She shook her head. “They both passed away, and my mom and sister still live in their home. It’s really a beautiful place, full of history. My mother hosts a yearly ball, and all the women put on their vintage hoopskirts and poofy dresses. I always make sure I’m home for that.”
“Sounds like something that shouldn’t be missed.”
“Definitely.” She raised her head and looked into his eyes. “Do you . . . never mind. It’s a stupid question.”
He met her gaze. “No, Amber, I don’t drink.”
“How . . . how did you know what I was going to say?”
A faint smile, gentle, touched his lips. And then he lowered those lips to hers and they kissed her, just as gently as his smile.
Chapter Eight
Wes grinned when he saw the look on Amber’s face. He’d brought her to his favorite spot on this mountain, a spot where the sun broke through the trees and created a pillar that seemed to reach right up into heaven itself. He’d timed their hike perfectly so they wouldn’t miss it. The little break they’d taken to talk about Amber’s family had thrown off the schedule just slightly, but he couldn’t resent that—he’d seen another beautiful piece of her heart, another glimpse of what made her the person she was.
Now she stepped out into the middle of the light and lifted her face to the sky, then twirled around, her arms spread out wide. She looked like a little girl, or maybe a nymph, dancing in the woods. He was tempted to join her, but watching her was even more fun, and so he stayed back and let her have this moment of joy. That’s what nature did for him every day—that’s why he spent so much time in these mountains.
When she’d spun around several times, she flung herself onto the grass and laughed. “I haven’t done that in years,” she said. “And now I remember why.”
“You aren’t going to throw up, are you?” he asked, amused.
“No. At least, I don’t think so.” She rolled onto her side and propped up her head. “Whatcha doing?”
“Unpacking our lunch. That’s why I asked about the throwing-up thing. And then I need to get you back—you’re supposed to be going rafting, remember?”
She groaned and flopped back onto the grass. “I’d much rather stay up here with you.”
“And I’d much rather stay here with you. Your boss might have other ideas, though.”
“My boss. You’re right. He who calls all the shots.” She sat up and took the water bottle he offered. “What did you bring us?”
“Well, I remember hearing a rumor that you like potato salad with dill pickles.”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
He plopped down next to her on the ground. “Allow me to introduce my mother’s potato salad. She was kind enough to jot down her recipe before she headed off on her whirlwind trip with my dad, and I handed it off to Bob, and presto!”
Amber looked at the bowl suspiciously. “I’m not sure what all’s in here.”
“I shall tell you. Potatoes, olives, radishes, green onions, dill pickles, bacon bits, mustard, and mayonnaise. Oh, and pickle juice.”
She raised both eyebrows. “Pickle juice?”
“Yes. It’s mixed into the sauce. You’ve just got to trust me.”
“I don’t know . . .”
He laughed. “Hey. You said you’d trust me to get you off a cliff if you were stuck.”
“Yes, but this is different. This is food. Food . . . it’s different.”
“It’s different?”
“Of course. Food is joy and happiness, and I’m not sure I like risking my joy and happiness.”
“You’d rather risk your life on a cliff?” He loved teasing her. In fact, this might be even more fun than teasing Kelsi. He’d have to evaluate that.
“I didn’t realize I had to choose one or the other.”
“Well, considering that you’re not dangling from a cliff at the moment, but that I am offering you some potato salad, let’s make a decision here. I promise this salad won’t kill you. Even if you don’t like it, you won’t die from it. You could, on the other hand, die from being stranded on the side of a cliff, so I believe the odds with the salad are somewhat better.”
“Hmm. You do make a convincing argument. Do you have a fork so I can examine the evidence?”
He held one up without saying a word.
She popped the lid off the bowl and gathered up a bite. “I need to make sure that I’m getting some of everything all at once here for the proper effect,” she said.
“That’s the only real way to eat it,” he agreed.
He watched her carefully as she chewed. The expression on her face didn’t give anything away, and it was sort of driving him crazy. He needed to know what she thought, but even more than that, he needed to know why he cared. It was just salad.
No, it was more than salad. It was asking for another glimpse into what made her tick, and showing her part of who he was. Hoping to be accepted, not to be rejected.
“I believe I need another bite before I can make a judgment.” She took another bite, looking very thoughtful, and then she nodded. “It’s totally different from any potato salad I’ve ever had before, and I’m not sure what I think about the radishes, but overall, I like it. In fact, I’m willing to keep eating it until I’ve formed a solid opinion on the radishes. These things should not be rushed.”
She turned her body away from him and hunkered down over the bowl, shielding it with her body while she took her next bite.
“Hey, what do you mean, you’re going to keep eating it? I haven’t taken any yet.” He tried to reach around her to grab the bowl, but she twisted away even farther.
“You handed me this container, making me believe that the container belonged to me.”
“But I never said the whole thing was yours.” He made another grab, but she brought up her elbow, blocking him.
“This is a delicate investigation,” she said. “I advise you not to interfere with the wheels of justice.”
He sat back on his heels and pulled out another sack. “I also brought roast beef sandwiches.”
She looked over her shoulder. “Oh?”
“On soft French bread.”
