So why did you stop with your own dreams?
The thought came out of nowhere, popping into his head full-blown. And damned if it didn’t sound like something his father would’ve said, like his subconscious was suddenly playing his old man’s part. It was the wrong question, though—he wasn’t worried about the future right now. He was chewing on what Wyatt had gotten him to admit earlier, about how he would give anything to keep Danny safe, even his life. So why couldn’t he wrap his head around taking a chance with her? Why did the very thought of it make him want to get back on the bike and ride hard and fast, until he was hundreds of miles away?
How is your faith?
It was something his father used to say when they were out hunting for stones, not so much asking where Sam stood with God, but more with himself. Was he in the zone? Was he trusting his instincts? And the answer was usually yes. Now, though, he wasn’t so sure. Because if he trusted himself, he’d be able to imagine how he wanted things to look going forward. Faith. Dreams. Taking a leap over the edge. Those were all things his old man used to talk about. All things Sam had blocked out because the grief had been too raw, the guilt too huge. But his father had also talked about forgiveness, and about how that was part of what made a man.
Forgive us.
“There’s nothing to forgive.” He said it aloud without thinking, like it was an actual conversation. Like his father’s ghost was really there.
Forgive us. It rang in his head, not letting go.
“What are you talking about? Who’s us, you and Mom? Should I forgive you for dying? That’s ridiculous. You didn’t do it on purpose.”
Neither did you.
“I . . .” Sam’s breath whistled out and he found himself leaning up against all that chain link, looking down. “Oh, hell.” And suddenly, like lightning striking up in the high country, he got it. Adrenaline seared through him as he damn well got it.
For a minute he just stood there while the world spun around him, coming back into focus in a way it hadn’t ever before, as if he’d held a faceted gem up to the sunlight and turned it a few degrees to create a pattern that he’d never seen but had been there all along. Then, stirring, he pulled out his phone and punched in Axyl’s number.
“Hey,” the old prospector answered. “What’s up?”
“I need a favor.”
“Name it.”
Grinning as his pulse picked up, sending the blood racing through his veins like a Harley hugging high-speed turns, Sam said, “Get a group of bikes and riders together, the louder the better. I need to make a grand gesture.” And he hoped to hell he wasn’t already too late.
23
“Is there a bride-to-be in the house?” The furry brown animatronic buffalo head on the wall of the small private dining room flapped its long eyelashes and scanned the table of laughing pink-hatted women. “Where are you, darlin’?”
“Here!” Krista waved a buttered roll. “I’m here!”
Tucked into a back room of the casual-fun restaurant—where the stuffed fish sang three-part harmony and the fake deer, elk, and bear heads hassled the diners in the main room—the bachelorette party was in full swing after a very successful kidnapping and a quick stop at the B and B suite for champagne and clean clothes.
Sitting halfway down the table, with Ashley on one side of her and Shelby across the way, Danny clapped along with the rest of them as the shaggy brown head zeroed in on Krista’s chair. Festooned with a rainbow of helium-filled balloons, it had been the focus of the bachelorette games that had been concocted by Jenny, Shelby, and their waitress, Mariella, who was also the head wrangler of talking taxidermy at the Steak Shack.
“Well, there, little lady,” the buffalo intoned in a mellow, masculine voice, “what do you and these other fillies say to a game of I Never?”
Krista raised her arms over her head and hollered, “Bring it on, Buffalo! Woo!” Bright, beautiful, and flushed with fun, she slung an arm around Jenny’s neck as the others joined in with a cheer. Then, raising her Bachelorette Breeze—a fruity, frothy drink that was decorated with tiny spurs and a miniature pink cowboy hat, virgin for the nursing mom but rum-laced for most of the rest of them—she announced, “I’ve never done the so-called walk of shame!”
Then, grinning, she held up her index finger and drank deeply. As did most of the fifteen pink-hatted women at the table, including Shelby and Ashley.
Danny leaned in and whispered to Ash, “Clue me in?”
“We go around the circle and each make a statement like that. If the I’ve never part is true, you sit there and look innocent. If it’s a lie, you hold up a finger and drink. The first person to ten fingers loses. Or wins, depending on your definition.” She wiggled an eyebrow in Danny’s direction. “No walk of shame for you? What, you didn’t go to college?”
“I did, but we mostly played quarters and darts.”
“Ah. You hung out with the boys.”
“I guess maybe I did.” That and girls whose idea of gossip was talking trash about their latest race time and bragging on their new bikes or whatever. Now, though, she was grateful for the silliness, which was helping keep her mind off Sam.
Sort of.
Jenny stood, raised her glass, and said, “I never cheated on a test or a boyfriend.”
There was an awkward shuffle, and a few of the girls held up a second finger and drank.
They went around the table—I never sang karaoke, I never served my family something the cat licked, I never kissed two or more guys in the same day—while Mariella and two other waitresses whisked away the plates from their shared appetizers, delivered their entrées, and freshened the drink pitchers in the middle of the table. By the time the game got to Danny, most of the easy ones were gone and her head was spinning from the rum.
That was the only reason she stumbled over the “I never . . .” and then blurted, “let a guy break my heart.”
