Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
We rode into view of the Adventure Center after what felt like a lifetime of crotch torture via horse’s saddle.
My thighs had declared open rebellion, my spine had filed for divorce from the rest of my body, and parts of me that shall remain nameless were sending distress signals.
Biscuit, clearly as eager to end our journey as I was, picked up speed as we approached the stables.
For almost the entire journey, Noah and I had maintained enough silence to get nominated for some sort of librarian’s best behavior award.
The one time I’d gathered the courage to reference what had happened between us, you know, the whole mind-blowing, universe-altering kiss situation, Noah had suddenly remembered an urgent need to “check the trail for storm damage” and trotted ahead, leaving me and my emotional vulnerability eating his dust.
“The thing about last night ...” I’d started.
“Hmm, better check that washout ahead,” he’d muttered, spurring Duke forward like I’d announced the trail behind us was on fire.
Subtle, Barrett. Real subtle.
I gripped Biscuit’s reins with white knuckles as we approached the paddock. After surviving rapids, lightning storms, and the emotional whiplash of Noah’s hot-and-cold routine, it would be tragically on-brand for me to face-plant in the mud five feet from safety.
Jenn stood at the gate, her eyes widening as she took in our disheveled state. My hair resembled a bird’s nest built by a bird with no design training and poor eyesight. My clothes looked like I’d participated in a spring break mud-wrestling competition, and lost badly.
Noah, infuriatingly, looked like he’d just stepped off the set of a rugged outdoor clothing commercial. Even his dirt smudges appeared artfully placed.
“Well, well, well.” Jenn’s lips curved into a smile full of unspoken observations. “You two look like you’ve had quite the adventure.”
“Got caught in the storm,” Noah grunted. “Had to wait it out in one of the old fishing cabins.”
“Did you now?” Jenn’s eyebrows waggled as she took Biscuit’s reins and helped steady me for dismount. “Must have been cozy.”
“Cozy isn’t the first word that comes to mind,” I said, legs turning to huckleberry jelly the moment they touched solid ground.
Noah dismounted with effortless grace, but everything changed when his boots hit the ground. His face contorted into a grimace that suggested someone had just stabbed him in the lower back with a sharp branch.
“You okay there, mountain man?” Jenn asked, leading Biscuit toward the stable with one hand while keeping me from collapsing with the other.
“Back seized up,” Noah muttered through clenched teeth, stretching with another wince. “Slept on a cabin floor last night.”
I watched him attempt to straighten, each tiny movement clearly sending spasms of pain through his body.
The memory of him curled on those rough wooden planks all night, refusing to share the mattress because of one little kiss (okay, one earth-shattering, toe-curling kiss), made something twist in my chest.
“The resort has a full spa,” I said, a lightbulb of inspiration flickering on in my exhausted brain. “I could ask Maya to set up a couple of massage appointments.”
Noah’s head whipped up so fast he probably gave himself whiplash on top of his back spasms. “Hard pass.”
“I bet they have amazing massage therapists.” I pictured hands working on Noah’s knotted muscles, my hands, preferably, and felt a flush creeping up my neck. “Then after the massage, we could get a pedicure.” I pressed, unable to resist poking the bear. “And then a facial.”
“I don’t do spas.” He practically spat the last word.
“But you’ll let your back get so knotted you can barely stand upright?” asked Jenn, giving me a wink.
“Have you ever had a professional massage?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“I’m not letting strangers touch my feet and put goop on my face,” Noah declared with the stubborn determination of someone who would rather chew glass than admit weakness. “I’ll work it out.”
“Come on, tough guy. I did all your things.”
“My things?”
“Hiking. Rafting. Climbing … horse trying-to-buck-me-offing.” The word riding didn’t really seem to cover it. “Now you have to try one of mine.”
Noah tried to ignore me by escaping toward the stable, but his back seized again, and he doubled over in pain. “Goddamn it.”
“One massage,” I pressed. “If you hate it, you can go back to your all-natural regimen of suffering silently while your spine takes on the shape of a fishing hook.”
“She’s got a point,” said Jenn. “If Sam here was brave enough to let you drag her up mountains and into the wilderness during a biblical-level storm, seems only fair you try something from her world.”
