Ask me again after the hike, she'd said.
She already knew what her answer would be.
"Yeah," she said, climbing in. "I'm ready."
FOURTEEN
The weatherat Eldorado Canyon was perfect for a hike. The Colorado sky arched overhead in a flawless blue dome. The sky was streaked with fair-weather cumulus—white and soft as fleece, drifting lazy and harmless. Those were fair-weather clouds, but Shane knew how fast they could build into something dangerous. Give them time and heat, and they'd muscle up into thunderheads before the day was done.
He sniffed the air out of habit. The breeze carried the clean scent of snowmelt and pine sap, the promise of the coming summer sharpening everything it touched.
“Whatcha looking at, Shane?” Kevin asked, eternally curious.
“I’m checking the weather using the clouds. See those puffy ones with flat bottoms?” Shane said, pointing skyward. “Cumulus. Fair weather—for now. If they start piling high like towers, that’s when you keep your rain gear close.”
“Do you think that’s going to happen soon?” April asked. She crossed her arms and gripped her elbows.
Shane shaded his eyes, studying the horizon the way some men read faces. The breeze moved steady from the west, dry and cool against his skin, carrying no hint of moisture.
“No haze, no humidity,” he said. “We’re good. Those clouds will stay well-behaved until tonight and we’ll be gone well before then.”
April’s shoulders eased. “So we won’t get caught in a storm?”
“Not if we’re back out by four. It’s still making its way over the mountains. We may hear some thunder though.” He glanced back at her, mouth curving. “But I always pack for a storm anyway. Weather in these mountains can turn faster than gossip about my mother.” He winked at April.
That earned him a small laugh—the kind he’d missed for years. The sound warmed his chest like sunlight.
Kevin ran ahead with Pete on the retractable leash, giving Shane a chance to just be with April. The look on her face made his chest tighten—something between curiosity and trust, like she was remembering who he used to be and measuring it against who he'd become.
"What?" he asked, mouth quirking.
"Nothing." But she didn't look away. "I just never realized you knew so much. About everything."
"Not everything." He stepped closer, lowering his voice so Kevin wouldn't hear. "Still figuring out some things."
Her cheeks flushed pink, and Shane knew she was thinking about last night. About that kiss on the porch, about waking up to find his note, about the question he'd promised to ask again.
"Like what?" she asked, barely above a whisper.
Like how to convince you I'm not going anywhere. Like how to be what Kevin needs. Like how to love you the way you deserve.
"Like whether you still dipeverythingin ranch dressing," he said instead, keeping it light even though his pulse was hammering. "Or if that was just a phase."
April laughed so hard she bent over. There it was—that real laugh he'd been chasing since he walked back into her life.
"Still do. Some things never change."
"Good to know." Shane held her gaze a beat longer than necessary. "Some things shouldn't."
Kevin raced back, breaking the moment. "Are we going or what? Pete's ready!"
April turned away first, but not before Shane caught the small smile playing at her lips.
They followedthe trail into the canyon, the sandstone walls rising sheer on either side, streaked with gold and rust. South Boulder Creek ran beside them, swollen with snowmelt, tumbling over boulders the size of cars. Pete trotted as far ahead as his retractable leash would allow, nose down, tail wagging like a metronome.
Kevin darted from one side of the path to the other, stopping to pick up smooth stones. “Can we skip these later?”
“Absolutely,” Shane said. “But first, a lesson.” He stopped and crouched beside the creek. “See how it’s clear here, but down there it’s a little murky?” Shane pointed to where the current curled around a bend. “That’s the outflow. Water warms as it slows, picks up silt. The cold, clean stuff’s the inflow.”
