“Got caught in the storm,” Noah grunted. “Had to wait it out in one of the old fishing cabins.”
“Did you now?” Jenn’s eyebrows waggled as she took Biscuit’s reins and helped steady me for dismount. “Must have been cozy.”
“Cozy isn’t the first word that comes to mind,” I said, legs turning to huckleberry jelly the moment they touched solid ground.
Noah dismounted with effortless grace, but everything changed when his boots hit the ground. His face contorted into a grimace that suggested someone had just stabbed him in the lower back with a sharp branch.
“You okay there, mountain man?” Jenn asked, leading Biscuit toward the stable with one hand while keeping me from collapsing with the other.
“Back seized up,” Noah muttered through clenched teeth,stretching with another wince. “Slept on a cabin floor last night.”
I watched him attempt to straighten, each tiny movement clearly sending spasms of pain through his body. The memory of him curled on those rough wooden planks all night, refusing to share the mattress because of one little kiss (okay, one earth-shattering, toe-curling kiss), made something twist in my chest.
“The resort has a full spa,” I said, a lightbulb of inspiration flickering on in my exhausted brain. “I could ask Maya to set up a couple of massage appointments.”
Noah’s head whipped up so fast he probably gave himself whiplash on top of his back spasms. “Hard pass.”
“I bet they have amazing massage therapists.” I pictured hands working on Noah’s knotted muscles, my hands, preferably, and felt a flush creeping up my neck. “Then after the massage, we could get a pedicure.” I pressed, unable to resist poking the bear. “And then a facial.”
“I don’t do spas.” He practically spat the last word.
“But you’ll let your back get so knotted you can barely stand upright?” asked Jenn, giving me a wink.
“Have you ever had a professional massage?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“I’m not letting strangers touch my feet and put goop on my face,” Noah declared with the stubborn determination of someone who would rather chew glass than admit weakness. “I’ll work it out.”
“Come on, tough guy. I did all your things.”
“Mythings?”
“Hiking. Rafting. Climbing … horse trying-to-buck-me-offing.” The word riding didn’t really seem to cover it. “Now you have to try one of mine.”
Noah tried to ignore me by escaping toward the stable, buthis back seized again, and he doubled over in pain. “Goddamn it.”
“One massage,” I pressed. “If you hate it, you can go back to your all-natural regimen of suffering silently while your spine takes on the shape of a fishing hook.”
“She’s got a point,” said Jenn. “If Sam here was brave enough to let you drag her up mountains and into the wilderness during a biblical-level storm, seems only fair you try something from her world.”
I shot Jenn a grateful look. “Exactly. And unlike your activities, I can guarantee no risk of broken bones, drowning, or death by a wildlife encounter. The worst thing that happens at the spa is occasionally they run out of cucumber water. Or cucumber facial cream. Or cucumber sandwiches.”
Noah rubbed his neck, another wince flickering across his face. “I have to tend to the horses.”
“I’ll take care of the horses,” Jenn cut him off. “The resort shuttle will be here any minute with a fresh batch of rafters for Diego’s morning run. Sam can catch a ride back with them while you go clean yourself up. You smell like wet dog and cabin mold.”
We both fixed him with identical stern looks. Noah’s eyes darted between us with the panicked expression of a trapped animal calculating escape routes and finding none. For a moment, it appeared as if he was about to turn and run, but then another wave of pain must have hit him because his face twisted up like a climbing knot. It looked like it took every ounce of will just to stay upright.
“Fine,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “One massage. That’s it.”
“And lunch,” I added, seizing the advantage while he was still vulnerable. “The spa menu mentioned something about arub-and-grub package with fancy little pimento cheese sandwiches and a pasta salad made with couscous and chickpeas.”
The mention of chickpeas appeared to be the final straw. Noah’s eyes rolled so hard I worried they might pop out of his head. “I should have abandoned you in the wilderness,” he grumbled.
“After you get cleaned up, come find me at the resort.” I gave him a critical once-over. “And wear something nice.”
“Define nice.”
“No hiking boots,” Jenn and I said in perfect unison, then exchanged a high-five.
