Page 24 of The Disasters of Dating (Love Connections #6)

POPPY

There are a million thoughts competing for attention in your brain. Undoubtedly, a few too many. Relax and take a deep breath. For the time being, focus on tidying the messy aspects of your life.

I pull my car into the parking lot of the visitors’ center at Brighton Ski Resort. It’s a short drive up Big Cottonwood Canyon. The parking lot is already pretty full, and I have to circle a few times before we find a newly vacated spot.

Keaton looks out the window and whistles. “Wow.” His head tilts to the side as he scans the mountain in front of us. “That’s a mountain.”

I smile and chuckle lightly. “Yeah, I guess it is.” I look over at him. “Should we go?”

He looks at me and then back at the mountain. “I think I may change my vote and say I want an easy hike.”

“Then I picked the right one.”

He stares at me. “Are you sure? That’s super high and super steep.”

I put my hand on top of his, which is gripping the edge of the seat. I’m rewarded for my action with little sparks of anticipation. “I promise. You’ll enjoy this hike.” I smile. “But if you’re really scared, you can hold my hand.”

His brows slowly rise. “Only if I’m really scared?”

I smile. “Maybe if you’re only a little scared, too.”

He nods. “Noted.” Pushing open his door, he hurries around the car and opens mine. “Shall we, Miss Ashcombe? ”

“We shall, Mr.—” I pause.

“Barrington,” he says, flashing me a grin.

“We shall, Mr. Barrington.” I scoot out of the car and grab my backpack from the back seat.

It has sandwiches, chips, drinks, and cookies for dessert.

After the Googles and I had our heart-to-heart, I had enough time to make the cookies from scratch.

Some might argue that I did not have time, as I still have not cleaned my bathroom or my closet.

But neither of them are going back to New Hampshire in a few days.

Slinging my pack onto my shoulder, I motion to the small building ahead of us. “Do you want to stop in at the visitors’ center or start the hike?”

“Do we need to grab a map?” he asks, lowering his sunglasses onto the edge of his nose.

While I love looking at his brown eyes, I have to admit that he looks very good in sunglasses.

Maybe it’s the whole package of shorts, a t-shirt (my imagination was not far off on that one), and his sturdy tennis shoes.

He looks like a model for the REI catalog.

No one should look this good without airbrushing or computerized fixing.

“I think there are maps in that box right there. So we can head to the trail or go into the visitor center first.”

“Whatever you want to do,” he shrugs.

“Hey, man, I live here.” I put both hands on my hips. “You’re the visitor. So we do what you want to do.”

He squints at me. “I think I kind of live here, too. I’d consider me a citizen.”

“Ehhh,” I make the sound of a buzzer. “Nope. If you’re living in a hotel, you’re still technically a visitor. I’m sorry. But those are the rules.” I give my best game show host impersonation.

He raises a brow at me. “According to who?”

I scoff. “Uh, everybody.”

“Not according to me. Are you saying I’m a nobody?” He gives me a fake hurt look.

I shake my head. “No. Weren’t you listening? I said you’re a vis.it.or.” I say the last word long and slow, like I’m talking to someone who doesn’t understand English.

His lips purse like he’s mad, and I start to laugh.

“Fine.” I say, snatching a map out of the small wooden box fastened to the front door. “I’ll decide, but I don’t want any complaints out of you. You had your chance, and you gave it away.” I fling my arm to the side in a flourish.

“No complaints. Check.” He says. We head out onto the boardwalk that surrounds Silver Lake.

It is the first part of our hike. I’m not sure you can technically call the boardwalk a hike.

It’s flat and, well, a boardwalk. It’s spelled out in the name.

It’s a walk. Even I, with my non-hiking knowledge, know that much.

The fields surrounding us are full of wildflowers and a mixture of green and tan grasses. Near the edge, on the other side of the lake, a moose walks slowly into the water. The boardwalk on that side is understandably empty.

“Oh my goodness, is that a moose?” Keaton looks out in wonder.

I put my hand on his arm as he walks to the edge of the boardwalk.

