Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
SOFIE
Why does Zach always seem to catch me with my guard down? Crying? Seriously? I shove my annoyance back by focusing on our task.
We pick up where I was working before I saw the owl, in an open section between sparse groves of tall pine trees. Because the wire is so old and rusted, cutting through it is brutally hard. Then add in how the bottom row is sometimes buried in the dirt and it’s slow, sweaty work.
“Where did you learn all of that?” He’s probably going to call me nosy again, but I can’t help it. Ava’s dubbed him the “International Man of Mystery” even though Canada hardly counts as a foreign country. Is that why I can’t get him out of my mind? He’s a puzzle I crave to unlock? Or is it the broad shoulders and rare smile and those devastating blue eyes?
“My dad used to take in injured raptors.”
I try to cover my surprise by getting really focused on wiggling one of the metal posts from the ground.
“He’d fix ‘em up, then release them.”
Knowing he has family is like a soft hug around my heart. “And they survived?”
Out of the corner of my eye, Zach nods, his face set in a hard grimace as he clips a section of wire. “How do you know which fences can be torn out?”
I get the feeling he’s doing that conversation-flipping thing again—but I don’t mind as long as he’s not running away from me. “The university did a study a few years ago. Mapping and cross-referencing. A lot of these were illegal to begin with.”
“Your dad involved in this project?”
I question him with a glance—he knows who my dad is?—but he’s focused on wrapping the stiff wire we’ve just freed into a coil.
“Yes and no.” I cut through the top U-bolt on the next post, but the wire is so stiff that it stays taut. “He helped get the project underway, but he works long enough hours as it is.”
“Who’s in charge of monitoring all of this?”
“There’s a couple of stakeholders, but I only know Dustin. He manages the volunteers.”
“Where’s he today?”
“Probably fishing.”
Zach eyes me, but he’s quick to look away when I toss down the post, breathing hard.
“This must be important to you,” he says.
“Not just to me.”
He cocks his head, a curious look on his face.
Explaining this is complicated, and it’s not that I can’t unpack it for him, it’s just rare that anyone asks. “My little sister, too.” It’s not a lie. Linnie is a force to be reckoned with when it comes to animal rights, and she’s only twelve.
“What about your brother?”
I shake my head. This is also a complex topic. “He cares, but differently. He’d rather do his own thing.”
“So, more of a creative type?”
He’s quick. “Yeah. Right now, it’s making films.”
Zach secures the coil of wire with twine. I can’t help but drink in the confident way he moves and the easy strength in his arms and shoulders. Was he an athlete in his previous life? A cowboy?
When he held me for those brief moments, his strength was all around me, but it wasn’t suffocating. It’s confusing as hell. I don’t need anyone to protect me or shelter me. That’s my job.
“What does he film?” Zach asks, pulling me back to the conversation.
We’re nearing where we clipped the wire to free the owl. What would I have done if Zach hadn’t been here? I have my radio, but Dad is well past its range today, meaning I’d be left with raising the sheriff. Who knows how long I’d be waiting for his help.
I shrug. “He makes these shorts. He writes the scripts and stuff.”
“You don’t approve.”
How did he get that? “I think it’s great. He’s making one about The Winter Range Project.”
“But?” Zach passes behind me to the next length of fence in the exposed section that crosses the prairie, the little current of air in his wake making my belly warm.
“He wants to move to Hollywood.”
“And you’re scared he won’t make it.”
It’s unnerving how well he’s reading me, and I don’t like it. “I’m more scared that he will.”
The silence stretches between us, the midday breeze rich with the scent of grass and earth.
Zach grabs the shovel and starts digging into the hard ground around the post. “Sounds like you hold on tight to the people you care about.”
I finally get through a thick twist of rusted wire and shake out my sore hand. I’m going to need to ice it tonight. “Someone has to.”
Zach’s attentive glance washes over me. My thoughts tumble end over end wondering what it could mean.
“You still close with your dad?” I want more, but I’m trying to keep my curiosity at a simmer.
