Could've Said Yes

by Tracy March

  They headed over to the register, where Collin paid for their ice cream.

  “Where do we start the tour?” he asked as she led him outside.

  “Right here.” She gestured toward the dark brown, false-front, two-story wood-framed building next door. “At the Town Hall. It’s the only building left from the initial boom back in 1879 when Gothic was a silver-rush town.” Ellie absently licked her orange ice cream, distracting him. He forced himself to look away and took a bite of his Big Wheel.

  “This was never officially a town hall,” she said between licks that knotted him up with the urge to kiss her. “It was a saloon where they held public forums downstairs, so that’s what they ended up calling the place.” She leaned close to him, pointed to the second-floor windows, and whispered, “But upstairs was another story.”

  “Let me guess,” he said. “There were women up there who, um, kept the miners company.”

  “Yep. You know, I should’ve saved that for the big finale,” she said lightly. “In Tour Guiding for Dummies, they warn against front-loading all the excitement.”

  “We still have the ride back.” Collin raised his Big Wheel and took a bite.

  “Those women were kind of a staple in the mining towns back in the day,” Ellie said. “And Gothic City was the largest, wildest mining town around. About eight thousand people lived here in its heyday—five times the population of Thistle Bend now.”

  “It’s hard to imagine.”

  “I know. But people say it was quite a place. Hotels. Restaurants. Stores and a school and a bank. Even a newspaper.” She pointed across the main road that ran straight through the middle of RMBL. “See that small brown building with the arched windows and the silver tin roof?”

  Collin nodded.

  “That used to be a lawyer’s office. Only a professional making some decent cash would have spent the extra money on architectural details like arches. Made him seem legit.” Ellie stepped away from a bee that seemed interested in her ice cream. “Speaking of legit, the place really hit the map when President Grant came here in 1880, and they had a parade for him. No one knows for sure, but that might’ve been the only parade they ever had.”

  “How come?”

  “In 1881 the town started to decline when miners found out that most of the ore in the area wasn’t rich enough for processing.”

  “So Gothic City was just a blip on the screen? The building boom started in 1879, eight thousand people rushed here, and then the place went into decline two years later.” Collin hoped he’d gotten his facts straight. He wouldn’t be able to process anything properly until Ellie finished her Push-Up. Even then all bets might be off.

  “That was the start of it, but the full decline took eleven years.”

  She led him between the Town Hall and the Visitor Center, down a narrow dirt path cut through scrubby grasses and wildflowers. Collin was happy to follow, considering the fine view he had from behind her. He took the last bite of his Big Wheel and tossed the wrapper in a nearby trash can, narrowing his gaze on a tiny building he’d caught sight of.

  “Need a woman’s opinion,” he said.

  Ellie slowed and faced him, grinning. “I’ve been known to have a couple of those.” She stepped over to the trash can and threw in the empty Push-Up container.

  Collin pointed at the building that had caught his attention—an old-fashioned outhouse complete with a crescent moon carved out of the door. “On the facilities scale, which is preferable—a port-o-john or an outhouse?”

  She scrunched her nose. “Don’t get me started. Before Brian moved up here for the summer, I warned him that he wouldn’t get to use a real toilet for months, and he’d probably have to go days without showering.” She pointed to a small, timber-sided structure about twenty yards away. “That’s the shower building. There can only be a few stalls in there, but a hundred and sixty people live here. When does everyone get to bathe?”

  A sly smile stretched across Collin’s face. “So you’re not big into camping?”

  She took off her jacket and folded it over her forearm. “Camping’s an adventure, not a lifestyle—campfires, s’mores, sleeping under the stars.”

  “When’s the last time you went camping?”

  The look in her eyes had “busted” written all over it. “When I was ten.”

  Collin nodded, a wily grin stretching across his face. “Then I’d say you’re due.”