Then, to her horror, her eyes filled and her throat locked down. Damn, damn, damn. She should have said she’d never eaten sushi or lost her bikini top while bodysurfing, then sucked down half her drink. She shouldn’t have brought up the guy thing when it was guaranteed to make her think of The Guy.
Except Sam wasn’t that guy. At least not for her.
Ashley nudged her. “Bottoms up, babe.”
Flushing, Danny sniffed back the tears and reached for the tall glass. She had sucked down half of it before she realized someone had refilled it. Then, deciding it couldn’t hurt, she finished the rest.
When she plonked the empty glass down, she looked up at the others. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin—”
“Don’t say it.” Krista was around the table before she could get the words out, pulling her into a big hug. “Don’t even think it. Sam’s an idiot, you’re a rock star, and in case you missed it there’s not a full glass left on the table.”
“But—”
“No buts.” Shelby put her arms around them both. “We love you. And don’t think for a second we’re letting you sneak off, thinking you’re doing Krista a favor. We’ll hunt you down and drag you back to the party, whether you like it or not.”
Since that was exactly what Danny had just been thinking, she could only sniffle in her friends’ embrace.
“Ladies!” Bootsy—resplendent in a tight, glittery blue dress and silver boots—stood up and raised her refilled glass as Ashley and one of the other girls hurried to top up all the drinks. “I’d like to propose a toast.” She paused, and when she had their attention, she intoned, “To kissing frogs, playing the field, and falling for Mr. Wrong on the way to getting it right—whatever that turns out to be for each and every one of us.”
Danny wasn’t sure any of that applied to her and Sam—he wasn’t a frog or the wrong guy, and she wasn’t interested in playing the field—but she was grateful to the other woman for taking center stag
e. So she joined in with the “Hear, hear!” and took a shallow sip from her replenished glass.
Krista looped an arm around her neck and added, “Girl power!”
The resulting cheer shook the windows.
As it died down, Mariella stepped into the doorway. “Excuse me. Jenny? Can I have a word?”
The party resumed as they stepped outside for a quick consult, with Ashley claiming, “I never broke up with a guy by text.”
The girl on Danny’s other side gave an exaggerated, “Phew!” and said, “I really never have, thank goodness. I don’t need any more of a buzz this early!”
Nodding, Danny reached for her water and took a long drink, hoping to lose the prickle of tears but keep the glow of knowing that her friends wanted her there, whether she was at her best or not.
“Danny?” Jenny said from the doorway. “There’s someone out front asking for you.”
“Who is it?”
“Just come on. Don’t worry. It’s nothing bad.”
Hesitating, Danny glanced over at Krista. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to keep interrupting your day.”
“Girlfriend, you’re not interrupting anything. You’re part of the whole.”
It was really that simple, Danny realized. And, feeling her smile turn real for the first time in days, she paused by the balloon-decorated chair and kissed Krista’s cheek. “You’re the best.”
“Back atcha!” Krista squeezed her hand, then said in mock warning, “And you’d better get back in here pronto, you hear? Or we’re coming after you.”
“Aye aye.” Danny sketched a salute, then followed the waitress out through the main restaurant, where most of the tables were occupied and the trout trio was singing “Home on the Range” in high-pitched warbles that carried over a rumbling noise coming from outside. And, oddly, a whole lot of the diners and waitstaff were gathered at the front windows.
“This way,” Mariella said over her shoulder. “He’s waiting out front for you. And he brought company.”
“He . . . company?” Her throat closed on the word as she got it—or thought she did. Though that was probably beyond wishful thinking. Because what were the chances? Even if Sam came for her, which he wouldn’t, he’d never do it in public, and not in a million years would he do it with a whole lot of . . .
“Bikers!” Mariella swung the door open. “Look!”
Sure enough, the parking lot was jammed with several dozen black-and-chrome monsters straddled by denim-and-leather-wearing bikers, mostly men, older and with a whole lot of beards going on. Except for the guy in front, who stood at the bottom of the restaurant stairs. Wearing jeans, boots, and an unfamiliar leather jacket over a familiar ROCKHOUNDS DO IT IN THE DIRT T-shirt, he stood with his hands clasped behind him, handsome and very, very guarded.
Sam. She must have said it aloud, because she heard her own voice, saw a flash in his eyes that might have been determination.
“Danny.” He held out a hand, inviting her down the stairs.
Feeling like the Three Ridges version of Juliet on her balcony, with a Wyoming Romeo and their problems personal ones rather than a family feud, she linked her fingers in front of her to keep her hands from shaking, and held on to the high ground. “You’re interrupting Krista’s bachelorette party.”
“I know.” His eyes went beyond her. “Sorry about that.”
Danny didn’t look. She knew that Krista and the others had come out behind her, while the diners and staff watched through the windows.
“I’ll forgive you,” Krista said, “but only if you get it right this time. Danny deserves the fairy tale, dang it. Don’t disappoint me.”
