Chapter 15
It’s an amazing night, the best I’ve had in ages.
The food is incredible, and the company is a hundred times better.
We finish our meal and head outside, to a sky dark and full of what feels like a million stars.
I stop beside the camper, tilting my head back. Beside me, Tessa does the same, sucking in a breath. “Wow,” she whispers. “It’s been way too long since I slowed down and looked up.”
I hum in agreement. “Makes me feel small. In a good way.”
She shifts to study my profile. “I say that all the time. About being outside. When I’m on a trail, I feel small in the best way. It’s like suddenly I realize that all the things I’ve been worried about aren’t such a big deal, after all.”
I glance down at her, admiring the flush in her cheeks from the wine. She’s even more beautiful like this, relaxed and well-fed and not worried about holding me at a distance. Reminding myself the only way to keep her that way is to keep this role-paying platonic—at least for now—I refrain from telling her so, and simply add, “I get it. It makes me feel braver, too. When I think about how that tree in front of me is probably two hundred years old, and I only have half that time on earth, if I’m lucky… Makes you realize there’s no time to waste playing it safe or holding back.”
She smiles and leans in, nudging my arm with her shoulder. “I’d say you’re doing a great job of being brave. Especially tonight. You walked out of there like you didn’t have a clown care in the world. I was proud of you, Preston.”
Grinning at my new name—I’ve always thought my middle name sounded more exciting than my given one—I tip my head in acknowledgement of the compliment. “Thank you, Lady Gray.”
She giggles in response. “Is it wrong that I love our code names so much? They make me a little giddy.” She bites her lip and rolls her eyes back toward the stars. “Either that or the wine.” She sighs. “Should we take a walk around the park across the street before we head to the campsite? Or are you okay to drive?”
“I’m fine to drive,” I say, reaching for the keys. “I’m bigger than you are. And I ate a lot more food. Besides, we need to get set up so we can start researching our treasure hunt. I don’t want to leave Utah empty-handed.”
She claps her hands. “Me, either. This is so exciting! Even better than a scavenger hunt. I loved those when I was a kid.”
“Me, too,” I say, never happier to be a nerd who follows treasure-hunting blogs. Like Tessa, I loved scavenger hunts as a kid and the idea that somewhere out there, mysterious treasures are waiting to be found. It isn’t about the money for me, it’s about the adventure.
“So, you really think we’ll have several hunts to choose from?” she asks as I open the passenger door for her. We’ve decided to leave Freya in her crate until we’re set up at the campsite, reducing the chances that she’ll run off while we’re hooking up water and electric and fetching wood for a campfire.
“Yeah, I think so. If we don’t mind driving a little.” Once I’m buckled in, I set off down the narrow road leading to the campsite, regaling her with tales of Montezuma’s cursed treasure, an evil Spanish priest’s ill-gotten gold, and Butch Cassidy’s outlaw stash.
“Wow.” She cracks the window, inhaling the sweet, grass-scented air. This area will be bone dry in a couple months, but for now, the grasslands are alive with smells and the sounds of insects humming in the cool night. “I think we’re going to need a wardrobe adjustment.”
I grin and tease, “Indiana Jones hat?”
She laughs. “I mean, yeah. Why not? I’d also enjoy a white linen shirt and some vintage khakis, but I can make do with my Gore-Tex hiking apparel, if needed. But the hat is non-negotiable. After we research treasure-hunting locations, I’ll do some research on where to buy matching hats.” She reaches out, her fingers lingering on my arm for a beat, even that brief contact making my blood pump faster. “You don’t mind matching, do you?”
“Mind?” I scoff. “I insist on it. Every good team needs a uniform.”
“We should get something for Freya, too. A brow ribbon or something. I doubt she’ll tolerate a hat, even if we could find one small enough. She has very little patience for dressing up aside from ribbons and the occasional stretchy vest. The one time I put her in a dress, I thought she was going to have an aneurysm. She threw herself on the ground and thrashed until she was exhausted, then refused to move until I took it off.”