“Yeah.” Something in his tone draws my focus. Did something happen to his dad? Or to their relationship?
“What caused you to quit school?” He slams the shovel deeper into the earth, then pries it back to widen the gap. His brow is coated with a sheen of sweat.
“I was needed here. ”
He exhales a low huff, but it’s echoed by the thump of the shovel blade sinking into the dirt, so I can’t be sure I heard right. “I thought I was the elusive one.”
When I glance up, he gives me a wink.
This makes me laugh, even though what I really want to do is shrug it off so he doesn’t know how much he’s stirring me up.
We finish the rest of the section in companionable silence. The clip and twang of the wire and thump of the shovel blend with our labored breaths and the steady breeze. With the sun beating down on my shoulders and the warmth rising from the prairie, I start craving a dip in the river and a cold soda.
When the last of the wire is coiled and staged, we’re both sweaty. I’m down to my tank top and my ponytail feels limp, with flyaways tickling my temples.
“We could put our toes in the creek? Cool down before you head off?”
He eyes me. “I thought you agreed to go home.”
I wink at him, and his gaze brightens like he’s about to laugh. “I said maybe.”
He steps close, and now that we’re sweaty and sticky, the scent of his skin is like a combination of cotton and warm earth and spice.
“You have some serious authority issues, don’t you?”
I give him my cockiest grin because he’s earned it. “Depends on the authority.”
His eyebrows arch up, but the delight is clear on his astonished face.
Surprising him just became my new favorite pastime.
A sly grin makes the apples of his cheeks shine. “That might be fun to explore sometime.”
He’s so close to me now, his chest rising and falling dangerously close to mine, the air between us alive with intoxicating tension.
His slate-blue eyes glint with mischief, like he’s reading my thoughts.
Is he? I savor the tingle in my belly a moment longer, then spin away to hide my blush. “Follow me.”
By the time we scramble down to the creek, I’ve managed to dial back the brazen energy going wild inside me. Or at least I’ve softened it enough to keep me from doing something reckless.
The big puffy clouds in the blue sky seem to have doubled since the morning, turning the air thick, like it might storm. A breeze rustles the tall grass lining the little creek and scuffs the surface of the water. Goosebumps ripple down my bare arms, but I’m not cold.
I set my pack on the grassy ledge and slip off my boots and socks, then scrunch up my jeans and pad over the gritty sand bar to the water. The cold is a delicious shock on my feet. I risk wading in a little deeper.
When I turn back, Zach is still unlacing his shoes. He doesn’t notice me watching, and I look away before he catches me. Before the butterflies in my stomach can multiply.
Zach splashes into the creek and wades past me. He’s rolled up his cuffs to his knees, revealing pale skin and calves well-defined by muscle. It starts me wondering again about his past.
Zach bends down and scoops water to his face, then stands and flips his head sideways, sending the excess water flying.
I recoil as the spray pricks my sweaty skin.
He scoops water into his hands and compresses his palms so that a spurt arcs in my direction.
I dodge, but in doing so, the bottoms of my cuffs get wet. “Hey!”
“Afraid you’ll melt?”
“Not funny. You ever hike in wet jeans?”
“Yep.”
A memory flares of him at the lake, diving back under the water to pull Jesse out. But I get the feeling he’s not referencing the rescue.
He scoops more water and aims it at me, grinning.
“Don’t you dare.”
With a grin, he pumps another squirt, hitting my arm.
I shoot him a murderous glare. “Show me how to do that.”
“This?” He cups more water and arcs a squirt over my shoulder.
I give him a little splash with my toe, but he dodges. “It’s easy.” He steps closer to demonstrate. “You make a seal along the bottom.”
I cup palms together the way his are, fingers together, hands at ninety degrees, the opening made from the circle between my right thumb and the crook at the base of it .
“Start with a little bit of water.” He bends down to scoop some, then pumps a squirt straight up.
I try to copy him, but my squirt just oozes out of the cracks.
“Quicker,” he says.
When I try that, my squirt hits me in the neck.
Zach laughs. “Maybe work on your aim next.”
