Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Guitar strumming drifted through the Adventure Center when I arrived the next morning. It came to a sudden halt at the sound of a brass bell on the front doors. Noah appeared from one of the back rooms moments later.
I couldn’t help but notice there wasn’t a tray of freshly baked muffins in his hands.
“No muffins today?” I peered around Noah’s workbench, dramatically sniffing the air like a bloodhound.
“We’re climbing today,” said Noah. “Not having a tea party.” Without even saying good morning, he grabbed a climbing harness from the wall, the worn leather creaking in his hands.
“Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” I noted.
Jenn emerged from the back as well, pouring herself a fresh cup of stale coffee from the stained carafe. “Noah’s bed only has wrong sides.”
“Come here.” Noah waved me over.
“I heard music when I came in. You a guitar player?” I asked Noah, eyeing the intimidating rock wall that stretched up to the barn’s rafters. It was peppered with multicolored plastic holds, little nubs, and protrusions that looked about as supportive as a Facebook comment section.
“No.” His tone made it clear that was the end of that topic. I caught a glimpse of Jenn and Diego exchanging another one of their looks. “We’re climbing Devil’s Ridge today,” Noah said, completely dismissing my guitar question.
“Devil’s Ridge? That sounds … horrible.”
“It’s a Class 5 formation that tops out at about ten thousand feet.” Noah patted the barn wall like it was his wolf-dog rather than an instrument of torture. “But before that, we’ll get you on the practice wall until you’re comfortable with the basics.”
“Define comfortable.”
Noah stepped in close, wrapping the harness around my waist. “It’s a beginner route,” he explained, fingers working the straps with practiced efficiency.
“Define beginner.”
“Perfect friction, solid holds, and a nice gentle angle.”
“Gentle like a baby tiger is gentle,” Diego chimed in, spinning a carabiner around his finger. “Still has teeth.”
“Stop scaring her,” Jenn scolded.
“Didn’t you fall the first time you tried that route?” asked Diego
“I caught her, didn’t I?” said Noah.
“Yeah, after a thirty-foot free fall, before the line caught.” Jenn rubbed the back of her neck as if remembering the whiplash.
“Not helping,” I told the room, wondering if it was too late to fake a sudden case of altitude sickness. Or amnesia. Or a Bigfoot kidnapping.
“The route we’re taking follows a classic granite face.” Noah’s fingers brushed my waist as he tightened a strap, sending a paralyzing shiver up my spine. “There’s a nasty crack system about halfway up.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
He tugged another strap, pulling me slightly off balance. “The exposure gets intense after the first pitch.”
I had to steady myself against his chest. “We can forget about the whole climbing thing and go back to the resort. They have muffins there. And mimosas.”
Noah’s hands stilled on my thigh straps, looking up. “Are you even listening? This is serious.”
“I’d listen better with muffins.” I tugged at the straps over my shoulders, which were definitely tighter than they needed to be. “Just saying.”
When he straightened, his face was inches from mine, close enough that I could see the flecks of darker blue in his irises. The tiny scar above his left eyebrow. The way his breathing slowed.
“One wrong move up there ...”
“Could kill me. Got it.” I met his gaze directly, not wilting under the intensity of his attention. “But here’s the thing, Noah. My parents didn’t raise their daughter to back down from a challenge. So let’s stop talking and do this.”
“Okay then.” The transformation in Noah’s expression was like watching a wall crack. He didn’t smile exactly, but there was a flicker in his eyes. Noah strapped himself into his own harness, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he adjusted the buckles. His worn jeans hugged his thighs.
“We’re not leaving this practice wall until you get to the top.” Noah handed me the rope he was threading through my belay loop.
“Consider it done.”
Another crack formed in Noah’s wall as I stared up at the physical one in front of me. The chalk marks left by previous climbers traced ghostly paths upward.
“First rule of climbing, maintain three points of contact with the wall at all times,” he instructed, clipping a carabiner to his belt with the confidence of a man who actually knew how to both spell and pronounce car-a-bin-er.
“Like Spiderman?”
Noah frowned. “More like …” He splayed himself against the wall.
“So, like Spiderman.”
His frown deepened. “Just watch.”
Noah positioned himself on the climbing wall, one hand on a yellow plastic hold, his other on a blue one. He propped his foot on a red nub barely big enough to balance his little toe. “Once you have your three contact points, you just propel forward, letting your momentum carry you upward.”
