Chapter 13 #2
Noah stuffed the clothes in my arms. “Anyway, this is a working gear shop, not Michigan Avenue. No fancy fitting rooms.”
“Then where exactly am I supposed to change?”
“Behind the rain jackets works for most people.” He gestured to a corner of the shop. “Unless you’d prefer to strip right here in the middle?” The teasing glint in his eye made my stomach do a little flip.
Hidden behind the rack of rain jackets, I peeled off my designer mountain leisure wear and pulled on the sturdy hiking pants Noah had picked out for me. They were surprisingly comfortable, if not exactly Instagram-worthy.
“So you went to New York as a kid?” I called out, trying to break the awkwardness of being half naked with nothing but a rack of weather wear to protect me. “What else did you do there besides shopping at Barneys?”
“Tourist stuff.”
I tugged the moisture-wicking shirt over my head. It felt soft against my skin. “Your parents sound nice. Taking you and your sister all the way to New York just to see the sights.”
“Yeah.” His voice got quiet.
“You ever go back? To New York, I mean?
“That was the first and last time I left Colorado.”
I peeked around the rack. Noah stood with his back to me, organizing gear on a shelf, never looking over his shoulder.
“Don’t you like to travel?”
“My whole life is here. Got no reason to go anywhere else.”
A picture on the wall behind me caught my eye. In it, a boy and his younger sister stood in front of a cliff face with their parents, decked out in climbing gear. The boy looked like a smaller, younger version of Noah.
I stepped out from behind the raincoats. Cleared my throat so Noah could turn around and inspect me.
He nodded at my feet. “Double knot them. Last thing we need is you tripping on the trail because you don’t know how to tie shoes properly.” And just like that, Grumpy Noah was back, his mountain man wall as high and as thick as ever.
“I know how to tie shoes, you know.”
“If you say so.”
The headlights carved through the darkness, illuminating scraggly pine trees and massive boulders.
The Jeep bounced over another rut in the dirt road; the pre-dawn darkness made every bump feel like a potential cliff edge.
I had to grab the door handle to keep from smacking my head against the roll bar.
“You could slow down a little,” I said through gritted teeth.
“This is slow.” Noah handled the steering wheel as if he were racing down the 405 during rush hour. “I would have had the LuxeLife limousine pick you up, but the trail’s only accessible by four-wheel drive.”
“Ha ha,” I said. “Smart ass,” I mumbled under my breath.
“I heard that.”
“Good.”
Yeti barked. I think she was agreeing with me.
The dirt road was like driving on the surface of Mars. The Jeep hit another bump, and the headrest nearly gave me a concussion.
“You hit that one on purpose.”
“Whoops.”
“I don’t remember reading anything about backwoods death traps in the resort brochure.”
“That’s why you should always read the fine print.”
Yeti’s head popped up between our seats, her warm breath tickling my ear. At least someone in this vehicle was friendly. And slobbery. She smeared a puddle of drool on my sleeve.
“Your breath smells like bear farts,” I said.
“Don’t listen to her, Yeti.”
“I wasn’t talking to Yeti. I was talking to you.”
We hit another bump, and I yelped, drawing another eye roll from Noah. “Relax. I’ve driven this road hundreds of times.”
“In the dark?”
“Best time to do it. That way you can’t see how far down it is to the bottom.” He downshifted, the engine growling as we climbed higher. “Plus, Dawn Patrol means getting there before dawn. Hence the name.”
I wanted to snap back with something witty, but my stomach lurched as we rounded another hairpin turn. The headlights briefly swept across empty space before finding the road again.
“How much further?” I asked, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. And last night’s cookies from climbing back up my throat.
“Ten minutes to the trailhead.” Noah glanced over. “You’re not going to throw up, are you? Because if you are, let me know now so I can slow down and push you out.”
“I’m fine.” I wasn’t fine. But I’d rather have died than admit weakness.
The Jeep continued crawling upward, suspension creaking. Through the windshield, I caught glimpses of stars scattered across the sky. No light pollution out here to dim their brilliance. Despite my churning stomach, I had to admit it was beautiful.
“Seriously though, I can stop if you want me to. I got some water in the back.”
When I looked over, the look of actual concern on his face surprised me. “I’ll be fine. We have to get there before dawn, right?”
Noah put his foot back down on the accelerator, and we continued on our way. A few minutes later, the Jeep lurched to a stop in a small clearing. My phone’s clock read 5:15AM. It was still pitch black.
Noah hopped out and opened the back, pulling out two backpacks and what looked like ski poles. “Here.”
I staggered under the weight of the backpack. “What’s in here, bowling balls?”
“First aid kit, emergency blanket, satellite phone, flares.”
“Flares? Are you expecting we’ll need a rescue?”
He adjusted the straps on my pack. “Had a guest break her ankle last month. Two miles from the nearest access point.”
“That’s not reassuring.” Noah tightened another strap, squeezing most of the air out of my lungs. “Did you carry her?”
Noah shrugged. “Her? Yes. But she was really a size six.”
“Very funny.”
Yeti barked.
“She thought so.” Noah patted his wolf-dog on the head.
I shifted the weight on my back, trying to find a position that didn’t make it feel like my spine was warping. “Is it really worth this kind of joint trauma?”
“Better safe than sorry. You never know when somebody’s gonna come down with altitude sickness, dehydration, hypothermia, a broken bone, animal encounters that go sideways … severe inner thigh chafing …”
“Okay, all dangers noted. You can stop now.”
“Lightning strikes, rockslides, mudslides, poison oak, poison ivy …”
I held up my hand. “Seriously. I get it.”
“Bee stings. Hornet stings. Fire ant bites. Surprise skunk spraying.”
“A fist to the face from a malcontent hiking companion,” I added.
“Cute.”
Yeti barked.
“She thought so.” I patted Yeti on the head.
Noah grinned as he handed me one of the ski poles. Which made little sense since it wasn’t snowing. Unless, of course it was a surprise he was saving for later.
“These are trekking poles.”
“Are those anything like Star Trek fans from Poland?”
Not even Yeti barked at that one.
“My dad took me to a Star Trek convention in San Diego once. Bought me Spock ears and everything.” I made the split-finger Spock hand thing. “Live long and prosper.”
Noah looked at me like I was the dumbest person on Earth, then handed me a set of poles.
“You hold it here, and plant it into the ground like this.” Noah demonstrated proper pole placement and adjusted my set to fit me. “They’ll help with balance and take pressure off your knees. You’ll thank me later.”
“If I survive that long.” I fumbled with the poles, feeling like a baby giraffe on a deep-sea crabbing boat in the middle of a tsunami.
“The pack also has bear spray. That’s essential out here. The other day, Jenn saw a mother black bear and three cubs. Last thing you ever want to do is get between a momma and her baby.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”