Chapter 3
Chapter Three
ADELE
Curiosity and casseroles
My breath heaved as I crested the top of a steep, rocky stretch of trail. For a beat, I paused, forcing myself to take several full breaths. My heart was kicking along, almost too fast.
When I straightened, shaking my arms loose, I lifted my gaze toward the view.
For different reasons, I lost my breath for a moment.
It was snatched straight out of my chest by the beauty stretching out in front of me.
Snow-capped mountains stood bright and tall against the sky.
Farther in the distance, an almost impossibly blue glacier-fed lake glittered under the sunshine.
Who knew how many millennia had viewed its beauty?
That was the thing about Alaska for me. Even though I’d grown up here and seen so much of it—had my breath taken time and again by its wild, untrampled beauty—it still got to me.
The landscape here had this ability to remind me how small I was in the world.
I was just a speck. We all were. This moment in time was little more than a blink to the universe.
And yet, it also grounded me and made me feel so alive. Bracingly alive.
The shock of it gusted through me, reminding me of all that I had. This rocky ledge under my feet. The eagle that called sharply in the air nearby, immediately followed by the chatter of a few magpies chasing behind it—fearless despite their tiny size in comparison to the eagle. I laughed.
“Live like a magpie,” I said aloud.
Maybe I was just a speck. Maybe it was honestly a modern medical miracle that I was still here today, alive and well. But I would take it.
I let out a sigh, placing my palm over my heart.
I wasn’t praying. I was just checking my heartbeat, although praying wasn’t silly.
I sometimes thought of Alaska—and nature in general—as God’s cathedral, because it was, really.
Where else could you always be reminded of forces beyond yourself?
That glacier creeping along, slowly melting into the beautiful lake.
Even though the melting was speeding up, practically speaking, it was still slow.
My life and those of the rest of humanity would blink by and the mountains would stand, the glaciers would melt, and the sun would keep on shining.
I shook my head slightly, chuckling to myself. I spun around, looking behind me. This was a short hike, but steep. That was part of the reason I’d chosen it. I was building my stamina and strength to handle these steep bursts. I loved to hike and loved challenging myself.
I shrugged out of my backpack, fished my pair of binoculars out, and scanned the view in front of me, my lips tugging into a smile when I spotted mountain goats, deftly climbing a cliff in the distance.
Sometimes, I thought mountain goats were insane.
They just walked up rocky cliffs like it was nothing.
I lowered my binoculars and tucked them back into my pack. I sat down on a boulder nearby and stretched my legs out, taking several long swallows of water. I sensed the presence before I saw anyone.
I knew I would encounter other people hiking.
It was impossible not to when you were near a town, especially one like Willow Brook.
It was a popular tourist destination, like many towns in Alaska.
Between the multiple reality shows hosted here, Alaska had become more popular lately.
It had always been that kind of destination though—a place on many bucket lists, especially for nature lovers.
I’d been born and raised in Alaska solely because it was a destination trip for my parents.
They’d always wanted to visit Alaska. Both of them had met as, to be blunt, nature-loving hippies in the Pacific Northwest. They’d set off to visit Alaska, winding their way up the Alcan Highway, marking the mileposts as they did, and eventually settling outside of Fairbanks.
The crunch of footsteps reached me, and I heard a voice. The moment I did, a prickle of awareness rose on the back of my neck, racing down my spine. It had to be Cole Silver. A moment later, there he was.
My heart started kicking hard and fast again, and tingles radiated from my belly as it spun in a flip. My reaction to him was inconvenient.
“Well, hey there, Adele,” Cole said easily.
“Hi,” I said, forcing myself to stay seated on the boulder. The urge to stand and make my presence a little larger was almost pressing, but I ignored it.
A moment later, another Silver brother appeared. I wasn’t sure which one. Cole had introduced me to all of them, but they looked a whole lot alike. I tried to guess.
“Asher?” I asked, a question in my voice.
He flashed a grin and waggled his brows. “You got it. How are you, Adele?”
“Doing well. That stretch is steep.”
“No kidding,” Asher said, rolling his eyes as he propped his sunglasses atop his head.
The two men sat down across from me. Cole leaned back on one hand as he eyed me. “You’re hiking all over the area, right?”
“I am. I’ve mostly traveled up in the Northern part of the state and the Southeast outside Juneau and Ketchikan. In this part of the state, I’ve been to Anchorage, but that’s it.”
“Anchorage is a big city,” Asher cut in.
“Didn’t you say you were training for something?” Cole asked.
“Well, I’m not really training. I’m planning to do a trip in Katmai. I hike a lot.”
“We do too. We go over to Katmai sometimes,” Cole replied.
“You could come with us,” Asher offered.
“Yeah, come with us,” Cole replied.
I slid my gaze to his. “I don’t need guides.” My tone was a little sharp.
“Didn’t say you did,” Cole replied smoothly. “Just that there are a lot of bears in that area.”
“It’s smart not to be alone,” Asher added.
I freaking knew he was right, and I hated it. I clenched my teeth slightly. “Fair point. I haven’t settled on a plan, so maybe I’ll take you up on that. But I’m not paying.”
