“Can’t put on new clothes if you’re still wearing the old ones.”
I glanced around the wide-open space as Noah started pulling things from shelves. “Is there a changing room then?”
Noah’s laugh echoed off the high ceiling. “This isn’t Barney’s, princess.”
“What would you know about Barney’s anyway?”
Noah shrugged. “My parents took Brie and I to New York City once when we were kids.”
“And you went shopping at Barney’s? You realized it had nothing to do with the purple dinosaur, right?”
Something smile-like crept over Noah’s face. “Our mom saw a dress she liked in a window display. Probably cost almost as much as that getup you’re wearing. More than our dad made in a month.” He set the stack of clothes he picked out on the counter. “Let me guess, you shop at Barney’s all the time.”
“Actually, Barney’s went bankrupt. They don’t even exist anymore.”
“Oh, no?” Noah stopped in his tracks. For some strange reason, the tough guy mountain man seemed almost disappointed. “What happened to it?”
“Trends change. Tastes change. That’s why people like me are employed. Somebody’s got to try to keep up with it all.”
Noah stuffed the clothes in my arms. “Anyway, this is a working gear shop, not Michigan Avenue. No fancy fitting rooms.”
“Then where exactly am I supposed to change?”
“Behind the rain jackets works for most people.” He gestured to a corner of the shop. “Unless you’d prefer to stripright here in the middle?” The teasing glint in his eye made my stomach do a little flip.
Hidden behind the rack of rain jackets, I peeled off my designer mountain leisure wear and pulled on the sturdy hiking pants Noah had picked out for me. They were surprisingly comfortable, if not exactly Instagram-worthy.
“So you went to New York as a kid?” I called out, trying to break the awkwardness of being half naked with nothing but a rack of weather wear to protect me. “What else did you do there besides shopping at Barneys?”
“Tourist stuff.”
I tugged the moisture-wicking shirt over my head. It felt soft against my skin. “Your parents sound nice. Taking you and your sister all the way to New York just to see the sights.”
“Yeah.” His voice got quiet.
“You ever go back? To New York, I mean?
“That was the first and last time I left Colorado.”
I peeked around the rack. Noah stood with his back to me, organizing gear on a shelf, never looking over his shoulder.
“Don’t you like to travel?”
“My whole life is here. Got no reason to go anywhere else.”
A picture on the wall behind me caught my eye. In it, a boy and his younger sister stood in front of a cliff face with their parents, decked out in climbing gear. The boy looked like a smaller, younger version of Noah.
I stepped out from behind the raincoats. Cleared my throat so Noah could turn around and inspect me.
He nodded at my feet. “Double knot them. Last thing we need is you tripping on the trail because you don’t know how to tie shoes properly.” And just like that, Grumpy Noah was back, his mountain man wall as high and as thick as ever.
“I know how to tie shoes, you know.”
“If you say so.”
The headlights carved through the darkness, illuminating scraggly pine trees and massive boulders. The Jeep bounced over another rut in the dirt road; the pre-dawn darkness made every bump feel like a potential cliff edge. I had to grab the door handle to keep from smacking my head against the roll bar.
“You could slow down a little,” I said through gritted teeth.
