Hunter rolls his eyes and wanders into the dining room, politely asking my mother if he may have the WiFi password. Apparently, he does have manners hidden under that grouchy exterior.
Meanwhile, I gape at McKenna, nodding politely, baffled by the amount of information pouring from the girl’s mouth. She’s like a canine encyclopedia—she even cites her sources as she goes. Landon stands behind her, his grin growing as she goes on and on and on.
Finally, he sets his hand on her head affectionately. “That’s probably enough, Kenna Bear.”
McKenna deflates, and her shoulders droop.
“That was very interesting,” I assure her. “It sounds like you know a lot about dogs. Candy’s lucky to have you.”
McKenna’s big smile returns, and she scratches behind Candy’s ear, making the cotton ball’s leg twitch.
“Except when you feed her Skittles and she pukes in the car,” Hunter calls to his sister from the table. Never mind about the manners.
Mrs. Tillman hushes him, looking horrified.
McKenna flashes a snotty look at her brother and wanders away, taking Candy out the front door for a short jaunt around the house…and suddenly I’m alone with Landon.
I glance in the dining room. “Where’s the big one?”
“George?”
“George?” I repeat, incredulous.
Landon grins. “The Saint Bernard?”
I nod, wondering if he’s going to come barreling from the dining room, just like Candy did.
“We left him in the camper,” Landon answers. “We coaxed him out a couple times today, and that’s about his limit. He’s not what you would call a ‘nature dog.’”
“Aren’t all dogs ‘nature dogs?’”
Landon gives me a sage nod. “All dogs except George.”
I hear the kitchen door swing open, and Mark calls, “Let’s eat.”
Landon hollers at McKenna to come back inside, and we amble into the kitchen. I try to pretend all this is natural, that we have campers over all the time, but that’s not entirely true. My mom and Mrs. Tillman must have really hit it off.
Along with Mark’s steaks and signature grilled corn, there’s a huge salad, a plate piled high with Texas toast, and a fabulous-looking lemon pound cake. To pull all this together, they must have planned this early, probably right after I left with Paige.
The food’s set up on the counter, buffet style, and I fall into line after McKenna. Landon’s behind me, and I try not to think of how close he is, how normal this seems when it’s so not normal.
“Where’s your camera?” I ask Landon as I grab a plate and silverware, feigning nonchalance.
“Dead, sadly. I left it at the camper to charge. But I’m not totally lost without it.” He slides his hand into his back pocket and pulls out his phone. He moves next to me, putting us both in the frame for a selfie with the food in the background. “Smile.”
He takes me so by surprise, he ends up capturing me laughing in the photo.
“Care if I share it?” he asks as he taps another app.
“Um, sure.”
He wants to share a picture of us? Together? With his friends?
Trying not to overthink it, I focus on filling my plate. The salad looks amazing. It’s not my mom’s usual concoction, and it’s not her bowl. Mrs. Tillman must have brought it.
Trying not to dwell on Landon’s arm as it occasionally bumps mine, I listen to the conversations around us. Mark and Mr. Tillman talk about fishing while Mom and Mrs. Tillman discuss a popular nearby hike. The trailhead is only about fifteen minutes from the campground, and they’re making plans for a joint family outing.
But who’s going to watch the campground? What’s Mom thinking?
Distracted by the adults’ conversation, I don’t notice when McKenna reaches for a piece of corn with her bare hand. She immediately drops it, quietly yelping. Then she bites her lip, glancing left and then right, perhaps hoping no one noticed.
“They’re hot, Kenna Bear,” Landon says, teasing but not in an unkind way. He reaches around me and tugs her hand away from her stomach and looks at her fingers. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” she says quietly.
Giving her a smile, he plucks a piece of corn from the pile and drops it onto her plate. “Let it cool before you try to pull back the husk, okay?”
She nods and moves down the line.
“Corn?” Landon asks me.
“Sure,” I say, feeling unexplainably wobbly after watching Landon’s interaction with his younger sister.
