She turned her attention to her boots, loosened the laces, and forced her socks down in a bunch to cushion her ankles. The next moment she shot to her feet and scanned the empty trail behind her. Keaton Atticus Cooper! Where, oh where, is poor Atticus? She’d forgotten about The Bookworm. Should she holler for him? No way! The sound would carry and Felicia’s perfect little shell-like ears would hear her and interpret it as a call for help.
Darby retraced her steps, muttering to herself. “This is the most stupid thing—” Not true! Haskel’s at the top of that list! “Okay, this is the second most stupid thing you’ve done all year.”
She backtracked around a bend and there, in a spot of sunlight, Keaton crouched, a phone in one hand as he held the other up, palm toward her, as if to ward off her approach.
“What are you doing?” She looked at his field of vision. The burst of sunlight hit an old stump. Golden moss crowned its top, and a line of British soldiers ran down the side, single file. It was pretty, in a way, but who takes a picture of moss? Atticus Bookworm.
He remained motionless for a second before he snapped the photo and stood. “Taking a picture.”
“I can see that.”
Keaton put his phone in the breast pocket of his blue t-shirt. His sweatshirt was tied around his waist like they used to do when they hiked as kids. Obviously the guy didn’t have a clue.
“We’re supposed to be hiking to our destination, not taking a nature stroll.”
“I got that. You made it abundantly clear when you took off like your boots were on fire.” One raised dark brow appeared over the black framed glasses.
Maybe he had a point. She shrugged. “Sorry about that. I just don’t want to let Bonnie and Garrett down.”
“We won’t.” Keaton slipped the trail map out of his hip pocket.
His confident tone bugged her. “So you’ve been on one of these Take a Peak competitions before, have you?”
“Never.” He stepped closer and opened the trail map, his finger pointing out their location. “But I think it helps to follow one of these.”
She eyed his lean features and saw his lips twitch in the ghost of a smile. So Atticus Bookworm is a smart Alec as well. His sarcastic humor was definitely not appreciated. She frowned and snatched the paper from his hand.
~
Keaton stepped back and let his partner fume over the map. She’d been out of sorts from the moment they’d met in the parking lot. Was it him or her? He might be wrong, but he’d say it had something to do with that little blond number on the other team, but it didn’t make sense. Darby couldn’t have known Felicia Jamison was going to be in this competition. Still, something was up with her, and it was shaping up to be an interminable four days. He’d make sure Garrett paid for this, big time.
“Oh.” The word popped out of her mouth. She chewed on her fingernail for a moment before she turned to him. He quickly glanced off into the trees. Lord, what are You doing? Does this woman really need to do things that remind me of Jess? He shook his head. Millions of people chewed their fingernails. It was nothing special. Get a grip!
He took off his cap and ran an unsteady hand through his hair. Just hike and don’t think about anything but the pictures. Keats swallowed past the hard lump in his throat and turned his attention back to Darby who fixed him with a defeated stare. “We’ve missed the turn off in the trail. We’ll have to backtrack to pick up our first token.”
“No, I got the first token right here.” Keaton reached into his jeans’ pocket and pulled out a red metal circle stamped with the image of a tree.
Darby’s lips curled into a surprised circle and he smiled in spite of his irritation. “I whistled and called to you, but you were already a mile ahead, or just out of earshot and lost in the beauty of the moment. I couldn’t tell for sure, so I made a little detour and here we are.”
Darby’s narrowed eyes met his and her finger jabbed toward the trail map. “Great, but here we are when we should be halfway to Silver Falls by now. We still need to backtrack to get to the falls and find the next token.”
“We can get there from here.” He traced a direct route with his forefinger before she jerked the map away from his touch. Talk about touchy! Darby was nothing like Jess. This woman was wound tighter than her designer hiking stretch pants.
“We need to stay on the marked trails.”
Keaton shrugged. “If you say so, but I was pretty sure you didn’t want to run into that Neanderthal and his peewee bubblehead sidekick who can’t seem to remember your name.”