She turned a little bit.
“With Dijon mustard and thinly sliced Swiss cheese.”
She seemed to consider that. “I’ll give you some salad in exchange for a sandwich, but the container is mine.”
“You need to clarify what you mean by ‘some’ salad.” He wasn’t letting her off the hook with such vague phrasing.
“One cup.”
He shook his head. “No dice.”
“A cup and a half.”
“Better.”
A few minutes later, they both had their paper plates dished up with salad, sandwiches, and chips, and they sat back-to-back to eat.
“I really could stay up here forever,” Amber said. “I mean, I know I said that before, but it bears repeating because it’s absolutely true.”
“I’ve thought about building a cabin up here, actually, but it would be impossible to get a vehicle up here in the winter.”
“So why not make it a summer cabin?” Amber suggested. “Live down on the ground with all the regular people during the winter months?”
Wes blinked a few times. “That’s actually pretty brilliant.”
“There’s no need to sound so surprised,” she teased. “I do have good ideas once in a while.”
“I’m sure you do, and that’s another one.” His brain was already whirling with ideas. An open floor plan, simple, one large room with a loft, a porch so he could sit out front and watch the sun set . . . He’d have to talk to his brothers and sisters, but he really couldn’t see a downside to it. Maybe they could rent it out as a honeymoon hideaway once in a while, but to be honest, he was thinking of it for his own personal use. He could stand to be a little selfish once in a while, right?
“Already designing it in your head?” Amber asked, and he realized he’d gone silent.
“Yeah, a
nd it’s going to be amazing. If we actually do it,” he clarified. A glance at his watch told him they needed to head back. “Come on—I’ll give you a hand up.”
They put everything back in Wes’s pack and headed down the mountain, this time with their fingers intertwined, and he wished with all his heart that there was a way to slow the clock and make these moments last forever. Amber, twirling in the sunshine. Amber, stealing his potato salad. Amber, dashing up ahead and calling out, “Race you!”
Chapter Nine
Amber threw on her swimsuit and then put her T-shirt back on, followed by a pair of shorts. She was almost late to meet the others at the river, but she wasn’t overly sorry. Every minute she’d spent with Wes had definitely been worth it.
When she arrived at the dock, she found Peter in some sort of heated discussion with a man she could only assume was Will, the Weston brother in charge of aquatics. He had the distinctive Weston blue eyes, but they didn’t flash with enjoyment like the other Westons’ eyes did. He looked frustrated, and she could tell why within seconds of arriving.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Finnegan, but I’m not taking anyone on this river who isn’t wearing a life jacket,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“But this entire weekend is meant to be about establishing trust,” Peter said, his voice becoming louder. “One person will wear a jacket, and they’ll be tied to everyone else. It’s all outlined here.” He waved a piece of paper.
“I honestly don’t care what you’ve outlined, sir. It’s against all our safety practices, and I won’t do it. Each passenger will wear a life jacket, and no one will be tied to anyone else.” Will took a deep breath. “Who came up with that idea, anyway?”
“I did,” Peter replied. “It seemed perfectly logical to me.”
Amber glanced over at Harold and Giles. They seemed a little stunned by the whole conversation, just as she was.
“You came up with this idea?” Will asked, sounding incredulous. Amber was impressed that he didn’t outright laugh. “I’m guessing you’ve little to no experience with rafting, sir?”
“It’s true that I’ve never actually participated,” Peter hedged.
“Then I can see how you might be unaware how dangerous it can be. We’re obligated both legally and morally to keep our visitors safe and to follow every precaution. I know you understand the importance of the law, Mr. Finnegan, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to break it.”
Amber turned her head slightly to hide a smile. She liked this Weston brother. Well, obviously not as much as she liked Wes, but there were certain admirable traits that ran in the family.
“All right,” Peter conceded. “What all does this rafting adventure entail?”
Will explained that each passenger would put on a life jacket, take a seat on the raft, and would be issued a paddle. They would be assigned a guide, who would instruct them in what to do, and that they’d be on the river for about thirty minutes. Peter nodded his assent, and they put on their life jackets. Amber was grateful it had been resolved so quickly—Peter had been known to drag out arguments for twenty minutes or more when he wanted to. It made working with him very interesting.
Their guide introduced himself as Zack, and within minutes, they were on their way. Zack showed them to a small bus they’d be taking to the beginning of the run, and they’d end back up at the boathouse where they started. Amber was grateful that she’d had time to digest a little bit as they hiked back down the mountain—she wasn’t sure that eating a delicious lunch right before getting on a raft would have been the best idea.
When they hit the rapids, they were kept plenty busy holding on. Zack showed them how to position their paddles, but she was pretty sure he was doing most of the work and they were just along for the ride.
The up-and-down motion of the raft didn’t bother her much, but she looked over and noticed that Harold was green.
“Are you all right?” she asked him.
He answered by leaning over the side and vomiting.
She couldn’t help but wonder what varieties of fish lived in this river, and to feel sorry for them.
