It’s fine. He almost drowned us, but we survived.
Good to know I’m not texting with the spirit world. It’s okay, though? No detours to the airport?
Give it time.
There’s no way for Wes to know what we’re texting about, but when Tracy’s next message pops up on my screen, I have to fight the urge to throw my phone out the window all the same.
He might surprise you if you give him a chance.
I lock my phone and shove it into my pocket. I don’t need Tracy to tell me that Wes doesn’t entirely match up with the impression I’ve been carrying around. I’ve already realized there’s far more to him than I’ve given him credit for, but he’s also still the guy who almost drove us into five feet of water.
While Wes drives, I keep scanning the maps, searching for a road with higher elevation that might have fared better in the torrential rain. “If you take the right up ahead, we’ll go south for a few miles, but then it connects into another state highway that runs parallel to this one. If we follow that for another ten or so miles, that should get us where we need to be.”
“And away from the crowd because no one wants to go south.” Wes’s frustration melts away far easier than mine. “Let’s go catch ourselves a rainbow.”
Chapter Eight
Wes navigates us around thestorm, and we get lucky a few miles down a mostly dry dirt road. As much as I love rainbows, my attention goes straight to the thick bunches of wild daisies growing on the edge of a farmer’s field.
“Gorgeous.” I stare up at the sky, scanning the area to mentally line up my shots before reaching for my camera and slapping on a polarizer. Thanks to the angle of the sun and the amount of rain in the air, the twin rainbows are the brightest I’ve seen in years. We’re on the backside of the storm, mammatus clouds hanging down as though the sky is slowly boiling high above us. And with the elevation on top of the caprock escarpment, the clouds are so close it feels like I could reach out and touch them.
Though it’s beautiful, I swallow a stab of disappointment. It’s too soft for what I want in terms of the contest. Not thatNature Shotsis the only reason I’m out here, despite it living in my head rent free. I can take a beat to smell the flowers.
Or the scent of rain and mud and the occasional whiff of manure. Same thing, really.
While I beeline for the daisies, Wes sets up in the middle of the road right over the cracked yellow line that leads straight to the rainbows. I’m not sure what story he’s going for other than a how-to-get-run-over guide.
I shove the thought aside to focus on my own work—not that I can actually manage to keep my mind on photography for long.
In the heat of the moment, I regretted letting Wes get behind the wheel, but now that things are calmer, I can be more objective. He enjoys needling me, but when it came down to the actual driving, I’m not sure he did anything different than I would have. Sure, I’d have given up on the whole area earlier, but he was right that the water wasn’t visible until we crested the hill. And he wasn’t driving any faster than the rest of us do out here.
If I ignore the moments in the rain and the small matter of our near drowning, the last forty-eight hours have been kind of nice. Wes is too reckless and it’s going to catch up to him one day in ways far worse than a hefty repair bill, but there’s a kindness to him that I didn’t anticipate.
In all the years I’ve known him, we’ve hovered somewhere between professional colleagues and frenemies. I point out his recklessness. He makes cracks about how much I love to ruin a good time. Rinse and repeat.
He’s never once looked at me the way he did in my kitchen. Or yesterday morning at the hotel.
Then again, he’s never seen me in a semitransparent shirt without a bra either.
The slam of the car door breaks me abruptly out of my wandering thoughts. “Gotta water the ditch,” Wes announces.“Camera is on the back seat. If you decide to strand me here, I’d appreciate it if you at least don’t trash my gear.”
“Your gear is safe.” I roll my eyes. “And thanks for sharing.” Turning my attention back to my camera, I squat down low to get the angle I’m looking for. “If you’re asking for help, the answer is no.”
“Trust me”—footsteps crunch on the gravel shoulder—“there’s nothing in my pants I needhelpwith.” I don’t have to look at him to hear the cocky grin.
My red cheeks explode with heat that has nothing to do with the weather. He’s baiting me again, and I amnotfalling for it.
I’m also not listening for the telltale sound of his zipper parting or the rustling of his clothes or the—
“Fuck!”
I whip around at the shouted curse, my mind already frantically rummaging through the first aid kit. Did I pack anything to deal with snake bites? Then reality cuts through my panic.
The only thing that’s attacked Wes is…mud. A great deal of mud. The roadside ditches out here that collect runoff are both steep and several feet deep. With the recent rain, there’s about a foot of water—and who knows what else—sitting at the bottom. Wes’s entire left side is covered like he’s a human pretzel stick that’s been dipped in the world’s grossest chocolate.
Laughter explodes out of me only to quickly transform into full-fledged cackles. “You fell in,” I wheeze, clutching my ribs as a mud-streaked muscle twitches in his jaw. “Oh my god, you reallydidneed help.”
Still giggling, I lift my camera and press the shutter release, Wes’s incredulous expression now committed to the memory card.