Darby’s blond brows lowered and her cheeks grew pink as the Palestrina tulips that used to grow by the back door of the cabin. He hadn’t been back to see them in bloom since he buried the match box with their wedding rings in Jess’s little garden. He quickly shook the memory loose from his head. Focus on right now, shut out everything else! “That’s not—” his companion spluttered to a stop.
“Sorry. My mistake. I’m just saying, we could easily bushwhack over to the falls and, if you’re concerned about our environmental impact, I promise we’ll tread lightly.” He took a swig from his water bottle and glanced up at the angle of the sun shooting down through the trail gap in the trees. In another hour or so, the conditions could be right for a great shot of the gray green lichen majestic as Elk horns clinging to the boulder near Darby’s pack.
“And you’re confident of this? Or are you looking up at the sky for a sign?” Her low drawl brought Keats back to his present reality.
“Both.”
“So you’re a Boy Scout and a trail prophet?”
He turned to her flushed face and met her sharp blue gaze. “I used to be a Boy Scout back in the day. As to the other, if you want to know, I do look to God for guidance, but I make it a point never to mock my faith or anyone else’s.” As soon as the words came out, he wished he could take them back. The vast wilderness swallowed them up immediately, but Darby’s silence rang in his ears like a five-alarm fire bell. “Sorry,” he muttered. “That came out sounding pretentious. All I meant was—”
“Hey, it’s okay.” He jerked his arm away at her light touch and her hand quickly dropped to her side. “I guess I deserved it. Look, I’m a bit touchy. Obviously you are, too. Let’s just do this thing and make the best of it, okay?”
“Fine by me. What do you want to do? Totally your call.”
Darby laughed, and the light sound bounced off the birches and startled him.
“That’s funny?”
She hunched one shoulder but her smile stayed in place. The first congenial expression he’d seen on her face since they’d met. “I want to be anywhere but here, and so do you.”
“That’s not—a” He stopped mid-sentence and stared into those crystal blue eyes. This woman wasn’t as self-absorbed as she pretended. He nodded back the way they’d come. “We’d better beat feet if we’re going to backtrack.”
Darby shook her head and another low laugh rippled through the trees.
“I’m not sure what’s so funny, but you might as well let me in on the joke, unless, of course, I am the joke.”
“I like to think I’m laughing with you.”
“That’d be great except you may have noticed, I’m not laughing.”
Darby twirled around in a slow three-hundred-and-sixty degrees. The sunlight bounced off her blond ponytail and she put her forefinger to her lips. “Right. I’m acting like a crazy woman. Sorry. But while I’m in the mood, whatever, let’s bushwhack over to the falls. Lead on, Eagle Scout, and I’ll follow.”
What am I supposed to make of that? So far the only thing he could figure was that he had no clue about his hiking partner. “I was never an Eagle Scout.”
“Right.” Darby grinned at him and slithered her arms into her pack. Just how Jess used to! Keats quickly looked away and strode off into the trees, shouldering past the laced together limbs of birch and poplar hemming him in with his memories. He walked briskly for awhile until his rocky emotions went flat and he c
ould focus on the light reflecting off the nearby kelly-green fir needles.
He stopped for a moment and cocked his head until he heard footsteps crashing through the underbrush behind him. He glanced back and Darby’s pink anorak flickered through the branches just before she burst through the evergreens and stopped by his side.
He shouldn’t worry about her being all over the emotional map when he was already off-roading there himself. “Sorry to take off like that,” he muttered.
“No problem. Been there, done that earlier, if you recall. Mind if we take a water break? Just a little one.” She shrugged her shoulders into her pack then rotated them several times. She bent her head for a moment before she raised her eyes to the sky. She was hurting.
“First time hiking?” he asked.
She stiffened and her face went rigid as it had in the clearing before they started out this morning. “This season.” She lifted the water bottle to her prim lips. Keats noticed beads of sweat at her hairline. She must’ve felt them, too, because in the next moment she pulled a blue-and-pink cloth from her anorak pocket and wiped her brow.
“We’ve got time to rest if you want to take off a layer.”
