Chapter Twenty-Eight
Bobbi
“Wow…” I look up at the orange-brown layers of rock that form Antelope Canyon. I didn’t know what to expect when Noah said he’d take care of everything we’d need for the weekend. But his excitement was enough to get me to go along with the plan sight unseen.
Noah chartered a turboprop plane for a hop to northern Arizona. Apparently, the airport in Page isn’t big enough to accommodate a jet, and there are no convenient commercial flights to the area.
“Time is of the essence.” He winked, saying he didn’t want to waste hours driving from Phoenix.
I’ve heard of canyons in the area, but I’ve never been to any. When I was younger, I was overseas with my parents and adventures of any kind were strictly forbidden. My mom absolutely refused to go anywhere that could be deemed dangerous, even though the State Department provided security when we moved to regions considered less than safe by the government. Dad was too preoccupied with work to bother. I doubt he would’ve taken me anywhere even if he hadn’t been busy because he hated arguing with Mom. She was impossible when she felt threatened, and logic wasn’t her strongest point. And by the time I finished college, I was working.
I’m glad Noah chose this canyon for our first adventure together as a couple. The photos I’ve seen didn’t do it justice. The cool air inside provides a respite from the baking sun, and the early afternoon light beams straight into the canyon, creating beautiful highlights. Noah threads his fingers through mine as we follow our very competent looking Navajo guide in on a group tour. Apparently, the canyon doesn’t allow individual tourists to wander around unescorted.
“The weather forecast called for rain later this afternoon, but hopefully it won’t lead to a flash flood.” Our guide looks up at the sky that’s bright blue at the moment. It was cloudy a few minutes ago. “We had one two days ago—lasted about half an hour and washed away a lot of the soil.” The green beam from his laser pointer hits a line a little over a foot above the ground. “That’s where the floor used to be two days ago.”
A few of the people in our group make shocked noises. I frown at the old soil level still marked on the stone. Water powerful enough to swipe away a foot of sediment in a few minutes isn’t something I ever want to take on, no matter how “adventurous” it might be.
“Just how dangerous is it?” a woman to my left says with a slight French accent.
“People have died here,” the man responds. “If it happens, there’ll be no hesitating. We turn back and head for the bus.”
I glance at the opening behind us. Noah leans closer until his breath tickles my ear. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”
“Really? How’s that going to work?”
“I’m an excellent swimmer.”
“You can outswim the crocs in the Nile?”
“Oh, easily.” The corners of his eyes crease into fans. “And worse. A flash flood is no match.”
I laugh quietly at his bravado. “My hero.”
“At your service, milady.” He winks.
The guide points out at the section ahead of us. “That’s the bear.”
I squint, unsure what I’m supposed to see. Noah puts a hand on my shoulder and pulls me more toward his angle of view. “See it now?”
I narrow my eyes. And then finally see it—a bear on its hind legs, right ahead of me. “That’s so cool.”
Noah and I snap a shot, then take a selfie together with a wide grin. The guide notices and gestures for the phone. “Let me.”
I hand him my phone, and he has us stand in front of a cool sandstone formation with layers and layers of different shades of orange. He takes a picture of Noah and me, arms around each other’s waists, and hands me the phone. It’s a good shot, almost professional, and I smile at our relaxed expressions. Noah in particular looks very comfortable, like he’s done this hundreds of times.
I send him the photo, and he grins. “Damn, you look amazing. I’m going to set this as my new background.” He fiddles around, then flips the phone. “One of the best things that’s ever happened to me.”
His tone is so earnest and open, his eyes bright with hope and love. And the wall I had erected around my heart starts to crumble like wet sand. He’s like an emotion ninja. No matter how strong my castle’s defenses are, he always finds a way in.
Just as I start automatically refortify the walls, I pull myself back. It isn’t fair to continually put obstacles in his way just because I’m feeling unsure. He’s trying to reassure me, and I should try to accept his gesture in the same spirit, until he does something to betray me. Still, it’s scary as hell—a little exhilarating, too, honestly—but very, very scary.
“That’s the dragon’s eye.” The guide’s words pulls my focus back to the tour. He points to the light coming through a particular gap above us.
I look up. Little bits of wet dirt crumbles from the stones soaring over us. I put up a hand to keep the dust and soil from getting into my eyes, then snap a shot of the dragon’s eye. Unlike the bear, this one is obvious, the pupil glowing in a glorious orange fireball. It looks amazing.
“An adorable little dragon.” Noah grins at me.
“Adorable? How? Where?” Am I missing something?
He puts an arm around me. “Right here.”
I laugh. “Oh, okay. Adorable, huh?”
“Mmm-hmm. Fierce, too. And sexy.”
“If I’m a dragon, what are you? A bear?”
“Of course not, silly. I’m the treasure.”