“Yes, and we should stay far away from him. Moose are mean. Especially if they feel threatened.” The moose would have to swim across the lake to reach us, but I take the ‘I’d rather be far away than sorry’ attitude.

“And they move much faster than you’d think by looking at their size. ”

“Yeah, I know.” His eyes are fastened on the large, brown animal with a rack to match.

“We have moose in New Hampshire. But it feels different here. I’ve only seen them walking on the side of the road.

This is like we’re present in a nature picture.

” He stands there a moment longer, watching the animal as it dips its head beneath the water and then jerks it up with a splash.

He turns and looks at me. “I once saw a moose kick a car.” He grimaces.

“A car?” I ask in surprise.

“Yeah, it honked at the car in front of it to get it moving. The moose didn’t appreciate the noise.”

I laugh. “Apparently, not.”

“Okay, this is an easy hike.” He frowns. “Which kind of disappoints me. I was rather looking forward to being scared.” He looks at my hand and wiggles his eyebrows several times. He’s a real Casanova.

“Don’t worry. This is only the beginning.” I open the brochure with the trail map and point to the red dotted line. “We’re going to hike this way to Lake Solitude.”

He stares down at it. “That looks long.”

I shake my head. “It’s only a couple of miles at the most. I think it will only take forty-five minutes or so to get to the lake. We can eat our picnic there. Then, depending on the time, we can either walk around the lake or head back.”

He nods. “Okay.” He reaches for the backpack. “Let me take that. You don’t need to carry our dinner.”

“I’m okay, really,” I say, but he takes it anyway. As he slides his arms through, I notice how his chest tightens. Smediums suit him very well.

He clears his throat, and I jerk my eyes up. My face heats as I realize I’m staring at his chest. I would slap a guy for doing that to me. But Keaton grins and waves his arm in front of him. “Shall we?”

I nod and start walking.

“Can I look at the map?” he asks.

I hand it over to him, but he isn’t looking at the map. He’s reading the little historical information on the other side of the page. He looks up. “Who’s Brigham Young? I think I’ve heard the name before, but I don’t remember why.”

I put my hands behind my back as we follow the well-trodden path through the trees. A breeze cools my skin. “How much do you know about the settling of Utah?”

He grimaces. “Not much.”

I give him a side eye. “And you call yourself a citizen of the great state of Utah.” My head shakes, and I use my best teacher voice. “It’s disgraceful. That’s what it is.”

He lifts his hands in front of him. “Okay, you win. I’m a visitor.”

I give him a little hip bump and smile. “Then let me educate you so when you do become a citizen, you know your stuff.”

As we walk, I tell him about Utah’s history and some of the oddities found within the state (our strange affinity for fry sauce and Jell-o, just to name a few).

I don’t think they’re that odd, but people coming from outside the state do.

The trail isn’t too strenuous, even though it’s taking us higher up the mountain.

But we have to watch where we walk because of all the tree roots poking up through the dirt.

Our history lesson lasts until we reach Lake Solitude. It’s about half the size of Silver Lake. We walk to the far side and find a couple of flattish rocks to sit on as we eat.

“I’m impressed with your knowledge of the history.” Keaton slides the backpack off his shoulders and hands it over to me.

“Don’t you know the history of New Hampshire? I mean, you guys have colonial and revolutionary history. That’s super cool.” I pull out some hand sanitizing wipes and hand one to him.

“Yeah, I guess. But we learn our history with both state history and American history. If we don’t get it by then, we’re probably a lost cause.” He settles onto the rock next to me. “You seem to know a lot about history. And not just Utah’s.”

I swallow. “Yeah, my dad was a history teacher before he became a principal. We used to talk about history and politics around the dinner table. It wasn’t my favorite when I was little. But as I’ve gotten older, I love history. Utah’s, American, even world history. It’s fascinating. ”

He tips his head to the side. “Then why are you getting a business degree? Why not get a history degree and teach like your dad?”

I stiffen slightly and shrug. “I don’t like other people’s children. You know? I think I’ll love my own. But strangers’ kids? Meh. I can take them or leave them.” I look away because he’s looking at me like I’ve sprouted feathers. “Teaching isn’t my thing.”