  Chapter 4

  The motorcycle ride had spoiled Ellie—speeding along for miles with the wind in her face and her arms around Collin’s tightly muscled body. She wasn’t ready to get involved with another guy, but holding on to Collin had her questioning her resolve. He was hot, sexy, and fun, but she had to keep things cool, casual, and friendly. That’s all she could handle, and definitely all she wanted her brother Brian to see. Both he and her younger brother, Matt, were super-protective of her—especially since Noah had crushed her heart. But there was no need for them to worry…

  Was there?

  After she pointed out the small, timber-sided library to Collin, she led him along a widening path bordered by stacked river rocks to a more modern building—all wood and steel, with a corrugated tin roof and an impressive array of solar panels. Several bicycles had been left in the shade of the building’s overhang, and two college-aged girls worked out front—one at an outdoor potting bench, the other at a big sink.

  “This is the Gothic Research Center, where a lot of the science happens.” Ellie grinned. “And my artist’s brain explodes.”

  Collin winced. “That could get messy.”

  “For sure. That’s why we’re just going to keep walking and reduce the likelihood of an incident. Brian would kill me if my exploding brain disrupted the research.”

  The dirt path narrowed as they headed away from the Research Center. On either side, colorful wildflowers, grasses, and scrubby shrubs grew as high as their knees.

  Ellie pointed across the road to another rustically modern building in the near distance—a timber-glass-and-stucco structure with a gabled tin roof. “That’s the Community Center and Dining Hall, where they evidently make a killer PB and J, according to Brian.”

  Collin nodded, raising his eyebrows as if he were truly impressed. “If you can’t make a killer PB and J, then you might as well shut down the joint, right?”

  “You’ve got a point there.” Ellie glanced up at him. “I hate to break it to you, but that’s the tour. Pretty much all that’s left are residential cabins—and outhouses.” She winked.

  Varying in size, condition, and construction material, the cabins dotted the rolling landscape and peeped from behind the trees. “This trail leads to Brian’s place. It’s up the hill, just in front of that line of spruce trees in the distance.”

  Ellie followed Collin’s gaze as he surveyed the area—rustic and weathered, yet beautiful with a canvas of brilliant wildflowers beneath the rugged mountain backdrop.

  He shook his head. “I’m still having a hard time picturing this place as the largest, wildest mountain town around.”

  “Eight thousand people. It’s so sad that their dreams got dashed and the town declined like it did.”

  “I’m sure it was. But those people were risk-takers.” He pressed his lips into a tight line, and a crease formed between his eyebrows. “You take your chances. Sometimes risks pay off, sometimes they don’t.”

  Ellie narrowed her eyes, her insides pinching with regret. Thanks to Noah, she knew full well what it was like to be all-in, and have the future you dreamed of ripped away. “Sounds like the voice of experience talking.”

  Collin shoved his hands into the pockets of his hiking pants and shrugged. “I give the people who left here credit for moving on and trying to make it somewhere else.”

  Ellie got the feeling he might be talking about himself, too. She waited several beats, hoping he’d say more, but he didn’t.

  Keep it casual, Ellie.

  Considering how close they were to
Brian’s cabin, there wasn’t time for a conversation about past risks and regrets. Even if there were, there was no need to get into anything deep and personal.

  Ellie led him up the path, eager to get back to a safe subject. “Seven thousand and ninety-nine people left Gothic City, and by 1893, the year of the silver crash, the population was down to one.”

  “One person?”

  “Yep.” As they reached a rise, she spotted Brian sitting in an Adirondack chair on the deck of his cabin, and waved. “Garwood Judd. The Man Who Stayed.”

  “Dude must’ve been hard-core.”

  “That, and a lot of other stuff,” she said. “Over the years he ran a little saloon here. He was also a Realtor, a trustee, a police magistrate, and the mayor. After everyone left, he became the self-appointed caretaker of Gothic until 1928, when he helped a college professor purchase the town for RMBL.”

  The path widened a little and Collin walked alongside her, his arm skimming hers with nearly every step. “He lived up here alone for thirty-five years?”

  “Yep. Like you said—dude was hard-core.” She gestured toward the rising mountain in the near distance. “Just up the road, there’re some amazing waterfalls named after him. I’ve hand tinted at least a dozen pictures of Judd Falls, and they always sell pretty quickly.”

