Page 38 of Tough Luck

Jax was right about one thing—we had a company to run and a lot of family politics to navigate over the next few months.

But first we had this weekend, and I had some ideas about what Sofia and I could do together.

Saturday morning in Golden arrived with that crisp, cool breeze that only the Colorado foothills can deliver in the dead of summer. By eight o’clock, the temperature was already climbing, and the scent of wild pine and dry earth was thick in the air as I parked in the almost empty gravel parking lot that sat at the base of the canyon.

“If we’re going to scout these trailheads for Clear Creek, we need to move before the mid-day heat cooks us,” I said. “Get a move on, Ferreira,” I teased.

I tossed my backpack over my shoulder. I had packed a couple bottles of water, some granola bars, and my first aid kit, which was always stocked at the bottom of the bag.

This morning, Sofia had her long hair pulled back into a high pony that poked through a ball cap. She was wearing sleek athletic leggings and a tank top under her thin jacket. She tossed her own lightweight hiking pack over her shoulder. Seeing her like this—completely stripped of corporate attire—made my chest pull tight. She looked beautiful. Relaxed.

“I’ve been up since six reading the canyon terrain maps, boss man,” she teased with a salute as she tossed on her own pack. “I’m already three steps ahead of you.” She jogged ahead of me while I locked my car.

“Is that a fact?” I grinned, easily catching up with her. I pulled her in, breathing in the clean scent of her shampoo, and kissed her soundly. “We’ll see if you stay ahead of me.” I released her and jogged toward the trailhead while she sprinted to keep up.

We spent the first part of the hike going back and forth between being high-stakes marketing strategists and an everyday hiking couple. We managed to hit three of the major trailheads, physically scouting the exact locations where the eco-friendly geocache boxes and recycling bins would take the place of the current Parks and Rec bins. Partnering with the state was a stroke of genius on Sofia’s part.

Sofia was in her element. She took notes on her phone, checking for cellular signal drop-off spots, and taking through how the physical layout would look when the “Tap-and-Trail” app officially launched. And she still kept up with my pace. She was a machine.

By noon, the mountain sun was blazing and our hiking boots were coated in dust.

“Time for phase two of my planned weekend fun for us,” I said, wiping a bead of sweat from my forehead as we made our way back down to the car. “The water is calling.” I wiggled my eyebrows at her.

We stopped at a sandwich shop and wolfed down cold meat with bread and salad. Fuel for the next leg of our fun-packed day.

We drove back to downtown Golden and parked less than a block from her apartment. Instead of heading there, I took her hand and we made our way down to the water’s edge.

There, we rented a pair of sleek, hard-shelled kayaks at the small place that sat right on the edge of Clear Creek.

The river was fully alive with summer energy. Families and tourists were tubing down the cool water’s gentle stretches or sunbathing on the smooth boulders or sandy areas along the shore as the cold mountain runoff splashed against the banks.

I couldn’t have asked for a better day.

Getting onto the water was like hitting a reset button. We paddled downstream, navigating the brisk, swirling currents, and laughed like kids whenever a rogue splash of chilled mountain water caught us square in the face. Sofia was a natural, digging her paddle into the water with a fierce, competitive drive that had her pulling ahead of me more than once.

“Hey, boss!” she shouted back over the roar of a small rapid. “Try to keep up!”

“You’re in my territory now!” I warned with a laugh.

To be honest, at times I worried she was kicking my ass. She was good, fast, and I was finding it difficult to keep up with her energy. Digging my paddle deep into the water, I finally accelerated past her, spraying a sheet of cool river water in her direction as she gasped and laughed.

By the time we hauled the kayaks out near the downtown riverfront, my shoulders were burning in the best way possible, and the sun had left a warm, golden flush across Sofia’s cheeks.

We changed into dry clothes in the riverside facilities. She had pulled on a sundress while I put on a pair of khakis and a T-shirt. We looked like tourists, not like two people who had grown up just a few miles away from there.

We walked down the bustling pedestrian pathway. The riverfront was packed with patio diners, the smell of wood-fired pizza and craft beer drifting from the open-air restaurants as we headed toward the restaurant where I’d booked us a reservation for dinner. We were seated in a corner table on an elevated deck that sat right over the rushing water.

As the sun started to dip behind the Colorado Rockies, we held hands and sipped cold drinks. It was the perfect end to an amazing day. Sitting outside with a couple of cold beers while sharing a pizza, I bet we looked like the couple on one of Sofia’s marketing ads for Clear Creek.

Sofia leaned back in her chair. Her shoulders dropped, a look of pure, unadulterated contentment on her face as she watched the river rush beneath us.

“Today was perfect,” she murmured, her hazel eyes turning back to meet mine across the small table. “I hadn’t realized how much I needed this.”

“Yeah,” I said, reaching across the table to entwine my fingers with hers, not caring who saw us out here in the summer twilight. “Me too.”

An hour later, we were driving back to my place. The car windows were down and the warm night air rushed over our sunburned skin.

When we stepped inside, Sofia walked over to the windows and leaned her forehead against the cool panes as she looked out into the darkness. I walked up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her back flush against my chest. She let out a soft, happy sigh, her hands coming up to cover mine.