Chapter Twenty-two
Zara
Cormac blew into the reception area like a storm, swiveling around until he locked on me standing with Giselle, the coolest woman I’d ever met. The second we’d started talking, I’d known I’d wanted her to tattoo me.
“What did you do?” he asked.
Giselle gave me a light shove. “Go. Show him, honey. He’s chomping at the bit. I don’t think he’s very good about surprises.”
Cormac stalked over to me, scanning me from head to toe. “Where is it?”
I pointed to my hip. “Right here.”
He frowned, his brow dropping low. “You didn’t tell me you were thinking about getting a tattoo.”
“I’ve been considering getting one for a while, then Giselle and I started talking while I was waiting for you, and I figured there was no time like the present.” I pushed up on my toes with excitement. “Do you want to see? It’s so pretty.”
“Of course I want to see.”
I took him by the hand and guided him over to one of the chairs in the waiting area. “Sit. You’ll have a better view if you’re lower.”
His frown deepened, but he allowed me to push him into the chair, putting his face in line with my midsection. I turned to the side and lifted my shirt. Giselle had applied a clear bandage over the tattoo, so it was a little blurred, but still visible.
Cormac leaned forward, his breath a warm breeze over my exposed skin as he read the words floating along the small, winding river.
To the river and back
Our childhood motto. We’d said those words more than hello and goodbye. They’d started as a challenge and had become something more. Sunshine and fun. Laughter and freedom. The best memories. The lightest, longest days that always slipped away too fast.
This time, when I left, I’d be able to touch them, to look down at them or see them in the mirror. And maybe I could get those feelings back, if only for a moment.
He reached out, like he wanted to touch me, but stopped himself, dropping his hand heavily into his lap. His gaze flicked to mine. “To the river and back,” he whispered, his voice raspier than before.
“To the river and back,” I repeated.
“Let’s see this.” Jett came around my side and bent to check out my very first tattoo. “Okay, okay. This is cool.”
When he straightened, his mom slipped her arm around his waist. “Pretty, right?”
“For sure.” Jett peered down at Cormac, who was still staring at my hip. “Hey, man…’To the river and back’—isn’t that what you—”
Cormac sprang up from his seat with lightning speed, shaking his head. “It’s not.” Then he turned to Giselle. “If she hasn’t paid yet, add it to my bill.”
I tugged his sleeve. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to.” He pulled free from my hold. “We’ll head out in a minute, all right?”
He followed Jett to the reception desk, not waiting for my answer. Giselle looked at me with one eyebrow raised, and I shrugged.
I knew Cormac well, but there were times I wasn’t sure I understood him at all, and this was one of them. He seemed angry about my tattoo, but that wasn’t quite it.
I really didn’t know what was going on in his head at all.
Cormac insisted I needed to eat so I didn’t get woozy after getting tattooed.
We stopped halfway in a tiny town nestled in the Medicine Bow National Forest. The steakhouse looked like a log cabin from the outside, but the back wall was almost entirely made of glass, and the view was breathtaking.
A crystal-clear lake sparkling in the sun at the base of a bare-faced mountain was so pretty I had to stop for a moment to soak it in.
“Wyoming isn’t real,” I said.
Cormac sputtered a laugh, then rapped on the solid table. “Oh yeah? How do you explain this? Feels real to me.”
I gestured toward the window beside us. “How can that be real? Explain it to me.”
He gazed outside for a moment, his eyes darting over the rocky terrain beyond the lake. “I see what you mean. Doesn’t make sense to be able to live somewhere so beautiful. I forget how lucky I am to be here and see this every day.”
“You are,” I agreed.
He turned back to me, scanning me the same way. “How are you feeling? Any pain?”
“I’m okay. It really is a little tattoo.”
His brow hitched with concern. “Did Giselle explain how to take care of it?” He picked up his fork, flipped it over, then moved on to the knife. “If you need any help or have questions, I’m here.”
“She explained everything.” I reached across the table, covering his fidgeting fingers with mine. “I think I’m good, but if something comes up, you’ll be the first person I come to.”
He chuffed softly. “I just don’t want you hurt.”
“I’m not hurt. But thank you for looking out.” I tipped my chin toward his arm. “What about you?”
He leaned back, his hand slipping out from under mine. “Ah, I’m fine. Shading is no big deal.”
I slowly grinned at him. “You’re so tough.”
He shook his head and smiled down at his lap. “Not at all, but after sitting through an entire backpiece, I’m pretty sure I can handle anything.”
