“Would you tell me if I did?”
His smile was quick. “Painted Canyon was aptly named, huh?”
I rolled my eyes so he could see, and his grin only widened.
“Is it like a geologist’s dream?” he asked.
I was touched that he kept thinking of my career and asking questions. “Doesn’t everyone want to distinguish between siltstone and sandstone?”
“If they don’t, they should.”
“Hard agree.” I veered off the trail, stepping carefully closer to the water’s edge. “There’s a little curve here, and the water level is down from earlier this year.” I crouched at the edges where it was still a little gritty. There was a gentle slope, and then a portion of the bank had been cut out by the river’s flow.
Van crouched next to me. “Is this another spot?”
“Possibly.” I’d found some petrified wood earlier. Van’s mind was blown that they weren’t rocks. Well, they were now, but they hadn’t always been. Though if we were to use the Wayback Machine, most had started as something else.
A tiny knob stuck out of the ground, and something about it called to me. I scraped the cold, wet dirt around it with my finger. More rock was exposed. I widened my attempt. “Ooh, this is just the tip of the iceberg.”
Gently, I moved enough damp sand aside, and my anticipation grew. I found a nearby twig instead of digging into my tool kit. Why use a small pry bar when my finger would work? I was on the hunt for small treasures found in nature. I didn’t want to disrupt nature to do it. My normal job did enough of that, and it was also my job to mitigate the damage. With my hobby, I liked the challenge of finding what was right in front of me.
“Is that it?” Van had been patiently waiting. Now he was leaning over so far he might tip into the wet dirt.
“I think so.” I brushed as much sand off it as I could. It got splattered with rain, and I used the moisture to wipe off the surface. “Yes—there.” I traced a faint, dark line. “There’s pitting, and this here is banding. I bet if we polished this up, it would turn a rich brown.”
Holding it up, I inspected the more translucent areas. Satisfaction seeped into me like the light rain soaked into the ground.
“You’re killing me, Clover. Agate or not?”
Chuckling, I handed it over. “We found an agate.”
“Nice.” He turned it several different directions, a faint smile on his face. “That’s cool.”
The shrewd but astounded way he looked at what others would see was a rock sent me tumbling right over the edge. He was enthused about the petrified wood, and he’d gotten new hiking boots.
I was never going to find another guy like him, and I didn’t want to. But because I’d settled for someone in the first place, I’d ruined my chances with him.
He’d make someone a good partner someday. Whoever had broken up with him and tanked the company they were building together was likely an awful person. Now it was clear she was an idiot.
He lowered his arm, and our gazes collided. The depth of emotion staring back at me robbed words from my brain. The air sizzled between us so strongly that steam should’ve formed.
“I like your hobby, sweet Clover.” He handed the stone back to me.
“Thank you.” I carefully tucked it back into the dirt. “I’m not a lawbreaker, though.”
“No taking stuff from state parks.” He reiterated an instruction I had discussed with him on the way here.
“I’m not sure if we’re technically in a state park, but I just like finding them.” I rose and stretched my back. “I’ll admire someone else’s work cleaning them.”
“I like that plan.”
“Good. On the way back, you can teach me everything Pokémon.”
“You’re going to regret asking about it.”
“Doubt that.”
“It’s going to sound like I’m speaking a different language when I really get going.”