Cole narrowed his eyes, lips twitching at the corners with a sly grin. “Wouldn’t dare suggest that. You’re clearly an experienced hiker. I think we have a Katmai trip scheduled soon. Do you know when?” he asked, glancing toward his brother.
“I think it’s next month,” Asher said.
Cole’s brows arched as he caught my eyes again, and I was grateful for the glare of the sunlight. My cheeks were burning up, even though it was almost spring.
I knew going with a group was the better option, so I shrugged lightly, trying to play it cool. “That might work out. You sure though?” I asked.
“Of course we’re sure,” Asher said. “You’re not staying at the resort, but you count anyway.”
I laughed a little. “I don’t think I could afford to stay there. I hear it’s expensive.”
“Where are you staying, by the way?” Cole asked.
“A short-term rental in town.”
“Here for the whole month?” Asher prompted.
“I’m here from now until late summer, or that’s the plan.”
“Well, I think you should come with us. It helps to have an experienced woman on the hike,” Asher said.
“Do you know who’s going to be in the group?” Cole asked Asher.
Asher grinned at me. “I know more than him.” He tipped his head toward his brother.
I snorted a laugh. “Really?”
“I pay attention to the schedule. Cole doesn’t,” Asher said with a brow waggle.
Cole rolled his eyes. “I’m always where I need to be.”
“Uh-huh. Handy that you have other people to tell you where to go and when,” Asher teased.
“Does Elsa or Kendall hike with you all?” I asked, mentally reviewing everyone I had met the other night.
“Elsa’s a wildlife biologist, so she’s pretty busy with that. And Kendall runs the large animal rescue,” Cole explained.
“So, all brothers? No sisters?”
For a beat, I regretted my question—not because either one of them said anything, but because pain flashed through both of their gazes briefly.
Cole’s shoulders rose with a quick breath. “Our sister, Bree, passed.”
“Oh, no, I’m really sorry. I had no idea.”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Cole said.
“You couldn’t have known,” Asher cut in.
“You all seem like a close family, so I’m sure that was really hard,” I replied softly.
“Oh, yeah.” Cole was quiet for a beat. “We could get caught in the quicksand of this awkward moment, or we could move on,” he added lightly.
If there was one thing I was pretty good at, it was dealing with awkward conversations. My life had taught me that. When I was younger, the awkward conversations revolved around me, so I was always grateful when that wasn’t the case.
“We can move on,” Asher said quickly.
“I’m assuming you’re hiking back down after this?” Cole asked next.
I glanced around. “Unless I’m going to climb down this cliff, but that’s definitely not my plan.”
Asher threw his head back with a laugh, and the rumble of Cole’s low chuckle brought goose bumps prickling over my skin. What the hell was it with this guy?
As the conversation continued and we chatted casually, they gave me some suggestions about hikes in the area and so on. And yet, the only man of the two I reacted to was Cole. Not me. Just my hormones. I was in a big rush to clarify that, to myself, I suppose.
Asher, while as handsome as Cole, had an earnest, almost goofy quality to him.
Cole, on the other hand, was sly, teasing, smooth. He should have annoyed me. And yet, my hormones were all Team Cole, all the way.
Not much later, Asher glanced at his watch and then up at the sky. “We should hike down, and you should grab lunch with us,” he said.
“I should?”
“Absolutely,” Cole chimed in.
“Where are we getting lunch today?” Asher asked.
“It’s a toss-up. Alpenglow Pizza, the Gallery Café, or Firehouse Café.”
“Is this a vote or something?” I asked, glancing between the brothers.
“Well, we like them all, and we can’t decide. Should we do rock, paper, scissors?” Cole asked.
“What do you want?” Asher asked, his gaze bouncing to me.
I thought about all of them. “I’ve been to the pizza place and Firehouse Café, but I haven’t been to the Gallery Café.”
“Well, it’s decided then.” Cole threw a hand up and let it fall to his thigh with a slap. “That’s where we’re going.”
I looked down at my outfit—fitted fleece leggings with hiking boots. “Can I wear this there? I mean, if it’s a gallery…”
Cole grinned. “It’s Alaska. You could go into a five-star restaurant here, and you’d get away with that.”
“You speak the truth,” I returned.
We tucked away our water bottles, shrugged into our packs, and started hiking back down. The brothers moved at a steady pace. They clearly knew this trail well, navigating around patches of rocky stretches and the occasional icy spots from the vestiges of rapidly melting snow.
When we reached the bottom, Cole glanced around. “Did you walk here?”
“Yeah. I’m just staying down the road,” I explained.
“Do you want to ride with us to the café, then?” he asked.
“Well, how far is it?”
“Eh, probably ten minutes. It’s in town, but it’s not right downtown,” Asher explained.
I’d already agreed before I saw their truck.
The next thing I knew, I was wedged into the middle of a bench seat between Asher and Cole, with Cole driving.
His thigh was pressed against mine, and I couldn’t stop my eyes from drifting to his hands—one loosely curled around the steering wheel, the other dangling over the top.
Sweet hell. I was having fantasies about his forearms and his strong, rough hands on me.