“Propel. Momentum. Upward.” I gave him a thumbs-up. “You know, if you’d just embrace the Spiderman thing, I bet I could get you even more TikTok followers than Kevin.”
Ignoring me, Noah took his position. With fluid grace that made it look ridiculously easy, he scaled the entire wall as if gravity were merely a suggestion. His movements were both economical and precise, each reach and step calculated for maximum efficiency.
Once at the top, he pushed off with both legs and let the cable attached to his waist slowly lower him back down to the floor. He landed with barely a sound. “See?”
“So exactly like Spiderman. How’d you learn to climb like that?”
“Practice.” Noah unhooked himself from the safety line.
“He’s just being modest,” said Diego.
“Noah started climbing when he was six,” added Jenn. “Ever since his parents built this place from scratch.”
At the mention of his parents, Noah’s hands went still. For a split second, his carefully maintained mask slipped, and I saw something raw flicker across his face.
“So, this is your parents’ place?”
Noah didn’t look up, his undivided attention on the rope. “Was.” Apparently, the circumference of his rope coil wasn’t quite precise enough because he let it fall loose and started coiling all over again.
“They started with just a couple of wooden kayaks and some climbing gear,” said Jenn. “So it’s kinda in his blood.”
My stomach twisted as the pieces clicked into place. I glanced at Noah, who was still very focused on coiling that rope, his shoulders tense.
“So, your parents ...”
“Not here anymore.” The words fell like boulders from a cliff.
“Which means this place is all his now,” said Jenn, walking over to join us. “All the dreams, all the responsibility.”
“All the corporate vultures circling overhead,” added Noah, looking directly at me.
That’s when it clicked. This wasn’t just some fancy resort amenities package; this was Noah’s entire world. His entire life. Built by hand. Maintained by love. And now threatened by exactly the kind of luxury development I’d been hired to promote. Threatened by LuxeLife. Threatened by me.
“Surely there’s something you can do?”
“The problem is Noah owns the business, but LuxeLife owns the land,” said Diego.
“So once the lease expires …”
“Corporate revitalization,” said Jenn.
“Market rate improvements,” said Diego. “I’m guessing oxygen bars and salt caves have better profit margins than a climbing wall.”
The faded pictures on the walls told stories I hadn’t bothered to read. Decades of guided climbs, of teaching nervous beginners to trust their own strength, of sharing wilderness magic with city folks and helping families make memories together.
No wonder Noah and I got off on the wrong foot. My job, literally, was to help make his job go away. But not just his job. His family’s legacy. His childhood. Noah’s entire life purpose. Built from wooden kayaks and determination. And there I was, the face of everything threatening to destroy it.
“Turns out I’m a better climber than businessman.” Noah’s hands finally stilled on the rope.
I thought about my own family’s story. The year of the pandemic.
Customers stopped eating out. Tourists stayed in their homes.
Supply shortages. Workers getting sick. A family business that took generations to build almost fell apart in an instant.
If it hadn’t been for the support of the community and the kindness of strangers …
“No,” I said.
“No?” Jenn frowned.
“This isn’t happening. Not on my watch.”
“What are you talking about, Sam?” Diego looked as confused as Jenn did.
“Maya gave us a lifeline. And I, for one, am not going to let it go. We can fix this. We can turn this thing around. Victoria’s not some monster trying to destroy this place just for fun.
She’s a businesswoman. A smart one. A successful one.
If we can prove authentic Colorado is what people really want …
more importantly, what people will pay for, she won’t turn her back on a good thing. ”
“Speaking of lifelines.” Noah handed me the climbing rope. “Before we show people more authentic Colorado, you need to show me I won’t have to rappel down a mountain and haul your carcass out of a ravine.”
“Wow, that’s very specific.”
“Stick ‘em in.” Noah opened the bag of chalk and motioned for me to stick my hands inside.
“This isn’t going to mess up my manicure, is it?” I stuck my hands in the bag.
“It’s definitely going to mess up your manicure.”
When I pulled my hands out of the sack, they were covered in chalk, the fine powder coating my fingers like ghostly gloves. “Good. That gives me an excuse to get another one at the spa later. What about you, Jenn, care to join me?”
