Page 45 of The Love Bus

FLUTTER CREEK FALLS

T he trail was nothing like the ones we’d covered in Moab.

There, the world had been wide open, vast and sunbaked, all red cliffs and dusty switchbacks, the sky so big it made you feel incredibly insignificant.

Following the trail to Flutter Creek Falls, everything felt closer, cool and shaded.

Intimate.

A smallish stream rushed parallel to the trail, gurgling and bubbling like it was encouraging us to keep going.

Every so often, the aspen canopy would shimmer as the wind stirred the treetops.

Moss grew thick in patches, and in a few spots, downed logs formed precarious bridges across the rushing water.

We were climbing, not too steeply, but enough that my legs were starting to notice. Just enough that I was acutely aware of my breathing. Of Noah’s breathing, just behind me.

“This was a great idea,” I said, tossing the words casually over my shoulder.

“Haven’t you figured out yet that all my ideas are?” Noah’s voice came easily, a little closer than I expected.

“Cocky,” I laughed.

“Just accurate.”

I glanced back with a mock-glare but froze mid-step when I caught him looking directly at my butt. He didn’t even pretend to be embarrassed.

Instead, gorgeous eyes met mine, completely unapologetic. His mouth quirked into a grin.

I turned back around, heat rushing to my face—not from exertion.

“The awesome beauty of nature,” he added.

“Uh-huh.”

He laughed then, low and quiet. “Are you blushing?”

“No, I’m hiking,” I corrected. “I always get flushed when I exercise.”

The thing was, I’d gone longer than I could remember since I’d felt this way. I’d been in a supposedly romantic relationship. Engaged. But I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt…

Appreciated?

Sexy? All these feelings…

“I’ll be sure to remember that next time.”

Why did it feel like he wasn’t talking about just exercise?

Maybe because I wasn’t thinking about just exercise?

We walked on in silence for a bit. Except for our quiet footsteps. And the water. And the birds.

And my heartbeat.

When the trail widened at a bend, I stepped to the side and pulled out my water bottle. Noah unslung his pack like a total Boy Scout and handed me a granola bar without asking, then opened one for himself. He tilted his bottle toward me like a toast.

“To the Love Bus,” he said.

“Hydrate or die-drate,” I replied.

Our bottles clunked together.

I took a sip and stole a glance at him as he tucked his bottle back into his pack. While I felt drops of perspiration rolling down my back, he looked as though this was nothing more strenuous than a casual stroll.

I trailed my gaze up to his shoulders. Broad. Solid. Distractingly delicious under the cling of his thin T-shirt.

And then he lifted his arms in a long stretch, causing the hem of his shirt to rise, baring that sliver of skin I’d been lucky enough to glimpse before, and then a little more than a sliver.

Just below his abs, the faint V-shaped lines cut in deep, disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans like some kind of anatomical treasure map.

The Adonis belt. That’s what it was called.

I’d seen it on fitness models—a few thirst traps.

Leo was lean, but he’d been soft around the middle.

But Noah…

I’d always believed my catnip was forearms but…uh. I might need to rethink that. There were just so many parts of Noah to drool over…

My stomach did a small pirouette. I couldn’t look away.

Why would I?

He caught me looking.

Of course, he did.

But instead of saying something smug, he just tipped his head, his eyes suddenly burning.

“Great scenery up here,” he said casually, like we were talking about the trees.

“Mmm.” I nodded, too fast. “Very, uh…scenic.”

His smile curled slowly at the edges, and it hit me—he knew exactly what he was doing.

I liked it. Maybe too much.

“I forgot I could do this,” I murmured.

“You forgot you could flirt, Faraday?”

I blinked. “Um…it’s been a while.”

He smiled. “So you are flirting.”

“Am I?” I totally was.

“Whatever it is,” he said. “Don’t stop.”

Sweet cream and cinnamon toast, what is happening?

“Come on, Dr. Grady. We don’t have all day.”

He just chuckled and gestured for me to lead the way again.

It was something Leo had never really done. I mean, I’d always found myself following him, hurrying to keep up.

I let the thought go, not wanting to ruin what was quickly becoming my favorite day of the trip. I started up the path again, the sound of rushing water growing louder with each step, clear now that we were getting closer to the falls.

“Careful here,” Noah said, reaching out before I went sliding over a little slick patch. His hand found the small of my back—hot, deliberate.

“I’m good,” I said quickly, but I didn’t move away.

He didn’t either.

I came to a sudden stop. It was so much better than I’d imagined.

Especially with Noah pressed up behind me—both hands on my arms now—as if holding me back from walking straight into the water.

Definitely the best day of the trip so far.

Water thundered from a cleft in the rock wall twenty feet up, curving in a wide arc before crashing into the pool below. The cliff face was lined with narrow crevices, wind-bent evergreens growing sideways from the stone, their roots clinging to life.

