Chapter 25
Beckett
He should not be doing this.
The thought pushed in at the edges of his subconscious. She was fragile, emotionally and physically. He knew that, but somehow
he couldn’t seem to stop himself.
He wrapped his arms around her and deepened the kiss, tasting her breathless response.
She sighed against his mouth, her arms sliding around his neck, and he could feel the tremor in her touch. It sent a shiver
through him, a reminder of just how delicate this moment was. He should pull away. Every rational thought yelled at him to
stop, but her mouth was soft, so inviting, and she pressed closer, dissolving his will with each passing second.
His heart raced and the mountains around them blurred, leaving only the sound of their breathing and his pulse pounding in
his ears.
He knew better. He knew this wasn’t the time, wasn’t what she needed, yet with her in his arms, all the reasons to stop faded,
replaced by the undeniable need to be closer still.
They might have kissed until long past sunset except Hank, bless him, barked at a squirrel or a bird or something. June froze
in his arms and then slid away from him.
They gazed at each other for a long moment and then she shook her head.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Why not?”
“You don’t need to kiss me because you feel sorry for me.”
He made a sound that came out halfway between a laugh and a growl. “Is that what you think that was? I promise, I was feeling several things during that kiss, but I didn’t feel sorry for you a bit. I wanted to kiss you. I wanted to kiss you earlier today. And last night. I still want to kiss you.”
He almost told her about how much he had wanted to do much more with her there beside the lake, about the raw desire that
still surged through his blood.
He bit down on the words and tried to ease the sudden awkwardness with lightness.
“When a guy finds himself alone with a beautiful woman in such a romantic setting, a mountain lake at sunset, he’s almost
morally obliged to kiss her, isn’t he?”
As he hoped, she rolled her eyes and the tension passed, though he doubted either of them would soon forget that heated embrace.
“I told you the lake was spectacular at sunset, didn’t I?”
She turned her attention to the water and they both watched the play of colors across the lake. He was happy to see she ate
more of her sandwich and even managed a few baby carrots.
The sun finally slipped behind the mountains, though bands of color still tinted the clouds gathered there.
“Thank you for bringing me here,” she said. “I can honestly say that was one of the most unforgettable sunsets I’ve ever experienced.”
Because of the beauty? Or because of their kiss? He would never ask.
“You’re welcome. We should probably start heading back while we still have some light.”
He took her water bottle and returned it to the side pocket of his day pack and made sure the headlamps were within easy reach,
then the two of them took off back toward the trailhead with Hank in the lead.
They walked in silence, though Beck’s thoughts were anything but quiet. He could think of another powerful reason why he shouldn’t have kissed her—the secret Ali insisted on still keeping from her.
He knew things about Juniper she didn’t about know herself and he suspected when she did find out, she wasn’t going to be
happy that they had all kept her in the dark for so long.
She was the daughter of a man he had loved dearly, a connection she had no idea about.
If he had his choice, he would have told her the first day she showed up in Bridger Peak. He hated lying to her by omission.
If their roles were reversed and she was withholding important information about him and his past, he would be seriously ticked
off.
When June eventually found out, as she undoubtedly would, she was going to be both hurt and angry with all of them for not
telling her the truth earlier.
For all the beauty of the day, the wind had picked up as soon as the sun started to go down and the temperature had dropped.
“Need your sweatshirt?” he asked, when he saw June wrap her hands around her arms.
“That would be great. I forgot I gave it to you.”
He stopped and set his pack on a rock. The light was dim, but still bright enough that he didn’t need the headlamp yet. He
handed her the hoodie, which she pulled over her head.
“Thanks.”
“Are you doing okay? The way back should be easier. It’s all downhill from here.”
“I’m fine. Thank you for showing me the lake. I’ll be back. I expect it will become one of my favorite places while I’m here.”
“I’m glad.”
She returned his smile without any trace of lingering awkwardness, he was relieved to see.
At the truck, he opened the door for June then dried the mud and dirt off Hank’s paws before letting him in the back seat, grateful all over again for the protective seat cover he kept back there for the dog.
“It’s been a long day for you. You’ll probably head straight to bed as soon as I get you home,” he said as he pulled away
from the trailhead and headed back down the dirt road, his headlights illuminating the way ahead.
“I expect I’ll be reading Carson’s journals for a few hours. I can’t seem to stay away from them.”
“I’m glad you are so interested in them.”
“The more I read, the more convinced I am that he wrote another book that he never published.”
“This is important to you, isn’t it?”
Her teeth flashed with her smile in the darkness. “Who wouldn’t want to discover an unpublished book by one of America’s greatest
literary icons?”
“I expect if Carson left a manuscript unpublished, he had a good reason for doing so.”
“Aren’t you the least bit curious about it?”
“Yes. Of course. I would love to find it. But it might be terrible, considering he would have written it early in his career.
The last thing I want to do is publish something that would tarnish his legacy. I’ve read about that happening before with
other authors when their heirs rush to put out anything else they find posthumously and it doesn’t come close to comparing
to their well-known work.”
“I wouldn’t want to do that, either. You and Alison would of course have the final say as his literary trust executors. But
how can we know if it’s good or bad if we don’t make any effort to look for it?”
“You haven’t found anything else in the journals?”
“Only a few references to his work in progress at the time of the entries, a manuscript that sounds nothing like any of his
published work I know about.”
He sighed. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“If you and Alison want me to, I’ll forget about it and focus only on the journals.”
“But you won’t be happy about it.”
She laughed. “Am I that transparent?”
And that stubborn. Her determination and focus were among the things he was coming to admire about her, and he couldn’t bring
himself to discourage her.
“I’ll help you look. I should have some time this weekend. We can start combing through some of the boxes containing Carson’s
papers here.”
Her delighted expression made him wish he could reach across the cab of the pickup and kiss her again.
How was he supposed to put that kind of thought out of his head when she looked warm and soft and approachable in his baseball
cap and her hoodie?
“Thank you,” she said, reaching for the door handle. “And thank you again for the hike. It was a lovely evening.”
“It was,” he agreed. Despite that kiss he suspected would haunt his dreams.