“I think Christian did the same thing when our cousins dressed him up in their old pageant dresses when he was little,” I say, shrugging as I add, “I didn’t mind it, myself. Dresses are comfortable and good for airflow.”
She giggles. “Tell me someone took pictures.”
“For sure. Mom still has them in a family album somewhere. Me, Christian, Matty, and Melissa all dressed up in big floofy gowns. I don’t know who was angrier, Christian or Mel. She hated girl clothes when she was a kid.”
Tessa hums low in her throat. “I’m not surprised. She doesn’t love them now. I can count the times I’ve seen her in a dress on one hand. Including last night.” She runs a hand through her hair and leans forward as we near the gates. “Oh no, it looks like the check-in kiosk is closed.”
“It’s okay. I paid for our spot online and they sent directions for check-in and check-out. And there’s a caretaker on site if we run into trouble. We’re spot sixty-nine.”
“You’re kidding,” she says with a soft snort. “Sorry. I have the sense of humor of a teenage boy sometimes.”
I grin. “No, I’m not kidding. The website said it had one of the best views of…” I trail off with a chuckle. “Well, you’ll see tomorrow morning.”
“What will I see?”
I shrug. “The view. Unless the moonlight is bright enough to see it tonight.”
She glances outside. “Maybe. It’s pretty bright, but the moon won’t be full for another four days.”
“How do you know that?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s always just been something I keep track of. I don’t like to miss a full moon if I can help it. It’s a good day for tapping into cosmic energy.” She lowers her voice before whispering, “I’m a little witchy, but in a nice way. I don’t talk about it much, though. People in Bad Dog can still be kind of old-fashioned about stuff like that.”
I slow as we near the end of a long row of mostly empty campsites. “Afraid you’ll get burned at the stake?”
She laughs. “Um, yeah? A little? But that could just be PTSD from my mom finding all my crystals and spell book when I was a teenager. She threw everything away and made me have a meeting with Pastor Bob. Come to find out later, Pastor Bob was way more dangerous than my moon power spells. He was having an affair with one of the girls I went to school with, while she was still in high school.”
“Gross,” I say, my lip curling. “What’s wrong with men like that? The thought of being involved with a girl that young literally turns my stomach.”
“Well, we all know you prefer older women,” Tessa says, making my focus jerk her way. She grins, adding, “I mean, Darcy is older than you are, right? Binx mentioned that Daria was thirty-four. Seeing as they’re twins, I’m assuming Darcy is the same age.”
“Yeah. She’s about a year and a half older than I am.” I swing into the empty spot across from ours so I can back into number sixty-nine. “But age doesn’t really matter to me. As long as the woman isn’t too much younger. I wouldn’t trust that someone too much younger than I am is ready for a serious commitment.”
“And you are?” Tessa asks as I angle the camper into our spot, stopping once the front of the vehicle is well out of the road.
I shift into park and shut off the engine before giving her my full attention. “Yeah, I am. With the right person.” I nod outside. “I think I can see the view. Want to check it out before we hook up and set Freya free?”
“Yeah,” she says, unbuckling her belt. “She’s probably asleep, anyway. If she weren’t, she’d be scratching at the door by now. She’s had a big day.”
“We all have,” I agree. “We can still have an early night if you want. Save the treasure scouting research for tomorrow.”
“Hell no,” she says, making me smile. “I’m wide awake. Could be the coffee from earlier, but I think it’s the excitement. If we find treasure, I’m using my half to buy a food truck. I used to think I wanted to open a restaurant, but a food truck is way better. Lower overhead, increased flexibility with location, and you can park it and take time off without paying rent. It’s the perfect low-stress food service option.”
“And what if we find enough to make us both billionaires?” I ask as we disembark, though I know the chances of that are slim to none. Even the largest of Utah’s lost treasures wouldn’t fetch that high a price. “Ever thought about what you’d do if you never had to work another day in your life?”
