Page 19 of Boston (Coral Canyon: Cowboys #12)

Cora turned her back on him. “In fact, will you get my hat and sunscreen out right now? I want to get ready before we get too far.”

“Surely you’re used to the sun,” he said, as he unzipped her pack and pulled out the items she’d requested. “Being in Miami and all. I remember when I’d go visit my dad, I thought I’d moved to the surface of the sun.” He laughed, and Cora turned to face him to see that joy on his face.

“Do you miss your dad?” she asked.

“Oh, are we doing a hard question day today too?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, that’s a normal question.” She twisted the cap on her spray sunscreen and started coating her arms.

“I mean, I guess so,” Boston said. “He’s never really been a big part of my life to begin with, and he’s constantly made other things more important than me. So I don’t know. I have a daddy here, you know?”

Cora watched him, understanding that emotions and feelings and situations like this definitely weren’t simple. The complexities of life rarely were. And then add in the enormity of being human and all they could feel and believe, and everything became a mess.

“I miss my dad,” she said. “He’s been gone for about eight years, but he was awesome.

He loved this place, and he loved the mountains, and he loved wildlife, and he loved us.

” She sprayed sunscreen onto her hands and rubbed it over her neck and ears.

She did her face and settled her sunglasses in place, then put her visor on and handed the sunscreen can to Boston.

“You’re not going to do your legs?” he asked.

She looked down where she wore a black pair of capri exercise pants with purple panels down the sides. Her tank top matched the violet, and she shook her head. “I never do my legs. Will you make sure I got my shoulders and neck in the back?”

She shrugged out of her pack and let Boston finish, his hands searing hot against her skin. He wore a light gray T-shirt, a pair of basketball shorts with his hiking boots, and that sexy cowboy hat. He put sunscreen on his forearms, the back of his neck and his face, and handed her the can again.

“I think we’re ready.”

“I don’t have any food,” Cora said.

“Sweetheart, I told you I’d bring the food.”

“Yes, but you also told me you would never call me sweetheart.”

Boston tipped his head back and sent the most delicious laugh into the sky. “All right,” he said. “Come on, let’s go. We’re definitely ready.”

Within a half an hour, Cora could see why Boston had been hired to work with groups.

He matched his pace to hers, never once making her feel like she should move faster or that she was causing a problem.

He pointed out rough spots in the trail, where to grab on when they made steep ascents, and the best places to step as they came down.

Cora enjoyed being outside in the sunshine and wilderness, seemingly just the two of them left in the world.

She liked listening to him talk about his family, the places he’d visited, and a quirky story or two about some guests and parties at the lodge.

He detailed Harry’s wedding with Belle, where they’d rented the entire facility at Silver Sage and locked the gate three hours before the ceremony.

She found herself opening up to him more and more, telling him about why she’d gone to Miami. “It was the place the most different from Wyoming,” she said. “And I wanted a completely different experience for my college education.”

She’d enjoyed it so much she’d stayed, having friends that felt like family there. She learned a lot working in the boutique hotel there that she could adapt to the resort and lodge here.

“But you always knew you’d come back to Wyoming,” he said, not truly asking.

“Yeah,” Cora said, a hint of resignation in her voice. “I always knew I’d come back, but it still wasn’t easy.”

“No, a change like that hardly ever is,” Boston said.

“You didn’t go to college?” she asked.

“No, ma’am,” he said. “Well, I went for one year, which was just long enough to know it wasn’t for me. I moved back home, and Harry gave me a shot managing his online tour for his last album.”

Cora nodded though she hiked behind him and he couldn’t see her.

“From there, I realized I really liked managing details, and people, and setting things up, and watching amazing events happen at the end of all that hard work.”

“That’s amazing,” she murmured.

“So I started looking for jobs in hotels and resorts, and Jackson Hole is full of them.”

“Yeah, it sure is. Different kinds than here,” she said.

“I have a cousin who lives there, so I moved in with him, and I got a job at this high-end luxury hotel, but it was more office work than I wanted. So I kept looking for other stuff. When the job came up at Silver Sage, honestly, it felt like God had opened the heavens and created the job just for me.”

Cora liked listening to the low rumble of his voice, and she thought a lot about the things he’d said about his beliefs and convictions, his values and the way he loved God.

A pinch started in her heart. She wanted to move faster and be further along than she was, and she had to remind herself that her journey wouldn’t—and couldn’t—look like anyone else’s.

“I’m really glad you like it there,” she said.

“It’s pretty much the dream job,” Boston said. “I mean, besides owning my own ranch and running that.” He pointed to his right. “There’s mud over here. Skirt to the left.”

Cora did what he said, though she would have seen the mud just fine on her own. She hiked with her eyes down, after all, something her father had taught her from a young age. She did try to look up every now and then, so she could enjoy the magnificent scenery she and Boston walked through.

Once she made it past the shady, muddy spot, she asked, “Are we stopping soon?” Her stomach growled as if to punctuate the question, and Boston turned and walked backward. How he did that on a rough mountain trail, Cora didn’t know, but the man seemed to be able to navigate like a goat.

“The spot I had in mind is another half-mile,” he said. “Maybe three-quarters. Can you make it that far?”

