath and raised my head.

“You okay?”

His sky-blue eyes were fixed on mine. He laid a hand gently on my shoulder, and instead of punching him, I just shook my head. Two sweaty arms drew around me, wrapping me in a tight embrace, and to my horror, I started crying.

My whole body shook. Tears and snot poured out of my face. Dylan didn’t shudder or recoil. In fact, he held me more firmly. Stroked my hair. Rubbed my back.

We sat like that until my knees throbbed from pressing into tiny rocks. I pulled away, careful to avoid looking at the wet ooze probably dripping off his tanned shoulder from my breakdown.

Had I really laid my head against his bare skin?

I groped for the nylon fabric of Dad’s pack. The contents shook as I lifted it. A corner had already torn open, but rather than risk ripping it further, I carefully unzipped the front. Inside were a few Band-Aids, antibiotic ointment, Dad’s driver’s license, and a few credit cards. Nothing unusual. Other than the fact that it had been gone for a year and was not attached to his missing body.

More whining and pawing from Bessey. Dylan helped me to my feet. We walked toward our group. I was moving, arms swinging, feet tromping. Yet I felt nothing.

Everyone was nearly silent when we reached them. Only whispers and sniffles. They knew. Gabby and Eden must have told them. This hideous fanny pack had made it to every practice and race we’d run over the last few years. It was unmistakable, and there was no question who it belonged to.

I opened my car door, and for the first time possibly ever, Bessey refused to get in. She shook from head to tail repeatedly, something she often did when trying to calm herself.

Dylan shouted some kind of orders to the kids, and they all dispersed. Instead of going to his car, my blue-haired assistant headed in my direction, along with the three kids I’d driven here.

“How about I ride with you?”

I stared, not comprehending. As softly as if it were made of tissue paper, I fingered the worn fabric of Dad’s pack.

“Look, three of us can sit in back,” Dylan continued, “and Bessey can sit on top of us while the other one sits up front.”

I blinked. That’s right; there wouldn’t be enough room for everyone if Dylan came, unless Bessey sat on someone.

“Why are you coming with me; you have your own car?”

Dylan rubbed the back of his neck. Thankfully, he was wearing his shirt now. “Listen, we’re going to need to report this.” He gestured to the fanny pack in my hands. “We can drive these kids back to camp, make sure everyone is taken care of and the Hamblin’s have lunch under control, and then we can drive to where we have cell service and call the police.”

Get the kids taken care of. Check with the Hamblin’s, Gabby’s parents and our helpers for the week. Call the police. Yes, that made sense.

With a nod, I opened the back door of my car. Hesitantly, the three kids climbed in. I had to pick up Bessey and lay her across them. There was no other way to get her into the car. Dylan climbed into the passenger seat,1 and I moved to get in as well. But what about Dad’s pack? I stared at the weather-worn fabric. A prickling of tears stung my eyes.

“Want me to hold it?” Dylan asked.

This pack belonged safely in my possession. Nowhere else. But I couldn’t navigate these rough dirt roads without the use of both hands. What if it slipped onto the floor and I accidentally stepped on it?

“Fine.” I carefully handed the pack to Dylan. “But no Gatorade on it, understood?”

“Don’t worry; I’m all out of ammo.”

“Don’t sweat on it either,” I added.

“I’ll think cool thoughts.”

I eyed him with obvious suspicion. “Please take good care of it.”

“I promise.” His perfectly bronzed hand squeezed my arm.

I whooshed out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “Let’s get these kids back to camp and go call the police.”