He tosses a piece of corn on my plate and one onto his, and then he shakes his hand dramatically, laughing.
I move toward him, pretending to tell him a secret. “Those are hot.”
Landon shifts even closer, his eyes bright. “I noticed.”
Hunter loudly clears his throat behind us. “Dude, come on. Flirt later. I’m starving.”
As they are so prone to do, my cheeks go hot, and our mothers temporarily abandon their conversation to chuckle at us like we’re just too adorable. I’m flooded with irrational irritation, and I move along the counter.
Ignoring them, Landon moves near enough our shoulders press together, and he leans close to my ear. “Yeah, stop flirting, Lacey. Hunter’s hungry.”
I turn his way, mild retort ready on my tongue, but then I meet his eyes and realize my mistake. He’s so close. In fact, if we weren’t in a room full of his family and mine, I might think he was going to kiss me.
My stomach flutters at the thought, and I look away, forgetting what I was about to say. Luckily, Landon’s youngest brother bounds up with a book clenched in his small hands.
“Guess what?” he says to Landon in a normal voice before he dons a deep, pirate-esque accent. “There be gold in them thar hills.”
“Oh yeah?” Landon plucks the book from his brother’s hands and reads, “Colorado Treasure: Legend of Gideon Bonavit.”
Caleb looks up at him, his eyes wide with unbridled, youthful excitement.
“It’s a local legend,” I explain. “He was a settler in the mid-eighteen hundreds, had a claim not far from here. He came to town one day, boasting that he found a huge vein of gold. He was elated because it meant he could finally send for his family. After he left town that afternoon, no one heard from him again for weeks. When someone finally went looking for him, they found him and his wagon at the bottom of a cliff. They think he went over on his way back home.”
“That’s a lovely tale,” Landon deadpans.
I bark out a laugh, agreeing. It is sort of awful.
“Did he have his gold with him?” Caleb asks.
“No one ever found the gold he claimed he’d discovered, and lots of people have searched.”
“I want to look for gold!” Caleb snatches the book back and holds it to his chest.
“Gideon’s family donated the parcel of land to the Forest Service in the fifties,” I tell Landon. “You can take him up there to look around. There’s a shanty and signs with info. It’s kind of like an open-air museum.”
“Sounds like a date,” Landon says. “When do you want to check it out?”
I open my mouth, about to protest that I didn’t mean we should go, when Mom says a little too eagerly, “Oh, that sounds fun, Lacey. Why don’t you go tomorrow? It’s supposed to rain again this weekend.”
“I took today off,” I remind her.
She shrugs. “It’s summer.”
That’s right, summer. The busy season.
“I need to—”
“We’ve got it, hon,” Uncle Mark says, cutting me off. “Don’t worry about it.”
Landon gives me a crooked grin. “Well, then. Tomorrow it is.”
CHAPTER SIX
I peek out the window, watching for Landon, past nervous. But it’s fine. This is just a casual outing between casual acquaintances. Plus, it’s not a date if an eight-year-old boy comes along.
Unlike yesterday, I’m dressed for the weather, wearing layers I
can shed as the day warms. I did, however, curl my hair before I pulled it up into a ponytail. And I put on some subtle makeup. If I pulled it off, my skin should look dewy, my eyelashes miles long, and my lips kissably soft. (It takes longer to put on makeup that makes you look like you’re not wearing makeup than getting ready for an evening date—not that I’ve gone on many dates, in the evening or any other time.)
The doorbell rings, and I jump a foot into the air like a high-strung cat. Scolding myself, I open the door, hoping it’s not obvious I was just pacing the living room.
“Morning,” Landon says, looking more inviting than any boy should. With his defined shoulders and muscular build, it’s obvious he works hard to stay fit, even on the road. His arms are casually crossed over his almost-fitted T-shirt, and his biceps fill out the short sleeves in a way that would have some girls drooling.
Not me, of course. Some girls. Other girls.
“Bring your camera?” I ask.
