Once again, she’s trying not to show how uneasy she’s feeling. She’s smiling at all the right times, trying to help, and damn if I didn’t get a semi watching her put her tent together on her own. There’s still a Colorado gal deep inside her.
Her fingers tremble for half a second when she’s unrolling her sleeping bag. She flinches when a branch snaps behind her. Every time someone laughs too loud, her head jerks like it’s bracing for impact. She’s not okay, not completely. But she’s here, and that means something to me.
I want to go to her—say something easy, offer her a cup of cider, anything to make her smile. Instead, I keep my hands busy, tightening a line here, checking a lantern there. When I finally look up, she’s settled beside Allie, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, eyes on the fire. She doesn’t know I’m watching her, but I am. Godhelp me, I am.
What would it be like to unzip her sleeping bag and pull her into mine. To press her against me, skin to skin, and hear the way she says my name.
I shake my head and adjust my cap.
Not the time.
“What’s with you, Faraday?” Topper smirks as he passes, shouldering a bundle of firewood.
“Just tired,” I lie. “Hey, uh, any particular reason your tent’s way out there like it’s on a solo mission?” We both glance at the pop of red that’s sitting on the absolute edge of the campground.
“It’s a strategic move to distance myself from your snoring.”
“You do realize this is a therapeutic retreat, not your personal bachelor fantasy suite?”
“You say that like healing and romance can’t go hand in hand.”
“Try not to get kicked off the mountain for fraternization,” I say, feeling slightly guilty that I’m razzing my friend when my tent is not in the center, but closest to Roxanne’s.
“Please,” Topper says. “If anything gets me kicked off this mountain, it’ll be because Allie realizes I’d marry her tomorrow if I knew she was up for living la vida loca in Marble Valley, Colorado.”
“Easy, big fella. Not sure she’s the type of lady who is going to leave behind a lucrative career to muck horse stalls, even with someone as great as you, my friend.”
Since this is a dry campout, I crack open a soda from a nearby cooler and hand it to Topper.
Topper takes the Coke and clinks it against mine. “A man can dream.”
“That was fast though, yeah?”
Topper shrugs. “When you know, you know.”
I want to call bullshit, but I’ve actually never heard Topper say this about any other woman. I was going to fire off aninsult when Topper freezes, his eyes locked on Allie, who is still sitting with Roxanne. Garrett swoops in, nuzzles up to Allie, and whispers something in her ear. Judging by Allie’s reactions, she is not thrilled with the conversation. She frowns and scoots closer to Roxanne.
“I don’t like that,” Topper says.
“I don’t either,” I say, heat rising in my chest.
Garrett brushes Allie’s arm, which causes her to pop off the bench. Roxanne is on her feet as well. I’m seconds away from having to physically restrain Topper when Rusty rushes over and whisks Garrett away.
Topper heads over and I’m right on his heels.
“Ugh, I need to take a shower,” Allie says, rubbing her arms.
“What did he say to you?” I insist.
Roxanne whips around, her gaze darting back and forth between Allie and me. “It’s nothing.”
“Are you okay?” Topper doesn’t hesitate to reach for Allie.
“Oh yeah. Honestly, I’ve had a man say much worse things to me.”
“That makes me sad that you brush it off like it’s normal. A man should only be respectful to you at all times,” Topper says. “And if they aren’t, you let me know and I’ll have a word with them.”
The look on Allie’s face could have melted the sun. She’s staring at Topper, biting her lip with her cheeks the brightest shade of pink.