I wipe the creek water off my neck, but it’s already dribbled down between my breasts and soaked the top edge of my tank top. Prickles erupt on my chest, and I’m regretting this invitation. Because I’m liking whatever this is with him way too much.
As if to goad me further, he takes another scoop and aims it at me.
“No—”
But he’s already fired, and even though I spin away, he gets the side of my right breast, soaking through to my skin.
“Oops. I seriously didn’t mean to do that.” His anxious expression makes me feel even more exposed.
I try to pretend I’m not blushing and flustered.
“Get me back.” He drops his hands to his sides. “Come on. It’s only fair.”
“Life’s supposed to be fair?”
His expression turns thoughtful, like I’ve said something important. “Is that what it’s like for you?”
I swallow my rising discomfort. “I didn’t mean to be dramatic. Life is fair enough. Like today, with the owl. It wasn’t fair that she was trapped in old fencing that shouldn’t have been there in the first place, but we made it right by helping her. Setting her free.”
“Is that why you’re out here in your off time, all alone? To make things fair?”
I stare him down while the creek curls around my ankles and the insects hum from the grass. Is he messing with me, or is something different going on here?
“You think it’s dumb.”
His intense blue eyes soften. “You may be a lot of things, but dumb isn’t on the list.”
A gust heavy with the scent of minerals scuffs the surface of the creek and sends goosebumps down my arms.
I risk a little splash in his direction. He’s quick to dodge, but I soak the back of his left leg. “Come on. You can do better.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I’d rather know what’s on the list.”
“What list?”
He takes a step closer just as I lift my toe to splash him, and my little arc of water soaks his thighs. Oops. But it’s like he doesn’t feel it. Or care.
“Of what you think I am.”
He closes the gap between us so he’s near enough that I catch his cotton and clove scent. The cool water slipping past my ankles sends a shiver up my shins.
“I think you’re loyal. Fearless. Brave.” His long, dark lashes lower as he scans me up and down. “Strong. Passionate.” He arches an eyebrow. “How am I doing?”
“Good so far.”
“You need more?”
I can’t help but grin. “You got more?”
He laughs, and it’s so pure and beautiful.
His eyes lock with mine. “Cocky. A little bold. When you want something.”
“I’m an open book, huh.”
“Does it bother you?”
I give his body a slow scan in the same way he did with me. “It’s not bothering me right now.”
“How will I know when it does?” He closes the distance between us so our lips are practically touching. My heart is beating harder, faster.
“I’ll be sure to tell you.” I rest my hands on his waist. Desire pools low in my belly. It feels so good to touch him. Feel him. Even if only through his clothes.
I close my eyes as he leans in to kiss me. Our lips touch in the softest, most tender embrace. Like a first-date kiss. Like a question.
I answer it with a kiss of my own, tugging on his lower lip just a little.
A low rumble sifts down the mountain, carried by the wind.
Zach slowly pulls back, a shy grin on his face. “Still okay?”
“Yeah.” I laugh. The moment could be awkward, but it feels… sweet. Ma ybe it’s how he’s looking at me right now. Or maybe it’s how fragile my heart feels in my chest.
But is it the good kind of fragile, or is it a warning?
Another low rumble of thunder carries down the mountain, this one louder.
To my surprise, Zach tucks a damp strand of my hair behind my ear. It feels intimate, and I can’t help the shiver that drops down my spine. “It might be time to get out of this creek.”
I’m torn between wanting to kiss him again and worrying about where it could take us. There’s also the storm, but I’m a mountain girl—storms are a way of life.
“You’re right.” I reach for his hand. The instant our palms touch, a wave of intense warmth washes through me.
Together, we swish through the shallows to the bank. As the clouds thicken above us, we slip on our shoes in silence, but my chattering thoughts are loud in my head. Questions I know he won’t answer. Or that I’m too scared to ask.
“You need an escort to your car?”
I smile and shake my head.
He gazes at me with that same intense focus, then nods and turns away. I watch him for another moment, willing him to turn back, but he melts into the hazy afternoon light like a ghost.