He grins. “Marking up merchandise a ridiculous amount is more your thing?”

I laugh. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“I think you’re wrong, by the way.” He leans back. “Teaching is your thing. But you can do whatever you want. I just wanted you to know that you’d be a great teacher.”

I lick my lips. “Thanks.”

He claps his hands together. “Now, what’s for dinner?”

I pull out a sandwich-sized food storage container and hand it over to him. “BLTs and chips. I hope that’s okay.”

His eyes widen. “That sounds delicious. I’m starving!” He pulls off the lid and takes out half his sandwich. He lifts it to his mouth but pauses. “Sorry. I’m acting like a total caveman. I can wait for you to get your food out.”

“It’s fine, really. Start eating. Mine is right here.

” I wave my container in the air to prove I’ll be eating momentarily.

We’re both silent as we eat our sandwiches.

Finally, Keaton brushes his hands on his shorts and looks out over the lake.

“It’s so quiet here. Who’d ever guess that Salt Lake is just down the hill? ”

I nod. “I know. It’s nice to come up here in the winter.

” His brows raise, and I correct myself.

“Not here, here. But up this canyon. Sometimes the inversion can get pretty bad in the valley, but the skies are clear up here.” Then I backpedal because I never like for Utah to be seen in a bad light.

“I mean, it’s not always bad in the valley.

Just sometimes when there’s a long stretch between winter storms.”

He smiles. “Are you on retainer for the Salt Lake Travel Council?”

“No.” I lift my shoulders. “But I love Utah. So I don’t want people to get an unfavorable impression.”

“Would you ever move away from here?” He plays with a piece of leaf that he picked off his shirt.

“Permanently?” I lift a shoulder. “I don’t know.”

He nods. “But you’ll travel, right?”

My eyes widen. “Oh, I would love to travel.” I bite my lip. “Someday, at least. ”

“So you work at the airport but never fly anywhere?”

I shrug, but can’t quite meet his eyes. “For right now. There hasn’t been the time or extra money to do that lately. Everything I earn goes toward school.”

“How long until you graduate?” He breaks the leaf apart along the vein lines.

“Two semesters.”

His brows go up. “Oooh. That’s soon. Then what? Start building your newsstand empire?”

I laugh. “I think grad school first.” He’s one of the first people I’ve told about it. Not even my cousins know that I’m applying.

“What schools are you applying to?”

I swallow. “Just the U and maybe BYU.” I glance up at him from beneath my lashes. “I want to stay local.”

He nods but doesn’t ask questions. At least not at first. But then his head tilts to the side. “It’s because of your mom, right?”

How had he guessed that? I nod. “Yeah. It was hard on her when Brody and Sadie moved out. I don’t think I can do that to her.”

“What will you do when you get married? Or do you plan to have her move in with you? Or are you and your husband going to move in with her?”

There was no mocking—or at least not in the first part. Maybe there was a hint of it with the last part. But it was an honest question.

I lift a shoulder. “I don’t know. I’ve never gotten close enough to consider it.”

Something passes over his eyes, but I don’t know what it means. Maybe I just ensured we stay in the permanent friend zone. The thought makes my stomach tie in knots, and I don’t wish to analyze why.

He looks out toward the horizon. “Maybe we should clean up? If we hurry, we can walk around the lake once before we have to head back.”

I grab a few cookies out of the container and shove everything else back into the backpack. “Probably a good idea. I’m sure we still have a few hours before dark, but it’s better that we give ourselves plenty of time.”

I hand him a cookie as we follow the trail around the lake.

“Mmm. These are good. Did you make them?” He looks down at me.

My face warms at his praise. “Yep. I made everything.”

His brows go up. “Gorgeous and can cook? You’re like hitting the girlfriend lottery.” His eyes widen. “Not that I’m calling you my girlfriend.”

I smile. For some reason, his awkwardness makes me feel more at ease. “It’s okay. I’m a girl, and we’re friends. It fits.”

He smiles back at me as he takes my hand. “Poppy, I think I’m feeling scared.”

I squeeze his hand. “Don’t worry, Keaton. I’ll protect you.”