I shot Jenn a grateful look. “Exactly. And unlike your activities, I can guarantee no risk of broken bones, drowning, or death by a wildlife encounter. The worst thing that happens at the spa is occasionally they run out of cucumber water. Or cucumber facial cream. Or cucumber sandwiches.”
Noah rubbed his neck, another wince flickering across his face. “I have to tend to the horses.”
“I’ll take care of the horses,” Jenn cut him off. “The resort shuttle will be here any minute with a fresh batch of rafters for Diego’s morning run. Sam can catch a ride back with them while you go clean yourself up. You smell like wet dog and cabin mold.”
We both fixed him with identical stern looks.
Noah’s eyes darted between us with the panicked expression of a trapped animal calculating escape routes and finding none.
For a moment, it appeared as if he was about to turn and run, but then another wave of pain must have hit him because his face twisted up like a climbing knot.
It looked like it took every ounce of will just to stay upright.
“Fine,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “One massage. That’s it.”
“And lunch,” I added, seizing the advantage while he was still vulnerable. “The spa menu mentioned something about a rub-and-grub package with fancy little pimento cheese sandwiches and a pasta salad made with couscous and chickpeas.”
The mention of chickpeas appeared to be the final straw. Noah’s eyes rolled so hard I worried they might pop out of his head. “I should have abandoned you in the wilderness,” he grumbled.
“After you get cleaned up, come find me at the resort.” I gave him a critical once-over. “And wear something nice.”
“Define nice.”
“No hiking boots,” Jenn and I said in perfect unison, then exchanged a high-five.
Noah muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a promise to feed us both to bears at his earliest opportunity.
Every one of my leg muscles protested as I staggered out of the resort shuttle, attempting to remember how walking worked. It seemed after two days on horseback, my body had forgotten it was designed for bipedal movement.
The gleaming glass doors of the grand entrance reflected my apocalyptic appearance in high definition. “Good Lord,” I gasped. I looked like I’d been dragged backward through a briar patch infested with wolverines, then thrown into a tornado.
The same fresh-faced bellhop who’d greeted me on my first day stood at attention by the entrance, his uniform so crisp and pristine it triggered a primal urge to run over and rub my forest-marinated body all over him just to mitigate the contrast.
His eyes widened as I approached, taking in my mud-splattered clothes and wild hair. “Miss Li? Are you okay?”
“Just peachy,” I croaked, attempting to smooth down what felt like a family of squirrels nesting in my hair. “That’s why they call it the great outdoors. Nothing says authentic Colorado like returning with half the forest lodged in your underwear, right?”
“Um …” He held the door open as wide as possible, as though worried whatever I had might be contagious.
The resort lobby hit me with a wave of civilization so intense it was like landing on an alien planet.
The marble floor gleamed. The massive stone fireplace radiated toasty warmth.
The signature scent of sage and lavender wafted through the air conditioning, nearly masking the musky cabin stench that I was afraid had stuck to me permanently.
“Back to civilization,” I sighed. “Where I belong.”
My stomach growled when I caught a whiff of something sizzling from one of the resort’s restaurants, reminding me that chocolate truffles and charcuterie board fare weren’t sufficient sustenance after a Dante’s Inferno-esque trek through the wilderness.
Images of the restaurant’s lunch menu flashed through my mind like a slideshow of culinary pornography.
Truffle fries. Seven-bean Colorado chili with extra cheese and sour cream.
A big plate of loaded Mountain nachos. All of it washed down with a pitcher of huckleberry jalapeno margaritas the size of a small mountain lake.
“First order of business, a rent payment worth of room service,” I said to myself. But then I remembered … I couldn’t ruin my appetite for my spa date with Noah.
Date?
Is that what it was going to be? A date? An actual date? Or did Noah only agree to meet me because his back was in horrible pain?
I shuffled toward the elevator, leaving a trail of forest debris in my wake.
Date or not, I at least had to be presentable if I was going to be near another human being.
Plus, I needed to call down to the front desk to see if they could send up a priest to perform an exorcism to remove whatever had taken up residence in my hair.
