“Hey, babe,” Brock said as he swept Brianna up into his arms for a thorough kissing. Good Lord, the man could kiss—his tongue tempted her lips to part and she happily gave in to him. She had no idea how long they stood there before she remembered why they were on the bridge in the first place.
“Okay, big guy, we really need to get going,” she said after she reluctantly broke the kiss.
“How far away is this place?” he asked as they started across, his arm around her.
“Not far at all distance-wise, but it’s tricky. Hope you don’t mind getting a little dirty.” She clapped her hand over her mouth and started laughing. “That sounded—”
“That sounded great, perfect. Can’t wait.” He tickled her waist and she laughed harder.
Once they got across the bridge, they turned right and continued downriver. The cliff face grew less severe until it was a shrub-and-grass-covered steep hill. Brianna watched for the break in the undergrowth, hoping it was still there. And yes, it was, just as she remembered. It wasn’t as well-trodden as it had been, but was definitely still a trail, probably made by elks on their way to and from the river.
“Off the beaten path,” Brock said as he pushed a branch aside for her to pass.
“Told you it was tricky, but we haven’t even gotten to the trickiest part.” They climbed up the slope to where it crested, then partway down the other side. It was lighter on this side since it faced west and the late sunlight lingered. The trail narrowed as it paralleled the St. Vrain on the other side of the hill and led them back upstream. Now they were behind the cliff face and couldn’t hear the river at all. The sound of crickets took over. Brianna listened closely. There—faint but distinct—the sound of rushing water again.
“We’re close,” she said. She readjusted her backpack and took Brock’s hand. She scanned the side of the hill, which now rose almost as sharply to the left as the cliff did. The bushes had grown up even more since she’d been there last, but she could always rely on her ears. Brianna left the path with Brock in tow and dropped his hand. It was too steep to climb without handholds.
“You sure about this?” Brock asked from behind her.
“Positive. We’re taking the shortcut, which is tricky like I said, but I promise it’s really cool.”
“I trust you, Bri.”
God, music to her ears.
“Wait, I hear something,” he added. “Water?”
“Yup. Just wait.”
“Are we going into a cave?” He sounded as excited as a little boy.
“Aw, you’re gonna spoil it,” she teased. “You aren’t claustrophobic, are you?”
“Never have been.”
“Good. Because here we are.” And damn, if the entrance wasn’t smaller than she remembered. Of course,she’dbeen a lot smaller when she and Brian used it regularly. “I hope you fit.”
A chokecherry bush blocked the entrance from view. They slipped around it and ducked into the four-foot-high opening, Brianna in the lead with her flashlight on. “Don’t worry, it widens out inside,” she reassured Brock.
“Good, because I can barely get my shoulders through.”
Once inside, ambient light supplemented their flashlights. They were in a pocket in the cliff, probably carved out by rain runoff. The light came from several small holes in the walls, put to use by ravens whose nests sat in crevices ten feet over their heads. The sound of the river came through clearly.
“Damn.” Brock looked all around. “It looks like a cathedral.”
“Cool, huh?”
He nodded. “Perfect, actually.”
“I haven’t even shown you the best parts.” She took his hand and led him off to the right.
“How high up are we?”
“You’ll see.”
The ambient light got brighter up ahead. “When you said cave and I saw the entrance and heard the water, I expected some nasty, dirty, wet hole.”
Brianna laughed. “Oh no, this one was quite comfortable—when my brother and I were smaller. Watch your head.” The passage she took had a low-hanging ceiling, about six feet high at most, and Brock walked through crouching a little. “It opens up again so don’t worry.”
