The clock on her nightstand glowed with the time of five-thirteen when Sam clicked Save and shut down the computer then crawled into bed. Kajsa wouldn’t be ready to see it anytime soon, but someday, when the good memories overshadowed the loss, she would be ready. Sam would hold onto the picture until that day.
Another sleepless night and early morning ride did nothing for Colton’s state of mind. After getting bucked off Maj three consecutive times, he stripped the saddle, released her into the field, and kicked a fence post. A lot of good that did. Not only were none of his problems solved but now his foot throbbed.
His father’s proclamation that “She’ll be just fine,” was bologna. Last night, as Kajsa left with Cassie and Noah, tears still streaming down her face, she’d glared at him. “I’m never coming to the ranch again.” She’d sounded so serious, so set, that he worried she’d meant every word.
And then there was Samantha.
Boy howdy, had Colton made a mess of things.
His mother’s tired and crippled minivan puttered up the driveway, stopping in front of the house. She got out, took one look at him, and said, “I could use some help with the groceries.”
Colton nodded, glad for something to do.
His mother followed him inside. She didn’t believe in shooting the breeze. “I just got off the phone with Cassie, and Kajsa’s still pretty upset. Cassie thinks it best to let her stay away until after the competition and auction.”
Colton shook his head, hating that it had come to this. “I’ve been thinking, Mom.”
Her expression became wary. “What about?”
“What if we remortgaged part of the ranch—enough to buy back Maj?”
Her eyes softened, and she shook her head. “It’s a sweet thought, honey, it really is, but you know we can’t do that. We’re barely making ends meet as it is. And when your father and I first got married, we made a promise to each other that we would never let it come to that, no matter how tight things got. I’m sorry, but remortgaging the ranch isn’t an option.”
“What about selling of some of the land that borders Colorado Springs? Developers have been after that section of our property for years now.” Colton’s stomach clenched at the thought. All seventy-nine acres of the ranch had been in the McCoy family for over one hundred years. Letting some of it go would be like selling part of their souls. But what other options were there?
“Do you really think that’s a good idea?”
“No.”
“Neither do I.”
Colton rifled through the bags, pulling out boxes and cans and shoving them into the pantry. “If I’d have explained everything to Kajsa in the beginning, this wouldn’t have happened. It’s my fault she got so attached; my fault she thought the horse was ours to keep.”
His mother touched his arm. “Kajsa would have become attached regardless. You know that.”
“Which is exactly the point,” he said. “She and Maj share a special connection—a rare connection. I can’t stand by and watch it break. They need each other.”
“Need?” His mother arched an eyebrow with that look that made him feel like she could see inside his soul. “Are you sure we’re still talking about Maj and Kajsa?”
“Who else would we be talking about?”
“You and Sam.”
Colton’s body stiffened. She hadn’t meant to pour salt on an open wound; she probably thought she was offering him a Band Aid. A good talk and everything would be okay. But it wouldn’t. There was no solution that would close the gap between Colorado and New York. Words, hugs, money—they wouldn’t cut it. And Colton didn’t want to think about it anymore.
Kajsa and Maj, on the other hand, he could do something about.
“This has nothing to do with me and Samantha,” his said. “We’re talking about Kajsa and Maj and that’s it.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
“If you say so.” She pulled open the fridge to put away some produce. “Tell you what. If you can think of another way to raise several thousand dollars to buy a wild mustang for an eleven-year-old girl, I will do whatever I can to help.”
When she put it that way, it sounded ridiculous and unreasonable. Maybe his father was right. Maybe this was a lesson Kajsa would need to learn sooner or later, and now was as good a time as any. But Colton couldn’t leave it alone. There were too many layers; too many people who now suffered because of his lack of communication. He’d see the pain in Kajsa’s eyes, in her parents’, and in Samantha’s. That had hurt the worst. It had been like reliving the aftermath of their earlier conversation all over again.
If there was something he could do to make this right, he was going to do it.
We need to talk.
Sam stared at the words she’d typed into the message app on her phone and frowned, then quickly deleted them.
With a sigh, she tossed the phone on her bed and collapsed beside it. Surely she could come up with something more original to send Colton than that. She was a creative person and “We need to talk” was the most overused phrase in the history of relationships. It was cliché, and she didn’t want anything about her relationship with Colton to be cliché.
But she and Colton did need to talk. They needed to find a way past this division between them. She couldn’t live with it for much longer.
A jingle sounded from her phone—the Colton-specific jingle she’d assigned to his name the day he’d first given her his number. She tensed, afraid she’d conjured up the sound the way a severely dehydrated man could conjure up water.
The jingle came again.
Two texts?
And again.
Three?
Sam grabbed her phone, her fingers shaking as she opened the messages.
38.869969, -104.921504
21:30
Please come.
She tried to get her sleep-deprived mind to make sense of the numbers. Of course, he’d come up with something creative, inventive, and non-cliché. Or had he? The numbers meant nothing to her. Maybe his autocorrect feature had glitched and only made it appear like a creative, inventive message.