He reaches into his back pocket, producing the small video recording device he was using the other day. “All charged up and ready to go.”
“Your dad says there’s a ghost town nearby.” Caleb shoves his way in front of Landon. He looks like a miniature explorer in his oversized khaki hat with its wide brim. “Can we see it too?”
“Sure,” I say, though my heart twinges when Caleb assumes Mark is my dad and not my uncle.
I walk them around the back of the house to the spot where I park my Jeep. It’s a white Wrangler, cute as can be even though it’s almost ten years old. When I got my license, Mom and Uncle Mark bought it for me from the lady who owns the rock and mineral shop on Main.
I glance at Caleb, wondering if he’s visited the little shop yet. She has all kinds of minerals, even a few fossils. I could buy him a geode, and Landon could split it. And maybe when it’s warmer, we could—
I stop myself, realizing I’m planning more outings. This is dangerous. The last thing I need to do is get attached—to either of them.
“Nice Jeep,” Landon says, earning copious amounts of brownie points.
I flash him a smile. “Thanks.”
Five minutes later, we’re navigating the winding road, making our way up the mountain. The new foliage on the trees and bushes is rich green thanks to all the rain we’ve had. Even the pines look more vibrant. It’s a pretty day. There are only a few wispy clouds in the sky, and it’s already warmer than yesterday.
A creek runs next to us, and Caleb presses his nose to the window. “Can we pan for gold?”
“Some people do, but there are rules and regulations. Your mom and dad would have to contact the Forest Service first and figure all that out.”
“Huh,” Caleb answers, less interested.
It takes another twenty minutes to reach the turnoff for the historic site—which translates to twenty minutes of mindlessly answering Caleb’s questions as I try not to focus on Landon sitting in the seat next to me. His long legs are stretched out in faded jeans that fit just right, and he wears sunglasses and a well-worn baseball cap. He’s the embodiment of a Colorado summer.
Finally, I take a right off the scenic highway, turning onto a well-traveled dirt road. It’s narrow with bumpy washboards that make Caleb say, “ahhhhh,” just so he can hear his voice vibrate.
“It’s rough,” Landon comments, turning my way as the Jeep’s back-end shimmies on a turn. Once we’re out of the corner, I glance at him, wondering how he’s handling the drive. To his credit, he doesn’t look too concerned.
“Soon a road grader will come through,” I tell him, “clean it up for the summer tourists in their low-clearance cars and two-wheel-drive vehicles. Paige’s brothers hate the road grader.”
“Paige is your friend, right? The one I met the other day?”
“Yeah.” I flash him a smile. “She’s the best. I’m lucky to have her.”
“I would say she’s probably pretty lucky to have you too.”
He has no idea. Paige lost her mom just a year before I lost my dad. We understood each other in a way no one else could, and we’ve been inseparable ever since.
We reach the historic site a minute later, and I pull to the side to park. Caleb scurries out of the Jeep as soon as I turn off the engine, and he books it to the shanty that stands twenty yards from the road.
“Don’t touch anything!” Landon hollers out his window, and then he turns back to me with a small smile on his face. He relaxes in his seat, and after a moment, he says, “Hi.”
The way he’s looking at me makes nervous butterflies stir in my stomach. “Aren’t we past that part of the outing?”
“We’ve had an eight-year-old chaperone.”
Which makes me wonder how he would have greeted me if Caleb hadn’t been with us.
“Well, then…hi,” I end up saying, feeling off…but in a rather pleasant way.
“Thanks for driving us up here.”
“Sure.” There’s a sudden lack of air in the Jeep, so I open my door and step out just so I can catch my breath.
I jam my hands in my pockets as we trail after Caleb. He bounces from sign to sign, reading each one out loud, utterly fascinated.
A Steller’s jay, a cousin to our town’s namesake, cackles from a nearby stand of pine trees. The greedy thing is probably hoping we’ll leave food.
“This must have been a crazy place to grow up,” Landon says as Caleb gazes at the small mine Gideon Bonavit dug himself. It’s blocked off, but the Forest Service has constructed thick plastic at the entrance so you can see inside if the sun is just right.