  Collin squeezed her elbow and gave her a playful glance. “Not nearly as fast as the ones of me and my bike will sell.”

  Ellie chuckled. “I have an order for exactly one, which is unlikely to ever hang in my gallery.”

  “But you’ll post it on your website with your other custom work, right?”

  She stifled a satisfied smile.

  He’s been on my website…

  She shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe?” He raised his eyebrows playfully. “And risk losing all that business?”

  “I’m afraid all the demand might overwhelm me.”

  “Take my word for it.” He grinned. “The struggle would be real.”

  Ellie imagined herself painting photo after photo of him.

  There could be worse things…

  “Want to make a bet?” A glint of challenge lit his eyes.

  “Probably not,” she teased.

  “When you start working on that picture for me, keep it on the easel in the front window of your gallery. You’ll sell more than one, no doubt.”

  Ellie rolled her eyes. “You haven’t even seen the one I’m going to paint.”

  “I don’t need to. Everything hanging in your gallery is killer.”

  Killer.

  Never a word she’d used to describe her artwork, but she kind of liked it—especially coming from him. Maybe she would’ve gotten selected to exhibit in the Thistle Bend Arts Festival if she’d gotten a little more aggressive with the adjectives on her application.

  “Do we have a bet?” he asked.

  “What’s on the line?”

  “If I win,” he said, “we go wilderness camping for a night.”

  She winced. And not just because she wasn’t big on camping. Spending a night alone with him in the middle of nowhere seemed a little beyond casual and friendly.

  “It’s an adventure—remember?” Collin gave her a gotcha grin.

  “And if I win…”

  What?

  She searched her suddenly blank mind for something she’d like to win from him, but all she could think of was—

  “We’ll stick with the wilderness theme.” She nodded, pleased with the idea that had popped into her head. “I’ll choose the spot, and you’ll do another photo shoot for me.”

  “No way.” He grimaced.

  “No way, meaning you’re chicken to take the bet?” she asked.

  Collin shook his head, his lips crooked up at one corner. “I meant ‘no way that’s what you want.’ You don’t do people pictures, remember?”

  “I don’t normally take bets either.” She snagged her fingers in the crook of his elbow and stood still, drawing him to a stop. Raising her chin, she held out her hand for him to shake. “You in?”

  “Get your marshmallows ready for roasting.” He shook her hand firmly. As he released it, he skimmed his fingertips over her palm, sending tingles swirling through her.

  Would it be so bad if he won?

  Ellie led him around a curve in the trail, and Brian’s cabin came into full view. Surrounded by bright wildflowers, it was set off by itself in front of a copse of spruce trees, and not too far from to Copper Creek. As they approached, she put some space between herself and Collin. No need to amp up Brian’s protective instincts. She had this thing with Collin under control.

  Brian got up from the Adirondack chair, crossed the small deck, and met them at the top of the stairs. His blue eyes danced as he gathered Ellie in a tight hug, his arms sinewy and strong. “There goes the neighborhood,” he teased.

  “It was long gone before I got here.” She tugged at the knot at the back of the blue-and-white bandanna he had tied around his head, his curly blondish hair flipping out from beneath it. Several days’ worth of scruff scraped against Ellie’s face as she pulled away. She stepped back and turned to Collin, yet stayed close to her brother’s side. “Brian London, this is Collin Cooper, from the EPA in Durham.”

  Brian shook Collin’s hand, and the guys gave each other a cordial once-over. They stood eye to eye at about six-one, but Collin’s military build outweighed Brian’s runner’s frame by about twenty pounds.

  Collin nodded. “Nice to meet you, man.”

  “For sure,” Brian said.

  Ellie caught Brian’s gaze, gave him a dramatic frown, and shook her head.

  “What?”

  “You had to wear a rodent shirt?”

  Brian’s light gray, long-sleeved T-shirt featured a charcoal-drawing rendition of what looked like a huge beaver sitting on its hind legs, with a big yellow circle on its stomach.