Where the water hit, it churned in a frothy swirl before easing into a deep, green-blue pool. The outer edges stilled into ripples. In a few places, I could see straight to the bottom—stones in muted pinks, grays, and soft corals, arranged like some underwater mosaic.

The breeze lifted again, sweeping cool mist across my face and arms. I shivered, goosebumps rising. Not from the cold—well, not just from the cold.

I glanced back at Noah, who’s eyes were wide, and…quiet. When he dropped his gaze to me, I could just feel it.

A moment of awe. Of shared wonder .

I had no words.

When I turned back to look at this majestic scene, the rocks, shaped like natural steps leading to the falls, seemed to beckon me forward.

I slipped off my backpack, set it gently on the ground, and took a careful step.

As promised by the saleslady back in Grand Junction, my shoes gripped the damp stone with confidence.

No slipping, no hesitation—just steady footing as I picked my way along the jagged, winding edge of the pool, mist whispering around my ankles.

“Careful, Faraday,” Noah called, his voice raised over the thunder of the falls.

“I’ve got this!” I shouted without looking back.

And I did.

I felt it in my bones.

Limitless.

Like I’d left behind the version of me that hesitated, that asked permission.

Like I could climb anything. Be anyone.

A girl who knows herself, breathing deep, heart wide open.

Limitless!

Then I landed on the next rock.

It shifted.

My breath hitched. My knee wobbled. My heart lurched, and I sucked in a sharp gasp as my brand new grippy shoes…

Lost their grip.

My arms pinwheeled, scrambling for balance—there was one fleeting second where I thought, maybe, I could catch myself.

But then?—

I went in.

I went under.

The plunge was immediate, the cold hitting me everywhere as the pool swallowed me whole. A burst of bubbles escaped my mouth—half breath, and the half scream I didn’t even have time to let out—and then I was kicking hard, instinct rising before fear could.

I broke the surface, sputtering, coughing, blinking through the water clinging to my lashes. Every inch of me prickled with cold, but I was okay. I could swim. I’d learned in the ocean, for soufflé’s sake.

And then, he was there.

He’d jumped in after me.

His shirt was gone, his hair slicked back, water streaming down his face as his eyes—dark, focused, searching—raked over me like a physical touch.

“You okay?”

I nodded, breathless, still treading water. “Y-yeah. Just cold.”

“You scared the hell out of me,” he said, voice low and tight.

“I didn’t mean to. I was just”—my teeth chattered—“having a moment.”

I expected him to turn around in disgust, to chastise me for being so stupid, but instead, he moved closer. “A good one or a bad one?”

A little smile danced on his lips.

“Good,” I said. “Definitely good.”

He was standing somehow, steady and tall, with the frigid water hitting just below his shoulders, his body like my own personal island.

We’d just meant to go on a little hike, and yet here we were, shivering and soaked to the bone, at the base of a freezing cold waterfall.

So I did the only logical thing a person could do.

I started laughing.

Half joy, half shock, fueled by some sort of crazy adrenaline.

I hadn’t felt like laughing, really laughing, in so long. Not just since the breakup, but going back further, to I didn’t know when.

And I hadn’t even realized I’d been so…unhappy?

The realization squeezed my chest, and good gravy , like someone had flipped a switch in me, I was crying.

Not ugly sobs, just…release. Water streaming from my eyes just as fast as it poured over the rocks above us.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay.” Noah’s arms slid around me, pulling me into him.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

He pulled me closer, and I wrapped my legs around his waist like it was the most natural thing in the world—like my body had decided before my brain had time to weigh in.

His hands were on my back, keeping me from drifting away. Keeping me from sinking.

But then I realized…

My shorts had hiked up, and there was no space between us—just skin against skin, my bare legs flush against his hips.

And suddenly I wasn’t crying anymore.

I could feel the solid slope of his hipbones beneath my legs, the smooth firmness of his lower back where my fingers clung without thinking.

His skin was impossibly warm. How was he warm in glacial water?

But he was. Heated and hard and real in a way that made me want to press closer. And maybe grind a little.

I tilted my head back and blinked up at him through the mist.

And when his gaze dropped to my mouth, I noticed drops of water clinging to his lashes.

I felt the subtle shift of his body as he adjusted his footing, the flex of muscle beneath me. It was intimate. Consuming.

We were close. So close.

Then—

He touched his mouth to the corner of mine. Tentative. Testing.

I turned, just enough?—

I kissed him.

He kissed me.

Even in the cold, I melted into him like butter on a skillet.

He drew back a little, and I could feel the hitch in his breath. “I didn’t plan this.” His voice was gravelly.

“I know,” I said, just staring back at him.

And then he leaned in again, slower this time. Deeper.

His mouth moved against mine like he was memorizing the shape of it. Like he’d been holding back and finally let go.

My fingers slid into his wet hair, and the sound of the falls disappeared.

There was just him.

Just this.

I kissed him back like my life depended on it.

And in that moment, I didn’t want it to stop.

Ever.