Cloudy With A Chance Of Love

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Cloudy With A Chance Of Love Page 2

by E M Lindsey


  He’d missed the years he had as an adult to enjoy his dad’s life and adventures, and had shown up only a handful of hours before he’d taken his last breath. It was a tough thing to live with, but in a way, he was letting the final tour be his closure.

  Whatever came next, he just wanted to know it would make his old man proud.

  The sound of a car pulling up, the faint beep of a key fob alarm, took him out of his head. It was time to get started, and he knew he couldn’t procrastinate any longer. Taking a breath, he turned on his heel and prepared to start his very last day.

  Chapter 2

  Spencer and the two bears

  Spencer glared at the phone. Even though he wasn’t on video chat, he could imagine his perfect pout giving Dillon the guilt trip of a lifetime. “Come on, Dillon. I spent six hours testing bug sprays for this trip. I spent days looking for boots. You can’t back out on me. I need you there.”

  “Just cancel, go to a spa, take some pictures of yourself near some trees, and no one will be the wiser.”

  “Dillon, come on. You know I can’t do that. And you and Harrison were supposed to go with me. But Harrison busted his foot and you had to go and get a stupid job.”

  “Hey, it’s a stupid dream job that I almost didn’t get, that they didn’t want to give me, but they were between a rock and a hard place. So now I’ve got to go in there and fake it until I make it.”

  “How many times did you practice that in front of the mirror?” Spencer eyed the pile of gear he’d set out to pack and sighed. The trip was two days, one night. Through some trees. Up a trail or whatever. To the campsite, then down the rapids, and at the end of the road, there would be goats. Though Spencer loved goats, he couldn’t have them in the city. He could, however, have as many cats as he chose to, and right now his shelter housed thirty cats of various ages.

  “Listen, just cancel. No one will blame you.”

  Spencer swallowed his annoyance. The only reason he’d booked this ridiculous trip was the taunts and the teasing from his friends that he never did anything outside his comfort zone. The comments about the satin bed sheets on the California king-sized bed in the middle of his comfort zone had sealed the deal. That, and the goats.

  “I’m going.”

  “Spence… come on,” Dillon started to laugh and Spencer clenched his fists. “You’ll die out there.”

  “I’m going. I have to pack.” Spencer hung up on Dillon and silenced his phone. So what if he liked being warm and dry, indoors, and away from bugs and animals that could kill him. That didn’t make him a joke. It didn’t matter that he’d picked this particular tour because it was only two days, as opposed to the five-day excursions he’d seen. The hikes weren’t anything he couldn’t manage, and he could deal with sleeping in a tent for a night. And then there was the promise of the painted goat. Spencer had never seen one before and he was beyond thrilled to get the chance. He’d even taken a photography class in preparation.

  Fitting everything he’d purchased into his backpack proved to be impossible and Spencer eyed the checklist provided by the website. He had over-shopped a little, but he wanted to be adequately prepared. Spring was a fickle season and the weather could change in seconds, going from warm and sunny to impossibly cold and wet. There was no harm in being prepared, but in the end, Spencer stuck to the list, indulging only in a rain-proof tent, an extra bottle of bug spray, and an extra battery for his camera.

  Spencer packed an extra bag; he’d be staying at a hotel near the tour company the night before the trip and he’d planned to spend the night there after the tour was over. The drive to the Bimisi River preserve took five hours, and there was no way he wanted to tackle that after camping all night and hiking all day.

  Five hours in the car all by himself didn’t sound great at first, but when he realized he could listen to Celine on repeat and sing at the top of his lungs with no one to complain, it soon softened his opinion of solo road trips. It didn’t hurt that his new Prius was a dream to drive, and being out of the city had its appeal.

  The day was unseasonably warm, and Spencer pulled up to a gas station with his windows rolled down. The sheer volume of his music turned a few heads and Spencer dialed it down, then rolled his windows up.