Or maybe it was some sort of code she had to decipher.
Sam chewed on her lower lip. She was terrible at puzzles and therefore hated them. Where was the key? The explanation? The hint?
For five minutes, she waited for another message. When no more came, she jogged downstairs. “Mom? Dad? Where are you?”
“In here, sweetheart,” came her mother’s voice.
Sam found her parents in the family room watching a Saturday morning news program. She shoved the phone in front of her mother’s face. “Any idea what this means?”
Her mother pushed it back and squinted at the text. “Looks like a math problem to me. But what’s with the comma and colon?”
“Let me see.” Her father took the phone and read the messages. His brow crinkled for a few moments before clearing. “Oh, I get it.”
“What?” Sam and her mother said in unison.
“Try copying and pasting the numbers of the first message into a Google search engine and see what happens.” At least her father had been kind enough to give her a hint. That was more than Sam could say for Colton.
Sam did a quick copy and paste job. The top result that came back included a Google map with the caption: Pike National Forest, 100 Cave of the Winds Rd, West Colorado Springs, CO.
“They’re latitude and longitude coordinates,” her father explained. “And the second message is military time. He wants you to meet him tonight at nine-thirty at the location of those coordinates. I’m assuming you know where it is?”
“Yes. Cave of the Winds. He took me spelunking there last week.”
“Well, there you go. Apparently you can’t get enough of spelunking.”
“Or maybe Colton can’t get enough of Sam,” murmured her mother with a smile.
Sam’s heart became light and fluttery. She plunked down on the sofa and reread the creat
ive, inventive, and non-cliché message. He wanted to see her again. Tonight. At nine-thirty. She couldn’t wait.
The road to Cave of the Winds wound back and forth a little more than Sam remembered; the curves a little tighter. Twilight cast a grayed-out hue on everything, and the only things that looked familiar were the dark evergreens set against the backdrop of variegated red and peach rock cliffs. Sam was beginning to worry she’d turned off the highway too soon when the visitor’s center had finally appeared. Dark and closed down for the night, the place looked eerie. A few cars remained in the parking lot, but neither of them were Colton’s truck, so she circled around and drove down a short hill to the lower, completely vacant parking lot.
What now?
Sam squinted through the dark, finally spotting Colton’s truck off to the right, in the middle of an overflow area. Sam parked next to the truck, got out, and peered through the passenger window. Still no Colton.
“In here.” A hand waved at her from the bed of his truck.
She found him lying on a navy and plaid blanket with his hat resting next to his head.
“Hey,” he said.
She climbed into the truck and sat down beside him. He didn’t say anything, only stared up at the nearly black sky, not blinking. An awkward silence settled around them, but Sam didn’t know how to un-awkward it, so she pulled her knees to her chest and waited.
Then waited some more.
When he still said nothing, she laid next to him, leaving enough space so only their shoulders touched. “What are you looking at?”
“You mean what am I looking for.”
“Okay. What are you looking for?”
“A shooting star.”
She felt all tingly and on edge, her body hyper aware of his. Every inch of her wanted to curl into him, to feel his arms around her, his breath on her neck, his mouth against hers.
“What are you going to wish for?” she asked.
“If I tell you, it won’t come true.”
Sam knew exactly what she’d wish for. She’d had it ready to go for weeks now.
I wish that Brecken Design would move to Colorado Springs.
It could happen, right? Her mom could find the company a sweet deal on some real estate, and the entire team could uproot and come to her. Totally doable. Totally within the realm of possible.
Maybe that was the point of tonight. They’d both wish on a shooting star and let magic figure things out for them. Sounded like a great solution to her.
Unfortunately, no shooting stars appeared.
Finally, Colton rolled to his side and looked at her—really looked at her—as though he wanted to make sure she was listening.
“I’ll wait,” he said. “For two years, I’ll wait. Even longer if I have to.”
“You will?” she breathed.
“Yes.”
“But—”
“No buts. Period.”
It was exactly what she’d wanted to hear only a few days ago. But now it didn’t feel like a compromise. It felt like she’d won and he’d lost. Even though the separation would be hard on both of them, his sacrifice was greater, and how was that fair?
Colton tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He looked… sad. He lifted his hand to smooth his knuckles across her cheek. “I’m going to miss you.”
Sam caught his hand and tightened her fingers around his. “I need to say something.”
“I’m listening.”
Sam bit her lip, piecing words together in her mind, trying to find the right fit.
Last night, when I saw you with that girl—
No, that wasn’t right.
What if I do take the job and—
Wrong again.
And then they came, flowing out of her mouth like a babbling brook. “I want you to know that you are more important to me than any job or any opportunity, and if you and I are ever in jeopardy over this, I’ll quit and catch the next flight back home. You are my destination. This job is just a detour.”
He nodded and swallowed, looking down at their tangled fingers before clearing his throat. His voice sounded raw with emotion when he said, “I’m okay with that.”
“You are? I mean—we are? Okay, I mean. We’re going to be okay?” She needed to know this wasn’t going to break them. That her leaving really was just a detour. “I have to admit, last night when I saw you flirting with that cute girl in the white skirt—”
“You mean my cousin?”
