Chapter 1 #2
We’re just pulling away from the curb when Nathan and his bride-to-be step out of the terminal with Margaret.
Dad shoots me a concerned glance. “Was Nathan on your flight?”
I shake my head. “His mom.”
Dad reaches across the console for my hand. His weathered, callused palm is warm against mine, and I squeeze it back. But he thankfully honors our unspoken agreement to leave the topic alone.
Maryanne leans in close as we dance to a cover of “Shake it For Me.” “That sexy cowboy keeps looking at you.”
I don’t exactly feel ready for this. It’s too loud.
Everyone’s too…close. Compared to the research cabin in the wilderness I shared with a handful of other humans for months, it might as well be another planet.
But Maryanne and Summer and her boyfriend Pete convinced me that the best way to acclimate to society after six months of field work is a night of dancing and debauchery at the Sweetwater Saloon, which is surprisingly packed for a Sunday night.
“What sexy cowboy?” I shout in her ear because I’m not here to get social. I just want to let loose with my friends. To feel pretty and whole and untethered from my worries. At least for a few hours.
Maryanne takes my hand and spins me, whispering, “Four o’clock” in my ear, but she’s shorter than me and we erupt in a fit of giggles when her arms smack my neck. It’s only when I take a turn twirling her around that I get my glimpse.
The guy is standing in a group with three guys, dressed in faded black Wranglers that hug his strong thighs and a snap shirt with the cuffs rolled up, revealing muscular forearms. A partially grown-in beard covers his handsome jaw, and his hair is a half-wild tangle of dark brown curls, but it’s the color of his eyes when he looks my way that makes my breath catch.
They’re a soft blue-gray, exactly like the sky before it rains.
A little thrill walks down my spine, but I spin back to Maryanne, who pumps her eyebrows at me.
I scoff, but do I feel the guy’s eyes drinking me in? I might be okay with that.
The song changes to a cover of “Made for You” and Pete leads Summer to the front, his hand on her lower back. I’m about to pull Maryanne after them but a tall guy with a full beard and a warm smile saunters over and asks Maryanne to dance.
Maryanne glances at me, a question in her eyes, but I shoot her a wink, then shuffle toward the edge of the dance floor.
Pinching the cute T-shirt Maryanne loaned me, I work some cooler air across my sweaty stomach. I should use the breather to grab us some waters, but I’m not leaving my wingman like that.
Pete is cradling Summer close as they rock, pausing now and then to kiss like they don’t care who sees.
It makes me miss Nathan a little bit, which brings up feelings I don’t want to revisit tonight. It took me too long to realize it, but Nate wasn’t good for me, and I would never want him back.
“I didn’t take you for a sidelines kind of gal.”
I glance to my left, where Sexy Cowboy has just slipped through the crowd. It’s quieter in this corner, so he doesn’t have to shout.
I force my gaze from his stormy eyes, but I’m too late, and my embarrassment prickles the back of my neck. “How would you know?”
He offers me a small bottle of water. “Thirsty?”
Even though I’m being borderline rude, he came with a gift? Why was I snarky to the hottest guy here? There’s something about him that’s unsettling, though it’s most likely a me problem.
“Thank you.” I don’t support the use of single-use plastics, but I take the bottle from him and crack the lid anyway, partly to make sure it wasn’t already open, and partly to keep me from picking a fight with this guy about the harmful effects of microplastics in our food chain.
While I sip, a detail scratches to the surface. When we locked eyes earlier, he was the only person in his group without a drink in his hands.
“Are you the DD tonight?” I ask.
With an easy smile, he surveys the dance floor and sips from his water, giving me a flash of the rose tattoo etched across the back of his left hand. I think there are words there too but I can’t read them.
“I’m the DD every night,” he replies.
“You don’t drink.”
He shakes his head and gives me a steady glance. “Does that bother you?”
My brother and my close friend Morgan are both recovering addicts, so anyone who prioritizes the welfare of their posse gets an automatic status upgrade in my book. “Nope.”
Out on the dance floor, the stranger spins Maryanne, making her laugh. The guy’s face lights up, and my heartstrings give a little tug. Maybe romance isn’t dead after all. Or at least it’s not dead for some of us.
I sip my chlorinated water, which just makes me miss the glacier-cold source at the Selkirk field station. “Why’d you say that?” I ask the guy to fill the uncomfortable silence. “About the sidelines.”
He gives me a casual shrug. “You seem confident.”