  He strolled into the gas station and grabbed a bottle of apple juice, then pulled out a five dollar bill at the register. “Where’s the Bimisi River Inn?”

  “Straight down the road. It’s the first right after Carl’s.”

  “What’s Carl’s?”

  The cashier dropped a pile of change into his hand. “You can’t miss it. Did you need a receipt?”

  “No, thank you. And thanks for the directions.”

  Spencer climbed into his car and eased out back onto the road. Sure enough, Carl’s was impossible to miss. If you didn’t happen to see the gigantic sign, there was also the larger-than-life steer head on the roof of the building. Spencer made a mental note to take a picture before he left town.

  The Bimisi River Inn was a far more subtle affair. In truth, as far as cheap motels went, it was charming. The flower boxes had some early spring blooms in them, and the grounds were lush and green and well kept. Spencer eased into a parking space and went inside to check in and get his room key.

  His room turned out to be around the back, so Spencer drove to the other side of the building. The rear of the hotel was pressed up against the trees, and Spencer looked up at the rolling hills that surrounded him. He almost couldn’t believe that a place this majestic existed a mere five hours from the city.

  The city air always felt sticky to Spencer. Like all the pollutants weighed it down and it clung to him. His hair. His skin. But out here, Spencer was surprised to find himself enjoying seeing so many trees in one location.

  The scenery didn’t stop him from dropping his bags onto the loveseat that sat across from the queen-sized bed and pulling out his cell phone.

  “They’re fine,” Martina answered. “I swear to God, you were here this morning. You’re on vacation, Spencer.”

  “I had to check on my babies.” Spencer sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. “Is Burt still harassing Junior?” Spencer’s upbringing had afforded him many luxuries as a child, and his trust fund allowed him to do whatever he wanted as an adult. His passion was his cat sanctuary. He took cats in from all over the place. Some had been strays. Some were brought over from shelters who couldn’t find placements for them.

  “They’re the same as when you left this morning. The shelter over on tenth called, though. They have an old cat they can’t home. He’s not the friendliest thing.”

  “Take him. Put him in one of the solitary habitats, then have Gene come by and look at him as soon as he can.”

  “Already done. I told you, Spencer, I’ve got this.”

  He stayed on the line for a few more minutes, needling Martina for more information about his cats. Only when she threatened not to take any pictures did he get off the phone.

  After a trek to Carl’s, where he ate his weight in steak, he went back to his hotel and unpacked his sleeping bag and pillow from the trunk of the car. He pulled the pillows off the bed and set them on the loveseat. He stripped the blanket off the bed and unrolled his sleeping bag on top of the sheets.

  The more time Spencer spent alone, the more he realized he was glad his friends hadn’t been able to make it. They were great guys, but sometimes they took things too far. Dillon was the nicest of the bunch and he’d have been cool to travel with, but as Spencer undressed and climbed into his sleeping bag, he thought maybe it was for the best that Dillon didn’t come.

  Spencer was up early the next morning and made good use of the coffee pot while he did a final check to make sure he had all his gear. Then, just as the sun started to light the sky, he hopped into his car and headed up the mountain toward the starting point of the tour.

  Nothing could’ve prepared Spencer for the long and winding drive up the mountain to The Painted Goat tour. The road didn�
�t offer the smoothest of drives, and there were so many hairpin corners and switchbacks that Spencer lost all sense of direction. When the sign for the ranger station came into focus, he breathed a sigh of relief.

  He’d spent months waiting for this day, just to have it done and over with. The whole thing had been booked during a rage. None of his friends thought he’d go through with it. A day in the wilderness, surrounded by bugs and trees and potentially deadly animals. They expected him to cancel and spend the day at a spa like Dillon had suggested, and he wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction.

  Spencer got out of his car and unlocked the trunk. He grabbed his backpack, attaching the tent, and slid his arms through the straps. He could do this. It was only two days and one night. The possibility of getting eaten by a bear was almost nothing.

