Chapter 6
Chapter Six
SOFIE
I’m lost in thought riding the employee bus to Finn River’s main lodge when Ava nudges me, then nods at a guy sitting in one of the front rows. He’s facing forward, looking down, like he’s focused on something in his lap.
Zach? Ava mouths as the recognition clicks.
Gabe’s comment floats through my mind. I stuff it back, but it seems to make my stomach flutter even harder.
Why didn’t I see Zach get on the bus? Maybe he was already on it and I didn’t think to look this time. If he rides the bus, wouldn’t I have noticed him before?
My curiosity is like an itch I am desperate to scratch, amplifying my frustration. He barely acknowledges me. And what’s the deal with the fences? Finn River Ranch and The Winter Range Project are supposed to be working together.
Maybe I won’t have to drive out to the horse place later after all.
The bus swings around the final curve, jostling me against Ava.
“Want me to help you corner him?” she whispers in my ear, then covers her giggle. I give her a look. I don’t want to corner him.
His sharp words replay in my mind . Quit it, or you’ll drown us both.
Okay, maybe a part of me does want to corner him. But I’m not admitting that to anyone, not even Ava. I don’t even know who Zach is. Or why he’s being so damn secretive.
Or why I can’t seem to forget him.
He’s wearing a ball cap, and his dark hair looks damp, as if he showered moments before getting on the bus. His muscular shoulders stretch the fabric of his work shirt, confirming the strength I remember when he carried me to safety—all while I struggled to go back for Jesse.
My stomach feels rubbery, like I’m nervous. It’s annoying. I don’t get nervous.
He makes short, sweeping motions with his arm, but because of the seat, I can’t see what he’s doing. Reading? Or drawing like when I noticed him in the diner?
At the crest of the hill, the lodge and the destination village buildings rise into view, nestled at the base of the impressive mountain amphitheater. Two ski lifts branch from the base area. One is a gondola heading to the top of Saddle Mountain, and the other is a quad that cuts through thick forest to Glory Basin. The quad is running, with a handful of mountain bikers catching a lift, their shiny bikes dangling off the chair by special hooks.
The bus stops in the loop adjacent to Bear Lodge, well out of sight from the guests who enter from a separate road. I keep Zach in my sights so I don’t lose him in the shuffle. He’s one of the first off the bus, forcing me to squeeze past several groups in order to keep up. But he turns from the path, heading across the meadow toward the ski lift.
“Hey,” I call out, breaking from the others filing into the lodge at the side entrance.
But it’s like he can’t hear me over the steady hum of the ski lift and the rock music blasting from the lift shack.
“Hey!” I say, louder this time. I’m almost to him when he glances over his shoulder. Though his face is shaded, the angle of the sun catches his eyes—lighting up that intense slate-blue framed by dark lashes.
“What’s up?” His tense tone snaps me back to the meadow.
Shit, was I staring?
“Where are you going?” I ask.
Behind him, two mountain bikers cruise to a stop at the ski lift, chattering loudly with the lift attendant .
To my frustration, Zach turns away, taking long strides toward the lift.
With a glance back at the lodge, I hurry to catch up. If I’m late, Ava can cover for me.
“How did you end up here?” I ask him.
He sends me a sharp look but doesn’t break his stride or answer me.
The two mountain bikers load and are whisked off. To my surprise, Zach enters the loading queue and slips off his backpack, like he’s going up.
Nolan, the liftie, gives Zach a nod.
As the chair swings around the back of the lift, I hurry over and join Zach just as Nolan guides the chair to the loading spot. Then, the chair zips us up into the air.
Zach scowls at me as the autumn breeze hits us head-on and our legs dangle into space. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
“Why won’t you talk to me?”
He looks away, giving me a moment to take in his profile. The strong nose and thoughtful press of his lips. “I’m not looking for trouble, okay?”
This is an odd answer, and though he couldn’t possibly know about my past, it’s a hot button for me. “Talking to me is trouble?”
Our chair bounces as above us, the cable passes through the pulley wheels of the first lift tower.
“How did you end up working for Stu?” I ask when he still hasn’t replied.
“He offered me a job,” Zach says, still not looking at me.
Well, duh. “I haven’t told anyone that it was you at the lake.”
He adjusts his hat, which flashes his tattoo of what I see now are two snakes, one light, one dark. The idea of tracing them with my fingertips should not make my thighs tense.
“Good,” he says.
So I was right—he doesn’t want attention. “Why do you want it a secret?”
The chair rattles past another tower. We’ve entered the section cleared of trees where it’s cooler, and goosebumps prick down my arms. I’m not dressed for this .
“Who was that guy at the show?” he asks instead.
That he’s flipping this conversation around isn’t lost on me, but I’ll play if it’ll keep him talking. “Gabe Olson.”
Zach’s eyes widen like he’s surprised. “Any relation to Sheriff Olson?”
“His dad.”
The muscles in his neck tense.
“How do you know the sheriff?” I ask.
“Who says I know him?”
I give him a look.
“So you and Gabe…” I barely catch this over the hum of the cable and the stiff breeze now making me shiver.
“He’s friends with my brother Jesse.” It’s more complicated than this, but it’ll hold for now. “We all went to the show together.”
“Does he regularly treat you like that?”
My gut rolls inside out. “Not anymore.”
Zach’s gaze flicks to mine, and he releases a tight sigh.
We bump through another set of tower wheels. My ears pop. “Thank you for what you did.”