Maybe my acting isn’t so bad after all. “And that translates into a full dance card?”
“It should.”
An unwelcome flutter erupts in the pit of my stomach. “How do you know I’m not having an existential crisis?”
He laughs. “Are you?”
Are we flirting? “Maybe.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
“Not really.”
He laughs again, rocking back on his boots. “An existential crisis doesn’t scare me, just so you know.”
“You like it messy, huh?” I scrunch my eyes shut for an instant. Only me would turn this casual conversation awkward.
To his credit, he doesn’t say anything cheesy. Instead, he sets his empty water bottle down and nods to the dance floor. “How about we dance it out.”
I glance at Maryanne.
“We can keep tabs on our friends from out there,” he adds.
Bonus points for how observant this guy is. “Who are you watching out for?”
“The guy dancing with your friend.”
I cock my head, curious. Should I be worried about this guy knowing who my friend is? “Are you seriously concerned for his safety?”
His eyes shine with a playful gleam. “What kind of friend would I be if I wasn’t?”
His ability to keep surprising me is disarming.
“Come on.” He offers me his hand.
The song’s half over, so what’s the harm?
I set my mostly empty bottle of water on a side table so I can come back later and find a recycling bin, then slide my hand into his.
His palm is warm and dry and his fingers fold over mine.
Based on those muscles defining his forearms and the thick calluses on his palms that tell me he’s a man who knows the value of hard work, I’m sure he could easily crush my hand, yet his grip is gentle.
We weave to the edge of the dance floor and he spins me to face him.
Even the dim lighting can’t hide his rugged good looks. It’s the mop of lazy curls coupled with the dark scruff and mustache creating a mountain man vibe, or maybe he really is a cowboy? Heat coils down my spine because cowboys have always been my weakness.
He keeps hold of my left hand and tucks his right behind my shoulder, so I place mine at the top of his bicep. It’s intimate yet leaves plenty of space between us.
I try to relax into his lead, but every point of contact is radiating warmth into my skin.
Plus his gray-blue eyes framed by dark lashes are hard to look away from, and up close like this, he smells good.
A little spicy, like cloves, and something comforting, like sun-warmed cotton.
Deep in the pit of my stomach, those butterflies are ramping up.
Is it because he’s so handsome that I can’t get a breath?
Or am I out of practice? I haven’t dated anyone since Nate broke up with me almost two years ago.
Partly because of my fieldwork schedule, but mostly because I don’t trust myself.
What if I have terrible taste in men that will just repeat over and over?
Maryanne thinks it’s time I bust out of exile, but I’m like a freshly molted dragonfly, flexing untested wings.
The guy smiles. “Of all the places you could have picked tonight, why the Sweetwater?”
“It’s got the best music,” I reply.
“So you’ve been here before? You’re a local?”
“I grew up not far from here.”
“Are y’all celebrating something?”
His honeyed drawl sends a shiver pulsing beneath my skin. “My ex is getting married.” Thank you, tequila. Or maybe I’m testing this guy’s tolerance for messy. Or I’m just low on fucks to give right now.
He gives a surprised chuff and the corners of his eyes crinkle. “And you’re celebrating because?”
“It’s not me.”
He’s turning us slowly, giving me a new view of the dance floor every few steps. “So that’s not the existential crisis.”
I can’t help my laugh. “Nope.” I glimpse Maryanne and her partner definitely dancing closer together now. “How’d you end up here tonight?”
“I’m starting a new job soon, and my buddies decided we needed a road trip. Bear came here a few years ago and wanted to show it to us.”
“Bear?” I ask, my brows knitting together.
“Short for Barrington, but everyone calls him Bear. He’s also built like one and can grow a full beard in four days.”
His eyes warm when he talks about his friend, and that makes me smile. “Where are you from?”
“A little town you’ve probably never heard of.”
I squint at him. “Try me.”
“Gardener. It’s on the Payette River.”
“Down south,” I say because I’ve floated the Payette a couple of times, and Gardener is one of the take-outs. It’s more farm and cow country than the mountains up here.
He gives me another chin dip and the hint of a smile. “You know your geography.”
“I’m a wildlife biologist for the State of Idaho. I’d better know it.”
His eyebrows disappear into his hairline. “Seriously?”
A tendril of unease works up my chest, but I laugh it off. “Don’t look so surprised.”
“You’re too pretty to be a wildlife biologist.”
I tear my hand from his and step back. “Excuse me?”