“She’s your cousin?”
He chuckled, and Sam realized how much she’d missed the richness of his laugh. “Yes.”
“But she kept touching you.”
“She’s that way with everyone. She’s a hugger and a toucher. I don’t think she can help it.”
“Oh.” Didn’t Sam feel sheepish, especially considering she’d tried to “get him back” by flirting with Will and that other guy whose name she couldn’t remember.
“Is that why you were trying to flirt with Will and Zeke?”
He made it sound like she was a naïve pre-teen who had no idea how to engage a member of the opposite sex. “I wasn’t trying to flirt. I was flirting.”
His chuckle came again. “I wasn’t implying that you didn’t know how to flirt, only that it probably didn’t get you very far.”
That was supposed to make her feel better? “I didn’t get very far with them because I didn’t want it to go far.”
“No. You didn’t get very far because they both know you’re already taken and I would have turned them into mincemeat if they’d so much as given you a second look.”
“Oh.” Now that made her feel good. Warm and sudsy and lusciously-fragrant good. “Am I taken?”
“Yes. Or, at least almost.” He lifted his body and rolled closer, hovering over the top of her. Sam fought the urge to grab his shirt and pull him against her. “We need to seal the deal first.”
“How do we do that?” she asked.
He drew closer, and his warm and minty breath sent a slew of goose bumps skittering down her spine. “You tell me.”
He was making it really hard to think. “Want me to sign something?”
“Nope.”
“Handshake?”
“Nuh uh.”
“Verbal agreement?”
His lips were brushing her cheek, and she felt them lift into a smile. “Now you’re getting closer.”
Then his mouth captured hers. An eruption of chills, thrills, and trembles flowed through her body, igniting each nerve. Sam wound her arms around his back, pressing him closer. He tasted like mint, smelled like soap, and felt like heaven. She couldn’t get enough.
His lips moved to her neck, and a myriad of sensations rolled across her skin. When his lips found hers again, she felt like she’d been transported to a world where thousands of turquoise butterflies beat their wings against the backdrop of vibrant, double rainbows and gushing waterfalls. New York suddenly felt like a black hole getting in the way of paradise.
I’m not going, she thought. I can’t.
Gradually, the pressure of his kiss lightened, and he dropped to her side, pulling her against him, his heavy breathing mingling with her hair. Sam burrowed her face into his chest. This was home. Right here. A place she never wanted to leave.
After a few moments of silence, he said, “I have a favor to ask you. It involves Kajsa.”
He didn’t need to say anything more than that. Any favor he asked was a favor granted. Especially when it came to one of her sisters. “I’m in.”
Colton stood back in awe as Samantha became the Energizer Bunny at warp speed. She contacted all of her former college and high school friends and asked if they’d be willing to donate their skills and talents for a good cause, then organized an online service auction. With Adi’s help, she created and delivered flyers to all the neighborhoods around her house, rounding up items no longer needed. A week later, they held a massive garage sale and actually made a fair amount of money.
Throu
gh it all, Kajsa had no idea the effort being made on her behalf. No one wanted to lift her hopes only to see them crash down if they couldn’t raise enough to buy Maj. Auctions were tricky that way. The final price wasn’t set until the last bid had been made. But Kajsa began coming to the ranch again, sans her usual enthusiasm. In its place was a solemn sorrow that lingered around her like her own little raincloud.
The only other downside to all the money-making, fund-raising hoopla was that Colton didn’t see Samantha nearly as often, and the morning of her departure came way too soon. Samantha had already said her see-you-laters to the McCoys, Mackies, and Granthams. She’d tried to do the same with Colton, attempting to convince him that airport goodbyes were the worst, but he wouldn’t hear of it. So on the morning of August twenty-fourth, with a heaviness in his chest and what felt like Kajsa’s raincloud hanging overhead, Colton pulled into the driveway behind Samantha’s little yellow Bug. How long would it sit there until she came back?
Mrs. Kinsey greeted him at the door with red-rimmed, tear-filled eyes. She threw her arms around Colton, as though it was him leaving and not Sam. “It’s because of you she’ll be back,” she whispered. “Thank you for that.”
Her words touched him, and he had to swallow his emotion. Over Mrs. Kinsey’s shoulder, Samantha appeared, dragging a large purple suitcase behind her. Looking gorgeous in a pale-yellow, knee-length dress, it took every ounce Colton’s willpower to take the large suitcase from her grasp and carry it out to the car instead of back upstairs. Mr. Kinsey followed behind with another, equally large suitcase.
She’s leaving. She’s really leaving.
Colton had wished so hard that this day would never come, and yet here it was.
“I’ll mail the rest of your stuff as soon as I can,” promised Mrs. Kinsey, giving her daughter one final hug.
“Thank you,” said Samantha, her voice shaky and quiet. “I’ll see you in six weeks. Right?”
Stick in the Mud Meets Spontaneity (Meet Your Match, book 3) Page 18