  “C’mon.” Brian grinned at Ellie. “Show a little respect.” He shifted his gaze to Collin, and flattened his palm over the yellow circle. “This is a yellow-bellied marmot—the star of over fifty-five years of continuous research here at RMBL.” With a pointed look at Ellie, he said, “Call them woodchucks or groundhogs—even whistle pigs. People get the wrong idea when you call them rodents.”

  “Whistle pigs?” Collin asked, seemingly amused.

  “They whistle or chirp when they’re scared,” Brian said. “It’s an alarm habit of the species.” He put his arm around Ellie and tugged her close. “Much more dignified than the squeals you used to make when you were eight and you thought bears were hiding under your bed.”

  He had a point, but she swatted him on the arm anyway.

  “Ellie says you’re working up at the Big Star site,” Brian said to Collin as he led them over to the pair of Adirondack chairs and gestured for them to sit.

  Ellie did so, and Collin joined her, while Brian hoisted himself up onto the deck railing and sat facing them.

  “Been up there for about ten days now,” Collin said. “They plugged the mine a while ago, but my team suspects more leaking.” He sounded much more official, now that he was talking about the mine. “It’s like playing Whack-A-Mole with these abandoned mines.” He swiped his hand across his forehead, and dragged it down his cheek. “Water has a hell of a way of finding the path of least resistance. Plug one tunnel, and the water builds until it finds the next available outlet. Then it ends up draining out of the mountain again. That’s what we’re trying to contain.”

  Ellie detected equal amounts of frustration and determination in his voice.

  “No doubt the mine’s leaking,” Brian said with confidence. “The insects in the streams are some of the best water-quality indicators around. They’re sensitive to changes, and never lie when it comes to revealing pollution that’s tough to measure. I’ll bet you my PhD that there are unacceptable levels of heavy metals in those streams, all the way down to the Lariat River. You’ve got mercury, arsenic, lead—and no telling what else or how m
uch.”

  Collin nodded. He was stuck in the middle, as far as Ellie could tell. The EPA hadn’t made the mess; they were there to clean it up. “We’ve got some retention ponds up there already, but there needs to be a broader solution. Hopefully, we’ll get it taken care of soon.”

  “I’m rooting for you,” Brian said. Ellie liked that he and Collin were on the same side. “I’m usually an easygoing guy.” He clutched the railing tightly. “But thinking about those chemicals leaching into the waterways from those old mining sites really pisses me off.”

  “I hear you,” Collin said. “I work with some great guys at the site. My days are full of heavy equipment noise, hard hats, and holes in the ground. I’m ready to get the thing shored up myself.”

  “So you’re here short term?” Brian asked with a big-brother edge that perhaps only Ellie heard.

  She tensed a little. Things were going well. There was no need for Brian to get protective of her now, even through seemingly polite questions. She narrowed her eyes at him, but he kept his gaze trained on Collin.

  “A few weeks, probably,” Collin said. “Until we get the situation at the Big Star under control. I rode my Ducati here, and I’m hoping for an early September road trip back home.”

  Brian’s eyes widened. “A Ducati, huh?”

  Collin grinned proudly.

  “Cool.” Brian shot Ellie a loaded glance. “You’ll definitely have a sweet ride home in September.”

  She’d swear Brian was dying to say if not sooner. He seemed to like Collin well enough, but in his mind no guy—not even one with a Ducati—was good enough for Ellie.

  “Me, too,” Ellie said sincerely, cuing Brian not to worry.

  There was no need to, really. She had no intention of getting involved with Collin…

  No matter how tempting he is.

  Chapter 5

  Collin had liked the hiking idea from the start, but trekking on the trails behind Ellie took the experience to a whole new level. The sweet rear view and the slight sway of her hips teased him for what seemed like miles as they made their way through aspen groves and across wildflower fields. Now they were headed up a craggy climb that occasionally required all fours, making the view of her even more tempting. The girl had stamina, that’s for sure. He did, too—an impressive amount, considering the thin air and the weight of the pack he was carrying. But following her had him so distracted that he’d forgotten to worry about breathing.