“It was pretty cool.” My words are contradicted by my listless shrug. Landon gives me a knowing look, and I laugh. “I mean, I like it here—it’s home, after all—but someday I’d like to look out my window and see something other than pine trees.”
“Have you thought about college? Technically you could leave in a year, go anywhere you want.”
“I don’t know.” I always feel uncomfortable when the subject comes up. “Mom needs me to help run the campground. I can’t just leave.”
Landon studies me, neither judging nor questioning. It’s more like he’s trying to figure out who I am. I’m not used to people looking that closely, and the attention makes me fidget.
“I’ll probably do online classes or something,” I say when I can take it no longer. “What about you? Do you start college in the fall?”
Landon furrows his brow. “I think I’m going to take a year off, travel a little more. But after that, yeah.”
“Sounds nice,” I say, my tone a touch wistful. The idea of traveling, visiting all the places other people in the campground seem to go to on a regular basis, would be awesome.
We stop by the shanty and Landon peers in the windows, looking at the scene that’s been reconstructed inside. There’s a tiny cot, a pickax, and a small table with a tin cup and kettle on it—not a lot considering Gideon lived here two years.
“If you could go anywhere,” Landon asks me after he reads the sign. “Where would you go?”
“The beach,” I say without even thinking about it. “I want to see the ocean more than anything.”
Startled, he looks at me, his eyebrows raised. “You’ve never been to the ocean?”
I shake my head.
“Where have you traveled?”
“Nowhere, really,” I say with a laugh. “I have an aunt who lives in New Mexico. We visited her once when I was little, just after my parents bought the campground from my grandparents. I don’t remember much about the trip, but apparently, I was terrified of the bats at Carlsbad Caverns.”
In fact, the thought of caves still makes me edgy.
Landon looks up from the sign and meets my eyes. “I want to hide you in the RV and take you everywhere.”
He says the words lightly, but my stomach warms.
“Maybe to a beach?” I ask, playing along.
“Lots of beaches.” His voice is lower, and like magnets drawn to each other, we shift closer. Hi
s eyes are the most mesmerizing shade. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a pale green color quite like them.
“Landon!” Caleb shouts. “Look at this!”
Landon clenches his eyes shut, chuckling under his breath. “Be right there,” he calls.
Both disappointed and relieved, I step away, putting space between us.
We spend another thirty minutes looking around, taking the short hike to a scenic point that looks out over dozens of natural lakes hidden in the trees. Caleb reads all the signs to us even though he’s already been to each one twice.
I stay out of the way when Landon takes out his video recorder. He narrates like he’s going to send the video to friends or family back home. He explains where he is, what we’re doing, who he’s with.
“Wave, Lacey,” he commands, pointing the lens at me.
I give in, pursing my lips to hold in a nervous giggle, and do as he requests.
After a while, we take Caleb to the ghost town that’s just a little farther up the main road and let him explore the aged, wooden houses.
“I haven’t been here in years,” I say to Landon as we walk through a two-story that’s in better shape than most.
“They’re tiny.” Landon motions to the room around us. “Can you imagine living somewhere this small?”
He’s right. The structures were built in the eighteen-hundreds, and they look more like large playhouses than real homes. There are a few plaques on the walls that talk about who owned the houses, how long they lived there, and what they did for a living. Most of the men worked at the crumbling lumber mill down the road, but a few were miners, and others raised livestock.
“Don’t go upstairs,” Landon calls to Caleb, who’s already climbed the first two steps. “It doesn’t look stable.”
The boy looks back at his brother, frowning like he’s trying to decide if taking a peek would be worth getting in trouble. After a moment, he gives in and comes down to join us.
We wander for a while longer. Growing worried about the way my nerves hum when Landon comes close, I keep a reasonable distance, never letting myself stand near enough to accidentally bump his arm or let our fingers brush.
If the Summer Lasted Forever Page 4