  Speaking of bears, Spencer thought, when a gorgeous man with a stern expression turned to the sound of Spencer arming his car alarm. From the grey sprinkled in his hair and beard, the man had to be over forty, and Spencer could tell he worked out in the wilderness for a living. Everything about him screamed mountain man. The thick arms. Tree trunk legs. The flannel. Dear God, the flannel. Spencer never knew he possessed a flannel fetish, but the whole lumberjack look really worked for this guy.

  Spencer took a breath and approached the man with a lot more confidence than he felt. “I’m Spencer Kawa. Are you Collin?”

  The guy nodded and extended a hand. Spencer took it, noting the rough calluses and the strength in the man’s grip.

  “We’re just waiting on the rest of the group, then we can get acquainted and hit the trail.” The man’s accent threw Spencer at first, but then he realized that it was definitely English. Before Spencer could pry about Collin’s origins, another vehicle pulled into the parking lot.

  Spencer turned his head and watched as a single person climbed out of the vehicle. He grabbed a pack and slung it over his shoulder like it weighed nothing.

  “Is this where the tour is meeting?” the guy asked.

  “Sure is.” Collin said. “I’m Collin Roscoe.”

  “Max Caldwell.”

  Spencer watched the exchange and he silently thought that today might not be the worst day of his life. He might be in the wilderness with strangers, but at least two of them were good-looking.

  “So,” Spencer said. “How many others are we waiting for?”

  “One more, I think,” Collin said and Max shook his head.

  “It’s just me,” Max said, staring at his feet. “Trent, uh...he’s not coming.”

  Spencer was relieved to not be the only person who came alone. Then he realized that this was the entire group. He didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse about the whole thing.

  Chapter 3

  Max is not a Daddy

  “It’s just the three of us?” Max lifted a dark brow and shifted his attention from the rugged guide and the...less rugged twink standing beside him.

  “Seems like it,” the guide said, stepping forward. “Normally I work with a partner, but since the tour’s just the two of you, I’ll be your guide for the duration. D’you two know each other?”

  “No,” Max said. “Uh, I’m Max.”

  “Spencer,” the twink said, sidling up next to Collin and bumping him out of the way. He outstretched a slender arm and presented the top of his hand to Max.

  Max took it awkwardly and tried to turn it into a normal handshake, but Spencer fought him on it until Max gave in. He couldn’t even figure out why Spencer was going camping and whitewater rafting in the first place. He would have guessed someone like this kid would have been dragged to the outdoors kicking and screaming, but here he was, seemingly willingly and all on his own.

  “Is it really just him?” Max asked after taking his hand back.

  “We had some cancellations,” Collin offered with a helpless shrug.

  Max darted his gaze back toward Collin and had to quickly look down at the ground. Collin was handsome, and Max had no place finding anyone attractive right now. He hoisted his hiking backpack higher up onto his shoulders and grunted.

  “The weather should be good for most of the day, so before we hit the trail, I want to go over a few basic safety things with you, alright?” Collin braced his hands on his hips and grinned.

  Max blinked slowly, annoyed with how peppy Collin was and annoyed with how pretty Spencer was. He should have cancelled the stupid trip yesterday. But he was a glutton for punishment, and as such, he shoved his left hand into the pocket of his jeans and sighed.

  “Sure.”

  “Sounds good. Let’s head into the office and we’ll get sorted.” Collin turned, gravel crunching under his heel, and Max gestured for Spencer to follow. Max picked up the end and cursed himself for letting his eyes wander to Spencer’s ass. He was such an asshole. He gritted his teeth and studied the back of Spencer’s perfectly styled hair instead.

  Collin led them into a rustic looking cabin office and pointed at two chairs. “You can have a seat here. I’ll be back in a tick.”

  Max collapsed into one of the worn chairs without a word and Spencer took the other. Max leaned back and closed his eyes, rolling his head around his shoulders.

  “So,” Spencer said, interrupting his thoughts. “What brings you on this excursion?”