The annoyed look she gave him before her eyes traveled from his hat to his boots spoke volumes. In spite of his best judgment, he followed her gaze and glanced down at his faded t-shirt, old jeans, and boots. When was the last time he bought new clothes? He knew the answer. Jess was the shopper, not him. “Not that I mind the anorak.” Where’d that come from? Keep my mouth shut!
“Are you one of those purest hikers who demand everyone dress in neutral tones so we won’t jar your senses and spoil your wilderness experience?”
“Uh… no.” He shifted from one leg to the other and cleared his throat. He’d put his foot in it big time. Keats shrugged. “A closed mouth gathers no foot, right?”
Darby stuffed her water bottle into the side mesh pocket of her pack and slowly stretched her torso first to the left and then to the right. “Enough of that or I’ll tip over.” She drew herself up straight and sucked in a deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry I was… well… touchy, or snippy, or whatever you want to call it.”
“It’s fine.” Just drop it and let’s get going. Obviously conversation was a killer for both of them. Or is it just me? What had Garrett said back in the apartment? Something about people skills and rough edges and Bonnie sanding them off before their first night’s camp? Too late!
“No, it’s not.”
“It’s none of my business what you wear.”
“Right back atcha, Mr. Killer Cotton.” She flashed him a smile.
He looked away from her olive branch expression and down at his old boots. “I like to think it’s the common man look.” He tweaked on the front of his tee shirt and noticed a faded yogurt stain. Why hadn’t he dug in the drawer for something he hadn’t worn every other day for the past few years? Jess’ voice echoed in his memory. What is it with you and that blue shirt? Give it up, Keats, or this could get ugly quick. He saw her standing in front of the washing machine, advancing on him, laughing as she stripped off his shirt and flung it behind her. A ghost of a smile forced its way to his lips.
“If it’s the 1950’s man you mean.” Darby’s low voice pulled him up, shaky and weak, from drowning in the memory.
“Fifties… seriously? Says who?” He had no interest in the conversation, but he grabbed the thread like a lifeline.
“I hate to be the one to break it to you, but they’ve made a few advances in hiking gear in the past century. Everything’s synthetics now; poly blends like nylon, rayon, polypropylene, and, of course, spandex. Where would we be without spandex?” She grinned and he felt himself breathe again.
“Sounds more like hot air balloons and rocket fuel.”
“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it. Synthetics are all about comfort. They’re light and soft, abrasion and wrinkle resistant, and they layer well.”
“Might be too high-tech for a retro guy like me.”
“If you want to go natural they’ve got Merino wool or silk — non-itchy, naturally antibacterial. Bad thing about synthetics, though, they can get stinky build-up after a few days.” Two soft pink spots appeared on her cheeks and her blond brows raised into peaks, accentuating her deep blue eyes. “Too much information, huh?”
“I’ll keep it in mind.” He shook his head but smiled. “You sound like a catalog sales rep.”
Her face went nearly as pink as her anorak and she bowed her head for a second. “Sorry,” she murmured so low he barely caught it. Darby straightened and flung out her arm. “We better get going; as Garrett likes to say, ‘We’re burning daylight.’”
Keaton turned his back to her and strode through the trees, slower this time, aware of the woman following behind him. They were a pair: one minute civil, the next at odds, sad then happy; well, maybe not happy, but at least able to pretend a certain normalcy. Life was like a human mine field, and this hike had more than its share of hidden dangers. He’d said something to set her off again, but he couldn’t figure how clothes could make someone down. He glanced at his faded blue shirt and grimaced. Okay, I get it.
Chapter 4
Darby followed her companion, dropping back a short distance to allow herself space to think. While their pace was steady, it was slower than before and she knew Keats was adjusting the speed for her needs, not his. She watched his easy stride move through the trees with natural grace. She was behind him, thrashing through the brush and breathing like a draft horse, but he was a guy at quiet ease with the environment.