“Sam?” I froze mid-step, then turned to find Maya power-walking across the lobby. She waved frantically, heels clicking against the marble at a pace just shy of “jog.” A warning bell sounded in my mind, but I was too exhausted and my legs were too traumatized to run.
“Sam! Thank goodness I found you,” Maya said, out of breath as she reached me. “I’ve been trying to call since yesterday.”
I held up my phone, black-screened, cracked, and lifeless. “Dead battery.”
Maya’s mouth dropped open, apparently really looking at me for the first time. “What happened to you?”
“Long story involving rain, horses, lightning, and a cabin in the middle of a time warp.”
Maya’s eyes performed a comprehensive scan of my disheveled appearance. “And why do you smell like wet wool and ...” She leaned in and took a delicate sniff, then recoiled. “... feral buffalo?”
“That would be Yeti, I’m guessing. She used my face as a pillow.
” I attempted to finger-comb my hair, dislodging what appeared to be part of a sap-covered pine cone.
“I promise I’ll tell you the whole epic tale later, but right now?
” I gestured at my general state of disarray.
“I need the world’s hottest shower, clean clothes, and enough perfume to fill the Colorado River. ”
Maya opened her mouth to protest, but I held up a mud-caked hand. “After that, Noah and I plan to try every single treatment on your spa menu.”
Her mouth dropped even further. “Noah agreed to everything on the spa menu?”
“Basically. Sort of.”
“Even the Alpine wax?” Maya’s eyes were a lot bigger than normal.
“Okay, maybe not that one. But once he realizes how much better his back feels after a nice massage, I’m hopeful his mood will be supple enough to at least try a manicure. And then after a few mimosas, we’ll see where we can go from there.”
“But Sam.” Maya gently took my hand. “You don’t have time …”
I held up my mud-caked hand again, then grimaced as a clump of something brown and sticky detached from my sleeve and hit the pristine floor with a thunk.
“The only thing I can’t do is be around other humans.
I have pine needles in places pine needles should never be.
Give me an hour and unlimited hot water, and I’ll be somewhat presentable again.
Maybe even capable of complete sentences. ”
“You don’t have an hour,” Maya said, glancing at her watch. “You have about four minutes.”
“Four minutes for what?”
“Victoria. She scheduled a meeting.”
“In four minutes?”
Maya checked her watch again. “Now it’s three minutes and twenty-eight seconds.”
The room began to spin, forcing me to grab the nearest decorative bear statue for support. I gestured at my disaster of a body. “I can’t do a Zoom call like this.”
“It’s ah … not a Zoom call. It’s in person. Victoria flew in this morning.”
“No. No no no. I can’t meet Victoria looking like this.” I caught another whiff of wet dog mixed with what I could only describe as ‘eau de flatulent horse.’ “Or smelling like this.”
“Sam …”
“I have leaves in my hair, Maya. Actual leaves.”
“Sam ...”
“Possibly small insects building a tiny civilization.” I pressed my palms against my temples, trying to contain the panic. “Tell her I’m sick. Tell her I’m missing in the forest. Tell her I got kidnapped by Bigfoot.”
“Sam,” repeated Maya, her tone sharpening with urgency.
“Please, Maya, I can’t do this right now. Just tell Victoria ...”
“Tell me what, Samantha?”
Slowly, I turned. Victoria stood right behind me. Marcus was on one side of her. Parker on the other.
As Parker and I locked eyes, I wasn’t sure which of us was more shellshocked — me at seeing him here, or him at witnessing what a few days in authentic Colorado had done to his previously polished mentor. “Sam? Are you okay?”
“I’ve been better,” I admitted, fighting the urge to dive behind the bear statue and hide. “What are you doing here?” From the deer-in-the-headlights expression on Parker’s face, I got the distinct impression he didn’t quite know why he was there either.
“I asked him to come,” said Marcus, his voice as cold as an abandoned cabin in the wilderness.
“We figured you were going to need the help,” Victoria added, her eyes performing a comprehensive inventory of my wilderness-ravaged appearance.
“Help with what?” I asked.
Marcus smiled his shark smile. “Fixing everything you broke.”