  Max opened one eye and narrowed it at Spencer.

  “I was feeling optimistic when I booked it,” Max answered, which wasn’t a lie. When Max had reserved the trip three months prior, he’d been another version of himself, full of hope and thirst for the future. Now, he was just here to do what he’d promised himself he would.

  “My friends were supposed to come with me,” Spencer carried on. “They cancelled at the last minute and I think they thought I was going to bail, but no way. I want to see the painted goats.”

  Max bit the corner of his lip to fight back an unnecessary smile. “Do you now?”

  “I’m fascinated with animals,” Spencer told him, “I’ve never seen a painted goat in person before.”

  “Well, I hope you’re not disappointed,” Max offered. He couldn’t care less about the painted goats, or the rafting, or the camping, or any of this whole trip.

  “Doubt it.” Spencer grinned, drumming his fingers over the arms of the leather chair he was sitting in.

  Collin came back into the room with a stack of papers and dropped them down onto the desk, sliding one toward Max and the other toward Spencer, then he pulled two flannel wrapped pens out of a cup and handed those off.

  Max took the pen and rubbed the material between his fingers. “Cute pens.”

  “My brother did it,” Collin grumbled, his lips twisting into a frown. “They’re...whatever. Rubbish.”

  “They’re rustic,” Spencer supplied, tapping the ballpoint tip against the top page, and Max saw Collin smile at that. “Where do I sign?”

  “The first four pages are a general release of liability. We do our best to make sure the trip goes without incident, but we aren’t liable for injury or death.” Collin pointed at the paper.

  Max signed it without reading it. Spencer read every page.

  “This next one states that in the event of inclement weather, continuation of the trip is at the discretion of the guide and cancellations don’t equal refunds.” Collin pulled the signed papers toward him and pointed at the next page.

  “So if the weather goes bad, we’re shit out of luck?” Max asked, thinking that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

  “Basically,” Collin grunted.

  Spencer made a funny sound and both men looked to him. His cheeks blushed and he scribbled a flourished signature at the bottom of the page.

  “Are you all right?” Collin asked.

  “Oh, I’m fine.” Spencer covered his cheeks with his hands and pretended to be embarrassed. “I just like when he gets all...like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “All grunty. I don’t know.” Spencer waved a hand toward Collin. “You have this whole
lumbersexual thing going on right now. I like it.”

  “I’m old enough to be your father.” Collin frowned.

  “I could call you Daddy.”

  Max choked out a sharp laugh, then cleared his throat and schooled his features when he realized no one else was laughing.

  “Sorry,” he apologized, righting the pen in his hand and staring studiously down at the paper.

  “You watch it,” Spencer teased from his right. “You’re pretty Daddy yourself.”

  “I’m not your Daddy,” Max corrected.

  “Yet.”

  “This last one says we can use your likeness in promotional material and any pictures that I or anyone who works here takes of you is our property,” Collin announced, forcing the words out.

  Max signed the last paper and found himself smiling for what seemed like the first time in days. Spencer signed his page, again after reading it, and pushed the paper across the desk toward Collin, who stacked them all into a neat pile.

  “I’ll go get these sorted, then we can get on the trail.”

  Collin disappeared again into a back office, leaving Spencer and Max alone.

  “You could be a good Daddy,” Spencer said.

  “I don’t want to be anyone’s Daddy,” Max snapped. “I don’t want to worry about anyone besides myself, alright? Enough.”

  Spencer widened his eyes and arched a brow.

  Max wasn’t lying. He wasn’t a Daddy, he was far from a Daddy, and he definitely wasn't in a place to even pretend to play that part. The idea of it was too much and he was feeling so...fragile.

  He was a joke.

  Max scrubbed his hands down his face and stood up, stomping out of the office and back toward the gravel parking area. He sat down on the stairs and rested his elbows on his knees.

  “Hey,” Spencer’s quiet voice floated down from above him.

 

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