“Yeah.” She stopped and fumbled for the tube that connected to her water bladder. “I just need a drink.”

“I’ve got beef jerky and fruit leather,” he said.

She shook her head. “After you’ve been bragging about your grandma’s sandwiches? No way.” She grinned at him. “I’m saving up for lunch.”

Boston grinned at her. “You’ve been drinking enough?”

“Yes, Daddy ,” she said in a deadpan.

“All right.” He raised one hand as if to say, You don’t gotta be like that.

Cora didn’t mind him looking after her in some aspects, but she didn’t need him to micromanage what she ate and drank and when.

About twenty minutes later, he said, “Here’s our picnic spot,” and a beautiful meadow opened up as Cora took the last steps to join him at the top of the rise.

“Wow,” she said, her breath coming in spurts as they’d just climbed a particularly steep hill. “This is incredible.”

“It sure is,” Boston said. “This is one of my favorite places in these mountains. If we go over this way.” He directed her to the left, and Cora could barely get herself moving again to follow him. “There’s a lake down below; it’s the best view in all of Wyoming.”

She followed him the one hundred yards along the edge of the meadow where wild flowers still bloomed, their yellow, purple and red heads poking up through the green grass.

“And we’re more than halfway now,” he said. “We’ve only got about two miles left once we leave here.”

“Bless you,” she said, as he dropped his backpack to the ground and unhooked something from the side of it. In a matter of one minute, he had two collapsible stools set up, the top of his backpack open, and was lifting a large plastic container out of the top.

“Sit, Cora. We’re gonna eat.”

She sat, still trying to catch her breath, unsure if it was because of the altitude, or the climb, or the stunningly beautiful man who’d packed lunch for her, or the view of the crystal blue lake below.

“How many people do you think have seen this spot on earth?” she asked. “It’s so pretty.”

“I don’t know,” he said. “This is our Crystal Mountain Lake hike, and it doesn’t get booked as often as I would like it to.”

“You have it listed as moderate to advanced,” she said. “Maybe that’s why. Families probably want a beginning hike.”

“Would you call that a beginning hike?” he asked.

“No, sir.” She smiled at him as he passed her a sandwich. “Oh, what have we got here?”

Boston sighed the sigh of the century as he sank onto the stool next to her, then half-rose and adjusted it a little bit further away. His knee still barely touched hers, and Cora wondered if he’d done that on purpose or not.

“These are my grandmother’s famous chicken spam sandwiches,” he said. “There’s a little bit of chopped boiled egg in there too.”

Cora unsealed the top of her bag and pulled out half of the sandwich.

“That bread is homemade,” he said. “From my cousin Joey. She did a couple years at culinary school, and she’s a great baker who sells pies and bread year-round.”

The slight scent of sourdough and mayo and a little bit of dill rolled up to meet Cora’s nose, and her stomach practically screamed at her.

“This looks amazing.” She sank her teeth into the sandwich.

There was definitely pickle juice in this, and the tartness of it exploded through her mouth, tamed by the creamy mayo.

The salty spam came after that, with the more mild chicken and the texture of the hard boiled egg ending the magnificent bite.

“I love this,” she said around her mouth full of food. That caused Boston to laugh, one of Cora’s favorite sounds.

“I’m glad, sweetheart.” He pulled out his sandwich as well, and they ate as they drank in the view of the glorious Teton mountains, the big, blue open sky above, the dark green pine trees punctuating the slate gray mountains and sky and clouds. All of it filled Cora with wonder.

“I can’t believe I didn’t want to come back here,” she said, also not quite believing that the words had come out of her mouth.

“Coral Canyon is not even close to Miami,” Boston said. He gave her a bag of ridged potato chips, a couple of long dill pickle spears that were as cold as ice, and a chocolate pudding cup as if she were five years old. The whole lunch charmed her, and Cora adored the simplicity of it all.

Too soon, he started packing up, and her legs protested as she got back to her feet. “I really thought I could do six miles.”

Boston looked at her sharply. “Oh, you’re gonna do six miles. I can’t carry you, Cora-Cat.”

She grinned at him, moved over into his personal space, and wrapped her fingers around one strap of his backpack. “You can’t? You’re so tall and big and strong.”

He gazed down at her, and she noticed when his eyes dropped to her mouth and came back up. “Nevertheless,” he said in that gruff, almost hoarse voice he used when she had unsettled him. “You’ll have to walk the rest of the way yourself.”

“Oh, all right,” Cora said, grinning at him.

They set off again, and she focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Their conversation had dwindled a little bit, which she didn’t mind. Finally, Boston said, “Here we are.”

She looked up and picked up the pace as she walked about ten feet behind him. He’d stopped at the edge of the trees, and he moved to the right as she came up behind him. A wide square cabin appeared in her view and relief flagged through Cora mightily.

“Wow,” she said. “This looks amazing.”

“Does it?” Boston asked, plenty of incredulity in his voice. “Do you not see that tree jammed down into the back corner of the roof?”

Cora frantically searched, and it sure didn’t take her long to find what he meant. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Boston said darkly. “Let’s go see what the damage is and if we can even stay here tonight.”