The rushing of the water reminded her a little bit of the sound of traffic, but it was soothing and natural, not angry and artificial. She loved the feel of the cool spray as it splashed up against the raft. The trees as they rushed by, the speed of it all—she would love to do this again if they had time, but she didn’t think they did. Maybe if she came back in a few months—but how much did it even cost to come here? She hadn’t given it a single thought since the firm was paying for this trip, but if she were to come back on her own dime—hmm. Were they talking hundreds? A thousand? She didn’t even know how to guess.
They’d have a website, though . . . as they entered the next series of rapids, she told herself she’d look it up when she got back to her room. She had to come back—she just had to. There was no way that a single trip here was going to be enough, and that might or might not have something to do with Wesley Weston.
***
“So, what do you think?” Wes looked across the desk at Wade, whose brow had been furrowed for the last ten minutes.
“I really like the idea,” Wyatt said from where he’d been leaning against the doorjamb of Wade’s office.
“And I love it.” Kelsi’s eyes were aglow, like she was already seeing the possibilities. “I can’t think of a more romantic spot—we’d have it booked out almost constantly during honeymoon season.”
“Except I want to use it sometimes too,” Wes reminded her.
“Oh? Are you planning a honeymoon?” she asked, her eyes wide.
“No. I mean, someday, but for now, I just want to use it. As a thinking spot.”
“So you can do your thinking in private? I don’t know.” Dani stood up and crossed the room. “I’d prefer you do it right here, in front of all of us, so we can make sure it actually gets done.”
“Oh, very funny.” Wes shook his head. “Where’s Will? We need everyone’s vote on this.”
“He called in a few minutes ago. Said he’d be late because he was having a little dispute with one of the lawyers on his afternoon run,” Wade said.
“I’m pretty sure I can guess which lawyer that was,” Wes replied. If only there was a way to send the other three lawyers home and keep Amber for the rest of the weekend. He could send them horseback riding with Wyatt and slip him a twenty for them to get conveniently lost . . . but Wyatt had a little too much integrity in him. He’d never go for that.
“While we wait,” Kelsi said, fixing her eyes on Wes, “you could tell me more about the Bigfoot aroma you detected last night outside the dining room.”
“Oh, yeah. I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. Did you smell it too? Over by the bushes?”
“You know, we did pick up on a strange scent, and we followed it to where it seemed strongest. And what do you suppose we found? A bottle marked ‘eau de Bigfoot.’ How do you suppose it got there?”
“Bigfoot wears cologne? Are you serious?” Wes pasted on his best look of shock. “Holy cow. I never would have thought that.”
“Wes!” She reached out and smacked his shoulder. “You put it there!”
“I can neither confirm nor deny that accusation.”
“And that’s what happens when you spend too much time with lawyers,” came a new voice from the doorway as Will came in the room. With all six Weston siblings in Wade’s office, it was bound to get a little squished, but they always seemed to make it work. “You start talking like them.”
“In my defense, I’ve only spent any real time with one of the lawyers, and she only talks like that when she wants to make a point or steal my potato salad,” Wes retorted.
“Ooo! You fed her potato salad?” Kelsi asked, her eyes even wider.
“And she tried to steal it?” Dani added. “Are you sure you’re not planning a honeymoon?”
“Did Mom give you two the assignment to take over her matchmaking while she’s gone?
” Wes asked.
“She didn’t have to assign it, dear brother. I, at least, took it on willingly,” Kelsi informed him.
“Wait. What am I missing?” Will asked.
Wes held up both hands. “Let’s just slow down a minute here. I’d like to build a cabin on Sunrise Ridge. Just a small one, one large room, a porch, that kind of thing. Summer use only, we could rent it out from time to time, and I could use it when it’s not booked. We need a consensus.”
Will nodded. “I think that’s a great spot. Nice, secluded, romantic.”
“That’s exactly what I think too,” Kelsi replied.
“And how are we going to fit that in with all these other projects?” Wade pointed to a list on his desk. “Mom and Dad are keeping us hopping with improvements already. And the budget . . . are you thinking totally rustic, or are we going to need to run some electricity lines up there? Please tell me you’re thinking an outhouse—I can’t even contemplate running plumbing that far.”
“No worries, big brother. There are already some powerlines nearby that were run through by the county, and I don’t see any problem with an outhouse as long as it’s a nice one like the other ones the girls have been making us build.” Wes caught Dani’s scowl. “Um, like the ones the girls have thoughtfully and lovingly encouraged us to build. And which are greatly appreciated.”
“That’s better,” Dani said, but the expression on her face didn’t relax at all.
“And if it’s a matter of budget, I do have some money I’ve been sitting on,” Wes continued.
“What? You’d invest your own money?” Kelsi asked, sitting upright. “I don’t think that’s fair.”
“If I’m using the cabin when it’s not booked? I think it’s fair,” Wes replied. “And the ranch could pay me back after the cabin has earned its keep.”
“That’s really generous of you, Wes, but it shouldn’t be necessary.” Wade looked down at his ledger. “If we decide to go through with it, we’ll find a way to work it in with the other expansions.”
“Thanks, guys,” Wes said. “I’m not sure why it’s so important to me, but it just is.”
Rugged Rockclimber (River's End Ranch Book 8) Page 6