“You want me to sprawl on you?” I say, as images of old drawings of dragons coiled around a pile of gold and gemstones fleet over my mind.
“Totally.” He lowers his voice. “Thighs on either side of my head…your pussy on my face.”
I look around to make sure nobody in our tour group is paying attention. “Noah,” I chide, although the laughter in my tone undermines my intent.
His clever fingers stroke my side. “Come on. I’ll make it worth your while.”
My cheeks heat. From the way he can bring me to one mind-destroying climax after another, I’m sure sitting on his face would be more than worth my while. Wetness pools between my legs, which is a little shocking. I’ve always enjoyed sex, but with Noah, my body craves it. There’s something about him that puts me in a constant hum of excitement.
From the wicked gleam in his eye, he knows it, too. His fingers slip lower. More bits of wet dirt fall from the opening of the canyon. Some non-dirt moisture comes through, feeling like a sprinkle. A moment or two later, there is a trickle of water flowing toward us along the canyon floor.
Our guide looks up, squinting, then at the ground. He turns to the group. “Flash flood! All right, people, back to the bus!”
The people in our group start to mill around. A few of them glance upward, searching for some sign of torrential rain or water pouring in. Several more drops fall—more liquid than dirt this time, but they don’t seem threatening.
“Look,” Noah says, nodding at the ground.
Small currents of water are now slithering along the brown soil like snakes. I look up at him. “Uh-oh.”
“Like the man said. Time to go.”
People turn and start to run. A few scream, and a woman in strappy heels complains in Italian. I shake my head. Who wears high heels to walk in a desert? The tour site and pamphlet specifically asked everyone to wear sturdy and comfortable shoes.
Noah takes my hand and escorts me at a steady pace. Around us, the crowd is hopping and running over the puddles and streams of water that are becoming increasingly wide. He shields me from a trio of guys in their early twenties who rush out cursing, bumping into others on the way. Other tour groups are also darting toward the field where the buses are.
Maybe they’re panicked or scared. But I’m surprisingly calm. The warmth of Noah’s hand on mine is reassuring—somehow, I feel like we’re going to be fine no matter what. The little currents are now much wider and deeper, water flowing faster and creating small ponds and eddies in places. The rapid pace of water pouring down from the rocks above us should inspire fear, especially after the guide said that people have died. But knowing that Noah is with me leaves no room for alarm, just the exhilaration of experiencing something unexpected.
I know he’s going to keep me safe.
By the time we’re halfway back to the entrance of the canyon, brown-orange waterfalls that didn’t exist when we entered are pouring over us. Piercing screams and shouts are everywhere. I pull my shoulders together as cool water and dirt run down my back; Noah wraps an arm around me, not caring that he’s getting caught in the deluge as well. I press closer, seeking his warmth through our clammy and gritty clothes as we walk rapidly toward the mini-bus with its sturdy tires.
The guide boards last, does a quick headcount and gets behind the wheel. The rain beats on the roof of the bus in a deafening staccato. I look up, then at Noah. He grins. “Ever been in a situation like this?”
I shake my head, then smile as he puts an arm around me.
Somebody sitting in front says something, but the words are lost in the general chaos. Everyone gets tossed around as the guide throws the bus into gear and then does an amazing job of maneuvering the sliding, skidding, jouncing bus over what was dry desert ground less than an hour ago but is now an expanse of mud and gravel that can barely be seen through the rain-spattered windshield. I sigh and move closer to Noah. Despite the crowd and the racket, somehow it feels like we’re alone sharing a secret adventure together.
The bus tosses us up and down, left and right as though we’re on a roller coaster without a safety bar. Laughing, I tighten my hand on Noah, who squeezes it back. He’s so warm, and I can smell the musky scent of him over the dirt and rain. The driver leans left and right as he wrestles the heaving bus over the terrain like a ship in a stormy sea. But instead of being terrifying, it’s fun—probably from being such a change from my regular life. Or maybe it’s being with Noah.
“I didn’t know weather could turn so fast,” I say as the rain, impossibly, grows even more furious.
“It happens out here.” Noah grins. “You should see it in Africa.”
“I bet.” I gently push wet hair off his forehead. “So is this the kind of adventure you have?”
“Sometimes.”
“Probably cooler in Africa.” My tone is more wistful than I intend.
“But not as much fun.” He gives me a soft peck. “You weren’t with me there.”
I laugh, then kiss him back. His eyes twinkle, and I’m falling in love with this side of him. At the same time, a sober voice slides into my mind with a warning.
We could only manage a canyon tour for a weekend, but if it weren’t for my schedule, Noah probably could’ve gone on a bigger adventure. One with more excitement, discoveries and new experiences. How long will he be satisfied with just coming over to the bakery to give me flowers, taking care of my cat and placing his own exciting life on hold?