She shook her head. He wasn’t so at ease with her. Not that she cared, but it did make her wonder. Is it me? Maybe Haskel hadn’t dumped her for Felicia. Maybe he dumped me because I’m me. Depressing in the extreme! Can’t go there. If she wanted to meet them at Traveler’s Pass tomorrow night with head held high, she’d better hang onto her game plan and her game face. Beat the pants off Felicia Jamison in every way possible — best time, best hiker, most points, and first to the peak. Easy, right?
Darby plowed into the camo-green backpack ahead of her. Keaton spun around and grabbed her arm, his strong fingers providing a stalwart presence to steady her headlong stumble. “Sorry,” Why was she always saying sorry to this guy? It was sick; or it would be, if she wasn’t always doing something idiotic.
His grip dropped away as sudden as an autumn leaf in a windstorm. “No, it’s my fault. I stopped without warning. My—” He looked up at the sky, then back at her. “Someone told me I do it all the time.”
“No problem.”
Keats took off his glasses and polished the lenses on his shirt. He must have the cleanest glasses on the planet!
“So why are we stopping?” she asked.
He put on his glasses before he cocked his head and a slow smile appeared on his otherwise somber face. “Listen.”
Darby took in a breath and held it as the world around her filtered through her defenses. A jay called, and then she heard it… the muted roar like a muffled drum in the silence. She smiled. “Silver Falls.”
He nodded and gestured with his head toward the direction of the sound before he set off again without another word. His pace never quickened and, in a particularly thick copse of hemlock, he held back the branches with his body and gestured for her to pass in front of him.
Darby sidled by him and waited for him to step around her, but Keats grinned and pointed to the marked trail a few feet from her. She wanted to speak but no words came. His silent presence was both a comfort and a bit uncomfortable. It unnerved her, somehow, so she spun on her heel and marched quickly to the beaten path.
The trail angled sharply up between evergreen trees and, as Darby ascended, all she could see was a huge boulder blocking the path. When she finally climbed the last few feet she could see that the trail wound sharply around the large rock and several smaller ones. She watched her feet carefully over the root-ribbed, rocky trail and halted just as the noise hit her ful
l force from the front and a strong but gentle hand gripped her elbow.
Darby looked up at the raging falls, then down over the clearing spread out before them. Iridescent waves of mist pulsed off the moving water and hovered over the roiling pool as the falls foamed and thundered above them. She could feel not only the presence of space and nature drawing her in, but Keaton’s silent presence at her side as well, almost as if he were vibrating with the intensity of the moment. She took her eyes off the spectacular drop of water and looked at him, but his eyes were glued to the scene as if he were trying to memorize every drop spilling over the cliff.
He let his pack drop and, in the same motion, pulled his phone out of his pocket. The next moment, Keats scrambled down the steep slope to the surging stream below them. He hopped from rock to rock out into the pool and cocked his head this way and that, like a wild bird, before he took several photos.
Darby worked her way more slowly down to the water’s edge, breathing in the moist, cool air. She sat on a rock and looked at her watch. Past time to eat but she smiled, pleased with her physical progress. As she wiggled out of her pack and rummaged for her lunch, she flexed her sore shoulders. It felt good to sit and be free of the weight, but she also knew the danger of staying still for too long. A little rest wouldn’t make her stiffen up too much. I hope.
She watched her companion leap from stone to stone and successfully cross to the outcropping on the opposite side of the stream. His appearance wavered in the spill of water as he edged closer to the base of the falls.
She ate her packaged trail food and finished it off with some energy burst dried blue-green algae, then leaned back and stretched her neck, face, and eyes, to the bright blue circle of sky overhead. She closed her eyes and listened to nature roar as the worries of the day and the stress of the past few months seeped out of her. Her cold hands reveled in the rough strength of the rock beneath her. Thank you.
She wasn’t sure why she thought it, why she felt the need to whisper it in this place. Was she thanking God for the rush of tranquility, or Bonnie for asking her to come, or even Keats for bringing her safely here? At this moment it didn’t matter. She simply let the gratitude and peace overflow inside her like the effervescent water surrounding her in the air, stream, and falls.
Love's Sporting Chance: Volume 1: 6 Romantic sporting novellas Page 31