“Is LuxeLife paying?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then count me in.”
Diego dropped the life vest he was patching and came over to join us. “You know, I’ve had a lot of tension in my shoulders lately.” He winced as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I could really use a massage.”
“You’re invited too, Diego.” He gave me a grin.
“Probably all the stress of working with Noah,” noted Jenn.
“Wait a second. I thought she was the bad guy? When did I become the bad guy?”
“When she bribed us with spa services,” Diego explained.
Noah shook his head. “Well, the three of you will have to finish planning your little spa date later, cause right now it’s time to stop fucking around and get back to work.”
“See what I mean?” Jenn returned to her paperwork. Diego went back to the life vests.
Which left me alone again with Noah.
He pointed at the wall. “Let’s go, Miss Li.
Up and at ‘em.” He put firm hands on my shoulders and spun me back around.
His hands moved over my harness again, testing each connection point, yanking straps and slapping buckles for what felt like the hundredth time.
His chest pressed against my back. His breath felt warm on my neck.
Standing there with his hands all over me, I realized I was basically at his mercy. Beholden to his every whim. For some demented reason, that book about the billionaire with all the sex fetish stuff popped into my head.
“You’re not secretly a billionaire, are you?” I asked before I could stop myself.
“Huh?” Noah paused, his hands on my waist.
“Never mind,” I muttered, heat creeping up my neck.
It seemed Noah’s only whim was to make me climb up tiny plastic rocks. He guided my hands to the right spots, the chalk on his fingers leaving dusty prints on my arms like evidence at a crime scene.
“Left foot there,” he said, tapping my ankle with his boot. “Now, reach up with your right hand.”
I stretched toward the hold he’d indicated, but my arms felt like overcooked noodles after yesterday’s paddling. “I can’t ...”
“Yes, you can.” His hand settled on my hip, steadying me. “Push with your legs, not your arms. Climbing is all in the lower body.”
From across the room, I caught Diego elbowing Jenn, both of them wearing knowing smirks. Jenn whispered something that made Diego snort-laugh.
“Focus,” Noah said, still way too close. “Keep your hips close to the wall.”
“That’s what she said,” Diego muttered, earning a smack from Jenn.
I tried to concentrate on the holds in front of me, but Noah’s proximity was scrambling my brain cells faster than a high-speed blender. His breath tickled my neck as he adjusted my grip on a particularly sketchy hold.
“Better,” he said. “Now shift your weight to the left.”
I followed his instructions, hyperaware of his hand still resting on my hip. When I glanced over, Diego was making exaggerated kissing faces at Jenn.
“Eyes on the wall,” Noah commanded, completely oblivious to our audience’s silent comedy show. “Trust your feet.”
I shifted my weight, finding my balance without Noah’s support. My fingers curled around the next hold, legs pushing just like he’d shown me. One move at a time, I climbed a few feet up the wall.
“Look at that, you’re a natural,” Noah said, his voice carrying a note of surprise. He stepped back, letting out the rope. “Time to fly solo. Show us what you’ve got.”
My stomach clenched as I looked up at the ceiling. The wall stretched above me like a skyscraper. I reached for the next hold, found my footing, and pulled myself higher.
Halfway up, my arms started shaking. Sweat trickled down my back, making my shirt cling like flypaper. The holds seemed to shrink with each movement. My fingers ached from gripping the tiny edges.
“I don’t know.” My voice cracked.
“You’re doing great,” Noah called up. “If you make it to the top, maybe I’ll bake you another batch of muffins.”
I groaned. “They were good, but not that good.” But even as I complained, my arms kept moving, finding the next hold. This wasn’t about muffins or proving Noah wrong. I was determined to help them.
My muscles burned with each move. The top anchor seemed impossibly far away, but I continued making progress. Slow. Steady. But I was doing it. I was actually doing it.
“Come on, Sam!” Diego shouted. “Show that wall who’s boss!”
Just when I started to believe that I could actually make it, the taste of muffin already forming on my tongue, my foot slipped on a hold slick with chalk and sweat.
Next thing I knew, I was falling.
The wall rushed past as I plummeted, the rope jerking tight around my waist. A scream tore from my throat as I twisted in the harness, my shoulder slamming against the wall with a thud that pulsed through my entire body.
“Sam!” Noah’s voice cut through the darkness as everything started spinning.