Chapter 4 Noah
Noah
Emily stood beside the open door of the resort’s SUV, her cheeks pale and eyes red from crying. She glanced at the back seat and buried her face in her hands. “This is so embarrassing.”
I bit my tongue and picked up the end of the hose, coiling it as I returned it to the stables. Despite the scents of hay and horses, the smell of Luca’s puke was still stuck in my nose.
The SUV would need to be detailed, but I’d leave that to Mark. The rubber floor mats were still wet, but at least they were vomit-free.
I’d been leaving the barn, having spent my morning taking orders from the wedding coordinator, when Emily and Luca had returned from the shortest camping trip in history.
Mark, their host, had practically jumped out of the SUV once they’d reached the parking lot. The minute his boots had hit the ground, he’d bent over by the vehicle’s front tire and heaved.
Emily and Luca had gotten out more slowly. Sheepishly.
Luca’s shirt had been covered in puke, and what hadn’t landed on his clothes had made it to the floor of the vehicle.
Emily had begged me to help, mortified at the idea of asking Mark to clean up her fiancé’s mess. So while she’d taken Luca to their room in the lodge for a shower and nap to sleep off the alcohol, I’d pulled the SUV to the stables and found a hose.
“I’m sorry, Noah.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I told her. “I’ve had to deal with stuff like this before.”
I’d had a couple of students lose their lunches, and I was the least squeamish teacher on staff at the grade school.
“I should have let him sit up front,” she said. “He gets carsick, and the road was winding. He didn’t have any trouble going to the campsite, so I didn’t even think about it on the way down. I just . . .”
“Didn’t want to sit in the back. I know.”
Ever since the accident, she chose to sit up front whenever possible.
Emily ran her hands up and down her forearms, her fingers tracing the scars she’d gotten that day. “So much for camping.”
“You had good intentions.”
“Yeah,” she muttered, looking around. “Where’s Mark?”
Far, far away from the SUV. Apparently, he was a sympathetic puker. “He took a different SUV and went back to the campsite.”
“Good.” She sighed. “Delylah was hiking when Luca and I got into our stupid fight. I didn’t even tell her we were leaving. I don’t want her to feel stuck up there alone with Jake.”
“I thought you wanted them to hit it off.”
“They didn’t. He’s not her type.”
What was her type? I couldn’t remember Delylah dating much in high school.
Granted, I’d left for college her junior year, but even when I came home for vacations and breaks, she’d never had a boyfriend around.
Her date for her senior prom was Emily because my sister had just gotten dumped and Delylah was a damn good friend, so they’d gone together.
Was Delylah into wealthy New Yorkers? Or would she go for a middle school teacher who might not be rich but owned a house and wasn’t scared of a little vomit?
“I’m going to go check on Luca,” Emily said. “Thanks for helping me.”
“Welcome.” I fell in step beside her as we made our way toward the lodge.
The clouds overhead were beginning to darken. Rain wasn’t in the forecast, but the scent of it clung to the air. With the storm coming, maybe Delylah would bail on camping, and tonight, I could spend my dinner with her.
We were halfway through the parking lot when a resort SUV pulled up to the entrance, the Haven River Ranch logo printed on each of the doors.
It was déjà vu.
The driver’s side door flew open, and Mark leaped out, doubling over to retch by the tire.
Then the passenger’s door opened, and a very drunk, very shirtless man slid out.
“Jake?” Emily gasped, her hand coming over her mouth.
“What the hell?” I muttered, following her to the truck.
“I’m fine,” he slurred, carrying a balled-up shirt.
Son of a bitch. I was not cleaning up puke in another vehicle.
Emily looked past him and into the car. “Where’s Delylah?”
“Hiking.” He squinted at her, like he was seeing double.
“I found him walking back,” Mark said, rounding the hood of the truck. He looked as green as its paint.
Emily’s jaw dropped. Then she walked up to Jake and smacked him in the arm. “You left Delylah up there alone?”
“Asshole,” I muttered.
“I’ll go get her. I just need—” Mark put a fist to his mouth, cheeks puffing up like he was going to hurl.
“Noah.” Emily looked to me, eyes pleading.
“I’ll go.” I marched past the drunk idiot, reaching into the SUV for the walkie-talkie in the center console.
Every guide who worked at the ranch took these with them around the mountain. There were still areas where they didn’t work long range, but that campsite had been picked strategically to be close to a good hiking trail and also able to reach the base.
“I’ll be on channel twelve,” I told Mark.
He nodded, shoulders sagging. “Thanks, Mr. C.”
“Welcome.” I looked at the drunk idiot. “Which direction did she go on her hike? East or west?”