“I know. I won’t. I hope.” He came up a step, his eyes locking on Danny. “I’m sorry I let you down, and I’m sorry I hurt you. But you were right when you said it wasn’t about the two of us, and it wasn’t about me wanting to play bachelor forever. You never asked me to stop playing or grow up. You just asked me to make you some promises that you have every right to. But to do that, I had to fix some things first.” He stepped aside and gestured to the crowd. “I want to make those promises to you, Danny. I want to fix what needs fixing.”
Axyl and a couple of the other bikers rolled their motorcycles back, parting the mob to reveal a riderless bike propped up on its stand. Black, low-slung, and futuristic, it wore a layer of scrapes along one side, showing where it had skidded and fallen.
Hand going to her mouth, Danny drew in a soft breath. “You did it. You fixed your father’s bike.”
He nodded, eyes intent on hers. “I did. It gave me some time to think, and figure things out. And I realized that you were right. Partly, I was pushing you away because I was trying to protect myself from losing you down the road. More, though, it had to do with luck and hard work.”
“I’m not sure I follow.” She wasn’t even sure her feet were still on the ground.
“All through my life, the good things that have happened to me have been lucky breaks, lightning-striking kinds of things. But the stuff I’ve worked hardest at hasn’t gone so well. I busted my ass for a baseball scholarship, got scouted, and blew up my shoulder. I nearly killed myself in college to pull average grades, and couldn’t find a good job after. So I lost faith in myself, and I stopped believing in dreams. Which meant I stopped believing that I could work at something important—like a relationship—and have it succeed.” He came up another step, so he was just one below where she was standing. “But where you were right about most of what you said to me yesterday, you were wrong about one thing.”
Danny’s breath thinned as she realized this was it—he got it, he meant it, he had come for her, and oh, holy cripes, this was really happening—she whispered, “What’s that?”
“You said there aren’t any guarantees in life except that it’s going to end sooner or later. I’ve got three more for you: I guarantee that I love you as much as a man can love, that I’m going to learn how to dream again, and that I’ll do everything in my power to prove that to you on a daily basis, for as long as you can stand me.”
Tears prickled as her heart turned over in her chest. “That long?”
He came up that last step, so they were face-to-face when he said, soft and low, and meant just for the two of them, “Forever, if you’ll let me.”
It wasn’t a proposal, she knew—that would come later. This was a promise. And it was exactly the one she needed. A future. An opportunity. A beautiful horizon that would require a long and wonderful journey to get there.
Drawing a shaky breath, she said, “I almost can’t believe you’re here. And that you said it.”
“Said what? That I love you?” He tipped back his head and hollered, “I love you, Danny Traveler!” Then, as the bikers, bachelorette partygoers, diners, and restaurant staff all whooped and cheered, he pressed his forehead to hers and whispered, “I love you so much. Let me prove it to you.”
“You’ve already proven it,” she said at the same soft volume. “You’re here. You came for me.”
“Always,” he said with the force of a vow. “I’ll always come for you, from now on. Because I love you.”
“And I love you.” She said it softly, testing the words and feeling the lovely ache they left behind, the building stir of excitement as the rest of her caught up with the fact that this was really happening. Sam Babcock really loved her.
Better yet, he was ready to admit it. Ready to own it and work for it.
Looking beyond him to the grinning bikers, then back to where Krista, Jenny, and Shelby had their arms linked and huge smiles on their faces, she said, “You know, I’ve never been in love.”
In synchrony, the partiers hooted and shouted, “Drink!”
Catching on immediately—no doubt the veteran of many a drinking game—Sam grinned. “Playing games, are we, ladies?”
“You betcha,” Krista hollered
back. “Haven’t you heard? We’re having a bachelorette party here, and you’re interrupting!”
“Well, then. We’ll just be on our way.” He caught Danny’s hand and tugged her down a step.
“Hey!” Shelby exclaimed. “Give her back!”
“We’re just borrowing her for an hour. She’ll meet you at the Rope Burn.” To Danny, he said, “Is that okay? There’s something I really want to show you.”
“Go with him, girl,” Bootsy called. “But you know we’re going to want to hear everything when you get back. And I mean everything.” The others hollered and clapped agreement. And then, when Danny went up on her tiptoes to kiss him, the applause turned to a chorus of “Awwwww.”
Drawing away, she grinned up at him. “Do you have a spare helmet?” When he nodded, she kissed his cheek. “Then let’s ride, cowboy!”
* * *
When they reached a set of wrought-iron gates off in the middle of nowhere, well beyond the suburbs of Three Ridges, where age-stained headstones were scattered on the hillside like flowers after a spring rain, Sam eased up on the throttle and pulled over. With Danny pressed up behind him, her hands linked around his waist and the memory of her happy, excited laughter as he had gunned the V-Rod up into the foothills, he knew he could do this. Knew it was time.
Past time, really. But his parents would understand.
Axyl revved his engine and raised a hand in salute as he rolled past, and the others followed suit, forming an honor guard of black-and-chrome, returning him to the Prospect Hill Cemetery for the first time since he buried his father beside his mother, on a hillside overlooking the great wide-open.
As the last of the grizzled bikers passed them, shooting him a thumbs-up instead of a salute, he propped the bike and swung off, then turned back to Danny. “So,” he said. “Here we are.”
Firelight at Mustang Ridge Page 27