“I still haven’t gotten a good look at that one. When are you going to show me?”
His eyes met mine, warm and glacial all at once. “Whenever you want to see it.”
“Maybe I’ll ask later.”
His mouth curved. “Maybe I’ll say yes.”
Our food was delivered, and Cormac watched me closely, making sure I ate every bite. Then dished more mashed potatoes and buttered rolls onto my plate. When I declared myself too full to eat any more, his frown was as deep as the ocean.
“Are you sure?”
I groaned, rubbing my stomach. “Absolutely. If I keep eating, I’m going to have to unbutton my jeans. I’m not opposed, but I’d rather not in public.”
He grunted.
I pushed the remains of my steak toward him. “You can have the rest. And considering I ate ninety percent of the mashed potatoes, you should have the rest.”
That earned me a scowling glare.
“I’m not eating your food, Zara.”
I bit down on my bottom lip, but it did nothing to hide my snicker. The corner of his eye twitched, trying to keep his expression in place. But it was no use. A bubble of laughter floated out of me, and he gave up.
“I’m just trying to make sure you don’t faint.”
“I know, and I appreciate you looking out for me. It’s extremely sweet.” I propped my chin on my fists and smiled at him across the table. “I promise I’m good, Maccie. A little tattoo is not going to take me down.”
He looked like he didn’t want to believe me, but when the waitress came with the bill, he let it go.
Once again, he paid, accepting no argument from me. We walked outside, Cormac’s hand light on my back. The summer air was warm but not unbearable, and I wasn’t ready to get back in his truck.
“Want to walk down to the lake?”
“I had a feeling you’d want to.” He gave the hem of my shirt a tug. “As long as you’re feeling steady, I’m game.”
I tugged his shirt back. “I’m as steady as they come. Let’s go.”
He led the way around the side of the restaurant to where a narrow dirt path slipped between two clusters of trees. He kept his hand on my elbow, like he didn’t entirely trust my promise that I wouldn’t tip over.
“I swear”—I glanced up at him as we walked down a rocky slope—“I’m not going to keel over.”
“Good,” he muttered. “Because I’m not carrying you back up this hill.”
I snorted. “You absolutely would.”
He didn’t answer, but we both knew the truth.
The trees opened, and the lake spread out before us, even more unreal up close. The water was so clear smooth stones shone beneath the surface, sunlight breaking into shards across the ripples. The mountain loomed on the other side, sharp and bare and impossibly tall against the wide blue sky.
We picked our way across the shoreline until we found two flat stones jutting out just enough to sit comfortably. He lowered himself first, then held out a hand to help me as I sat beside him. Our thighs touched, and neither of us shifted away.
The breeze skimmed over the water and lifted the ends of my hair. Somewhere across the lake, a bird cried out, the sound echoing faintly off the stone. We stayed silent for a while, enjoying the moment.
Cormac leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees, hands dangling loosely between them. His T-shirt stretched across his back, the cotton pulling slightly.
“Is now later?”
He turned his head toward me, brow furrowing. “Later?”
“You said maybe you’d show me your backpiece. I said maybe I’d ask later.” I tilted my head. “I’m asking.”
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Now’s fine.”
I shifted off my rock and slipped behind him on my knees, the heat from the sun-warmed stone seeping through my jeans. My fingers hovered at the hem of his shirt, suddenly aware of how close we were.
Of the breadth of his shoulders.
The steady rise and fall of his chest.
“Ready?” I murmured.
He nodded once, and I slipped my fingers under, slowly lifting, the cotton sliding over his skin. Inch by inch, the ink came into view—dark lines and intricate shading stretching across the expanse of his back.
The world narrowed to the curve of his spine beneath my fingertips and the art etched into his skin—the lake and mountain before us fading into nothing but light and wind as I took my first full look.
It was our favorite spot on the ranch, laid out in shades of black and gray.
The river…and the stacks of pebbles we always left on the shore to mark our visits.
Sagebrush and cottonwoods, rocks tearing through the earth to reach for Heaven.
Mountains loomed like giants, the sun beating down on all of them.
Before I could really think about it, I traced the lines with my fingertips. Cormac’s spine stiffened, but he stayed utterly still. Tears pricked the backs of my eyes, and I couldn’t have explained why if anyone asked.
It was beautiful. Like someone had drawn a dream from my memory onto his skin. I wanted to study it. The way it moved with him when he breathed, when he reached, curled, waved.
“Cormac,” I whispered, pressing my cheek against a mountain peak. “I love it.”