“You’re welcome.” He sits back, his eyes focused ahead.
Our ascent steepens past a jagged rock section popular with expert skiers in the winter. The idea that someone would throw themselves off a cliff while attached to two pointed blades of fiberglass is beyond me.
“How did you end up at the accident?” I ask.
“I saw the Jeep go off the road.”
The chair bounces through another tower.
I think about this answer. If he’s trying to stay out of trouble—whatever that means—he’s not doing a very good job of it.
“How long have you worked in the childcare center?” he asks before I can fire off another question.
“Two years.”
“You like working with kids?”
“For now.”
He arches an eyebrow. “Then what?”
“Finishing college, then grad school.”
“Grad school, huh? What do you want to study? ”
“Psychology.”
His eyebrow arches up. “Is that why you’re so nosy?”
“Just because you’re elusive makes me nosy?”
“Elusive, huh?” His sly smile makes my face prickle and heat to pool low in my belly. “I like that.”
I force down a swallow to give myself space to formulate an appropriate reply. “How long will you be in Finn River?”
He doesn’t answer. Back to being elusive.
“Are you in employee housing?” Some workers come from as far as Boise every day. Some are offered lodging at the dorm in town. If he’s using this option, that would explain why he would already be on the bus.
“Why? You going to visit?”
This feels dangerously like flirting, and it’s addicting. “I might.”
His tanned face is impossible to read, but he presses his lips together like he’s trying to hide a smile.
“If you’re not in housing, then where are you staying?”
He flashes me that grin, wider this time. Like he’s enjoying the art of being elusive.
I pretend I’m not flustered. Since I have no idea if or when I’ll be able to talk to him again, I ask, “So what’s this ‘in the field’ job?” I put air quotes around in the field.
The view opens up to an endless horizon of high peaks, some capped with early snowfall, and broad basins. The lift terminus nears.
“I’m not building fences, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Oh, now he thinks he can read my mind? “Then what are you doing out there?” My exasperated tone only seems to amuse him more.
The chair slows as we cruise into the landing area.
“There’s live music every Saturday night at The Limelight,” I blurt over the rising hum from the lift’s bullwheel. “You should come.”
“Why?”
I give him a look. “Because it’s fun.”
Two lifties are sunning themselves in Adirondack chairs while classic rock music blares from a portable speaker. They give us a wave as we walk clear of the chair and down the grassy ramp .
With one final blank look, Zach slings his backpack onto his shoulders and continues walking.
Chasing after him is tempting, but I’m pushing my luck as it is with timing. I shouldn’t drink in the sight of him sauntering away, his work jeans hugging his nice backside just right, or the way his broad shoulders fill out his work shirt. And I should forget the way my belly warmed, and my thighs tensed when he smiled and said, I like that .
Why did I invite him to The Limelight?
“You’re a long way from home, girlie,” one of the lifties says from his lounge chair, bobbing his head to the music.
I force my eyes from Zach so I can bum a ride down.
By the time I arrive at the childcare center, the drop-off timeframe is well underway, allowing me to use the mild chaos as cover. Eddi gives me a stern glance as I slip by her. I tie my apron and get to work.
“Hey, Sofie.”
I spin around. It’s Teague Lennox, who’s latest rom-com was the talk of the summer. Bumping elbows with celebrities at Finn River Ranch isn’t new, but those with children usually travel with their own nanny or au pair. Especially those who are single parents, like Mr. Lennox. His wife died from a rare form of cancer when their son was just a baby. So tragic.
“Good morning, Mr. Lennox.”
His son Arlo is gripping his hand tight, his sweet face tense with worry.
“It’s Teague, remember?” Mr. Lennox says to me with a flash of his winning smile.
I ignore this—it’s against policy and also weird. But Mr. Lennox has already turned his attention to his son.
“See? She’s here today,” he says to Arlo. “You and Miss Sofie are going to have fun.”
“That’s right.” I squat down and give the little boy a warm smile. “We can build a racetrack. Or we can play dress up. Or paint?”
Arlo glances up at his dad as if looking for one last dose of reassurance.
“I’ll be back after lunch. Pool time, remember?”
“Can Miss Sofie come too?”
“That’s such a nice invitation,” I interrupt so Mr. Lennox isn’t on the spot. “But that’s your special time with your dad.”
“You’re special too,” Arlo says, his big brown eyes so earnest.
My heart slowly melts. “You are so sweet. Maybe some other time.”
Arlo lets go of his dad’s hand and takes mine. “Okay.”
Mr. Lennox shoots me a look of relief over the top of Arlo’s head. We walk to the row of cubbies along the side wall so Arlo can store his things.
I expect Mr. Lennox to head for the door, but he follows.
It’s kind of annoying—we’ve said our goodbyes. If he lingers, it’s confusing for the child and can make the separation stressful.
While Arlo sits to undo the Velcro on his shoes, Mr. Lennox slips a card from his pocket and leans closer. “Could we talk sometime?”
I shoot him a curious glance.
He nods to Arlo, who is seconds away from realizing his dad is still here.
I take the card. Mostly to encourage Mr. Lennox to go.
“Call me this weekend,” he says in a low tone, then steps around an arriving group of parents.
I tuck the card into my pocket just as Arlo reaches for my hand. He’s got his brave face on, and I give him a warm smile and lead him into the play area.
It’s only later that I get a peek at the card. It’s made of thick white paper, and the ink is a shiny black, like it’s wet. I get a feeling it’s his private number.
What does he want from me?