“Take the service road,” Maya said. “It’s faster than the main drive, and Victoria won’t see you leave.”
“But you’ll get in trouble …”
“Some things are worth getting in trouble for.” She gave me a gentle push toward the back entrance. “Now go. Tell that stubborn mountain man how you really feel before he disappears into the wilderness for good.”
“What if he doesn’t want to hear it? What if I’m too late?”
“Sam.” Maya planted her hands on my shoulders, looking me straight in the eyes. “I’ve known Noah Barrett for a long time. Trust me when I say that man has never looked at anyone the way he looks at you.”
Something warm bloomed in my chest, pushing back against the icy dread that had settled there in the conference room. “I’m going to find him. And then I’m going to tell him ...” I paused, searching for the right words. “Tell him everything.”
With one last grateful look at Maya, I turned and headed for the service entrance, keys clutched in hand. If there was one thing Colorado had taught me, it was that real adventure, the kind worth having, never followed a perfectly curated path.
As I rushed through the back doors of the LuxeLife Resort service exit, I nearly collided with the same bellhop who’d witnessed my mud-splattered arrival earlier. He must have been used to my usual state of dishevelment, because he didn’t even blink. He leaned against a wall, smoking a cigarette.
“Miss Li.” He smiled. “You’re still alive.”
“More than ever,” I answered. “Where are the four-wheelers?”
He pointed toward a row of gleaming black vehicles parked under a cedar awning. “But we don’t allow guests to…” He stopped himself mid-sentence. Probably saw the fire in my eyes and decided he didn’t want to tangle with the kind of person who’d survived whatever I’d been through. He took another long, slow drag on his cigarette. “The one at the end got some modifications.”
“What does that mean, exactly?”
The bellhop smiled. “Means you might want to wear a helmet.”
The four-wheel-drive golf cart launched airborne as I crested the top of a small hill, then bounced back down the dirt and gravel road toward the Adventure Center. I jammed down on the accelerator, the electric motor whining in protest.
The vehicle handled with all the control and stability of a shopping cart with a wobbly wheel in the slick gravel. Yanking the steering wheel back and forth, I bounced over a series of ruts, each jolt sending shocks through my wilderness-battered body. But physical discomfort was nothing compared to the ache in my chest, the desperate need to fix what I’d broken.
Whipping around the turn from the service road to the main road, the golf cart tipped sideways onto two wheels,Dukes of Hazardstyle. I threw my weight in the opposite direction and the vehicle rebalanced, all four wheels making solid contact with the ground. It should have been a warning sign to slow down.
I stomped down on the accelerator even harder. Pine trees flashed past in a blur of green as I pushed the vehicle to its battery-powered limits.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I said to myself, slamming my palm against the steering wheel. “I’m an idiot,” I announced to a particularly judgmental-looking boulder as I swerved around it. “A complete and total idiot.”
The cart bounced over another pothole, sending me airborne again for another heart-stopping moment before I crashed back down onto the seat. Luckily my butt was numb, already tenderized by a day and a half of saddle torture.
“Please let him be there,” I whispered to the universe, to the mountains, to whatever forest spirits might be spying on me, plotting their next catastrophe. “Please let me fix this.”
I glanced one last time in the rearview mirror. Behind me, the resort receded into the distance, the infinity pools, the spa treatments, the perfectly curated luxury that had once seemed so important. Ahead lay something far less certain but infinitely more valuable.
If I was lucky, a second chance with the grumpiest, most authentic man I’d ever met.
The golf cart rattled down the mountain path, tires spitting gravel as I took each curve like I was a stunt double inFast and Furious: Colorado Drift. The trail narrowed as it descended toward the lodge’s outer grounds.
Aspen trees blurred past, their white trunks a strobe effect in my peripheral vision, the afternoon sun filtering through leafy branches in dappled patterns across the dirt road. The cart’s tires skidded on loose gravel as I took another turn, the back end fishtailing dangerously close to a steep drop-off.
My mind raced faster than the golf cart, replaying every moment. “What if I’m too late?” The thought sent a chill through me despite the sweat beading over multiple parts of my body. What if he’d already disappeared into the wilderness, swearing off civilization forever, leaving nothing but mountain and memory between us? What if …
A blur of motion snapped me back to reality. There in the middle of the path stood a plump, mottled bird, strutting back and forth, bouncing rhythmically. Its feathers formed a ridiculousmohawk-like crown, and its expression could only be described as aggressively observant.
The disco chicken.
Time slowed as my brain attempted to process the absurdity before me. The very creature I’d encountered on my first night, performing its bizarre mating dance in the darkness.
“MOVE!” I screamed, twisting the wheel hard to the right. The creature stood its ground, wings spreading in what appeared to be a territorial display, completely unmoved by the impending collision with two hundred pounds of pimped-out golf cart and one slow-reacting driver.
The cart lurched sideways, tires losing their grip on the gravel path. I skidded, the world tilting at an impossible angle as the vehicle left the trail entirely. Pine branches slapped against the windshield, needles raining down as I careened between tree trunks.