He blinked. “Huh?”
“Toward the road or away from the road?”
“Away? I dunno.”
“Of course you don’t.” I dug my truck keys from my jeans pocket and marched across the lot, wasting no time heading up the mountain.
The clouds were getting darker by the minute. A chill skated down my shoulders as I pulled away from the resort.
By the time I reached the campsite, the sound of rumbling thunder echoed from the sky. I put on the jacket and cowboy hat that I kept in the back seat of my truck, then checked each of the tents. Empty. So I started down the narrow hiking trail, hoping like hell she wasn’t far off.
The campsite was still in view when the drops started to fall, plinking off the brim of my hat. It was a steady drizzle at first, and then the clouds opened up, the downpour so fast it was hard to see twenty feet down the trail.
“Delylah!” I cupped my hands around my mouth as I yelled, not slowing as I kept walking.
A bolt of lightning flashed, followed by the crack of thunder a few seconds later.
I picked up my pace, careful not to slip on the rocks as I moved faster. My jeans were getting soaked, the denim heavy, and my boots squelched in the mud.
“Delylah,” I shouted her name, over and over, except my voice was swallowed by the storm.
My pulse pounded in my ears. The pit in my stomach was getting deeper. If something happened to her, if she was hurt or crossed paths with a predator—
“Ouch. Damn it.” A frustrated growl cut through the noise from the rain. “Ow. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
A breath rushed from my lungs. I’d never been so glad to hear a string of curses in my life.
Delylah came limping along the path, wearing a white tank top that was soaked through and a pair of cutoff shorts. Her tennis shoes were wet and dirty. Her dark hair hung in soaked strands over her shoulders. Her bangs were plastered to her forehead.
In her arms was a denim shirt, wrapped around what was probably her camera to keep it dry.
She looked up and froze. “Noah?”
“There you are.” I slapped a hand to my heart to keep it from beating out of my chest.
She stared at me, wide eyed, for a moment, then her pretty brown eyes flooded as she burst into tears.
“Hey.” I rushed for her, pulling her into my arms. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
She buried her face in my chest, her shoulders shaking as a sob worked free. “I hate glamping.”
I chuckled, holding her closer. “Yeah, it’s not as good as regular old camping.”
She sniffled, shaking her head. As quickly as the tears started, they stopped.
It came as no surprise that she was quick to pull herself together.
Delylah was the kid who’d scrape her knee and keep on playing.
When we were younger and we’d ride our bikes around the neighborhood, anytime she’d crash, she’d just get back on and keep riding. She was as tough as she was beautiful.
But even though she didn’t cry for long, she made no move to let me go. She clung to my jacket, burrowing closer, a perfect fit in my arms.
Holding her felt like the most natural thing in the world. Like it was always supposed to be this way.
The last time I’d hugged Delylah was at my parents’ annual Christmas Eve party a few years ago. Mom and Dad liked to see just how many people they could cram into their house for eggnog and appetizers.
Delylah had been wearing a green dress to the party, the color bringing out the flecks of gold in her eyes.
I’d had a hard time looking away, but I’d kept my distance. My girlfriend at the time had come along, even though we’d already decided we made better friends than lovers.
When my path had finally collided with Delylah’s at the wet bar, the hug I’d given her had been quick, just a squeeze around her shoulders. Then I’d made up an excuse and left the party.
All because of the promise I’d made Emily.
A promise I’d never been more tempted to break.
Delylah let out a long sigh and leaned away, looking up with a pout. “I twisted my ankle. And scraped my leg.”
“Let me see.” I bent to inspect her thigh and the red scratches that ran from the hem of her shorts nearly to her knee. “How bad does it hurt?”
“Not that bad. My ankle is worse, but I’ll survive.” She took a step, but before she could start down the trail, I swept her into my arms.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Carrying you.”
She rolled her eyes. “I can walk.”
“And I can carry you.”
Delylah opened her mouth, probably to argue, but another bolt of lightning flashed.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“Good idea.” She nodded, looping her arms around my neck.
We were both drenched by the time we made it back to the campsite. I carried her to the largest tent, setting her down so she was out of the rain.
“I’ll go radio the lodge. Let them know we’re making our way back.”
“Wait.” She grabbed my arm before I could dart outside.
I stared down at her, wholly transfixed by the way she pulled her lower lip between her teeth.
The image of me taking that lip between my own teeth was instant. It took every ounce of willpower I possessed not to move.
The rain pounding on the canvas filled the silence until she whispered, “Noah?”
“Yeah?”
“What if we didn’t go back? At least, not yet.”
A grin tugged at my mouth. “I’ve always wanted to try glamping.”