We start toward the back of the camper, side by side in the darkness, our eyes slowly adjusting to the dim light.
“I haven’t,” Tessa says. “But if I had all the money in the world, I think I’d still want to do something you know? And probably something with food. Life would be boring without a sense of purpose, and I love feeding people. It makes me feel useful, and important in a weird way. Food gives people comfort as well as fuel. I like being part of that comfort.”
“Same,” I say. “I know I do important work for my clients. I wouldn’t want to give that up entirely, but I would love more time outside. In my ideal world, I’d work November to April and hike and adventure May to October.”
“That sounds amazing,” she says, “I—” She breaks off, laughing as she comes to a stop just a few feet from the back of the camper. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“What?” I ask.
She points at the landscape ahead of us. “There. See it?”
I squint into the distance, but all I see are dark shadows on the horizon. The stars are still out, but a few clouds have rolled in, blocking the moonlight.
“Wait for it,” Tessa says, looping her arm through mine. “The moon is about to come out from behind the clouds.”
She’s right. In a few moments, the clouds float away on the breeze, and I’m treated to my first glimpse of Buffalo Dick, silhouetted against the starry sky.
Tessa snorts. “It’s a rock penis.”
“It’s Buffalo Dick,” I say, earning another snort of laughter from my equally adolescent partner in crime. “That’s what the Native Americans called it anyway. The white settlers tried to give it a more euphemistic name, but it didn’t stick.”
“White people.” Tessa clucks her tongue. “Why do we have to be so uptight?”
“Puritanical origins, I guess? And it was the 1850s.”
“Even in the 1850s, a dick by any other name is still a dick.” She grins and lifts an imaginary glass. “Here’s to you, Buffalo Dick. Long may you shadow the plains with your erect and noble bearing.”
I laugh. “We can hike up there tomorrow, if you want. There’s a trail. If you’d like a more up close and personal view of the…erection.”
She snorts again, but shakes her head. “Nah, we have treasure to hunt. We should save our hiking legs for the mission, Preston.” She glances up at me, the moonlight caressing her pale face. “Is it okay that we’re still talking about our real lives, while pretending to be treasure hunters?”
“I think anything we say is okay,” I tell her, struck all over again by how beautiful she is. With Tessa it’s more than just her objectively attractive outsides, it’s the way she’s so completely herself, with no apologies. She has nothing to hide and nothing to prove and that’s…sexy as fuck. “It’s our game, after all.”
She smiles. “It is.” She goes quiet, studying the obscene plateau for another beat before she adds in a whisper, “And you’ll really stop to buy Indiana Jones hats tomorrow? If I find a place? You aren’t going to poo poo the fun when the sun’s out and you’re sober?”
“I told you, I’m already sober. And I’m no fun poo-pooer, Lady Gray. If being a family law attorney has taught me anything, it’s that there’s plenty of suffering in the world. Policing the fun is the last thing we need.” I glance to our left, where our closest neighbors—a family of clowns, still in costume—are also out admiring the view. “Even if someone’s idea of fun is putting on creepy white makeup and bringing nightmares to life.”
Tessa chuckles as she takes my hand. “Don’t worry, Preston. I’ll protect you from clowns in the dark.”
I curl my fingers tighter around her softer, smaller ones. “How did you know they’re scarier in the dark?”
“Everything is scarier in the dark,” she says. “Well, almost everything. Come on, let’s start a fire and I’ll bring Freya outside on her leash. She said she wanted to look at the stars with you.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask as we turn back toward the camper, moving through the short grass. “She said that?”
“Well, not in so many words. But when you tackled her at the park, she didn’t bite your face off. That’s a really good sign.”
I smile. “Good. I like good signs. And my face.”
“Me, too,” she murmurs, her hand still in mine, which, for me, is the best sign of all.