The Middle of Somewhere(22)

She tasted the disappointment and tossed the idea aside. She wasn’t ready to bail out. There wasn’t reason to. She wasn’t injured or sick or demoralized. Even Brensen hadn’t yet quit.

Her eyes sought Dante’s. His head was bowed, his eyes half closed, as if bracing for a blow. She studied the angle of his cheekbone and the curve of his ear. A wave of tenderness came over her. If she didn’t let him rejoin her now, she would almost certainly lose him. She blinked back tears and breathed out slowly to steady herself.

However firm her plans and valid her reasons, on this particular morning she could not turn her back on him and walk away.

Dante let go of her hand, taking her silence as refusal. He sighed and said, “I got you something.” He scrounged in the duffel and handed her a narrow paper bag. “Your favorite wine. I was surprised they had it in Mammoth. I even took it as a sign things would work out. Pathetic, isn’t it? I planned for us to share it tonight because that’s when I thought I’d meet you here.”

He’d keep pouring out words until she stopped him.

“Tell you what. Let’s transfer it to a Nalgene bottle. It’ll go great with the beef stroganoff we’re having on the trail tonight.”

His mouth formed a small circle of surprise, and he pulled her into his arms. He smelled of cheap hotel soap. The weight of his body against hers was familiar and comforting. She wished she could purr.

He said, “I lit a candle for us at mass yesterday.”

She whispered into his ear. “Don’t tell God, but I threw away most of your food.”

“I forgive you.” He kissed her deeply.

“We’ll go Dumpster diving.” She pressed her hips against him. One kiss and he was hard. “But first we should celebrate.”

He moved his hand to her rear end. “I stayed in a cabin here last night. I could show it to you.”

Her entire body was turning liquid, pouring into her groin. She nuzzled his neck. “Please.”

“If you insist.”

? ? ?

She lay with her head on his shoulder, their legs entangled in the sheets. A trapezoid of light from the cabin’s small window captured dust motes kept afloat by invisible forces. Dante planted a kiss on top of her head.

“We should get moving. I expect there are many miles on our agenda.”

“Uh-huh,” Liz murmured into his chest. She had more inertia than the mountains beyond the window. “Fourteen.”

“Only fourteen?”

“That’s my boy.”

“Vamos!” He yanked the covers off and kissed her bare hip.

She sat up and glowered at him. “Cruel.”

They quickly washed and dressed. She straightened the bed. They’d stashed their packs on the porch, but she asked, out of habit, “Got everything?”

They scanned the room and stepped outside. Leave no trace.

? ? ?

After their team bonding exercise, Liz and Dante reorganized their backpacks again. She had rescued some of what she’d thrown away, but they were short on snacks because Dante had eaten the ones he’d packed out. While he refilled his bear can, she went into the store to stock up.

She paid for her purchases and pushed open the door. Rodell and Payton had joined Dante. She said hello.

“We’re glad to see you’ve got company again,” Payton said.

What exactly had Dante said? She changed the subject. “So where are you headed today?” If she had some idea of their destination, she and Dante could stop short of it or leapfrog past them.

Rodell tipped his head behind and to the left. “South.”

“Like we said before, we make it up as we go along,” Payton said, clamping a hand on his brother’s arm.

“It’s part of the game,” Rodell said.

Before Liz could decide whether she wanted to know what he meant, Brensen charged toward them from the back of the café, red-faced, his phone to his ear. Oblivious, he weaved through picnic tables, trash cans and hikers, berating whoever was unfortunate enough to be on the other end.

“I told you a million times not to negotiate with those *s. You do work for me, don’t you?” He came to a halt and scuffed his boots, sending up a cloud of dust. “What do you mean it’s a partnership? I learn the roles, I make the movies, I earn the goddamn money, and you suck up your ten percent!” He plastered his hand against his forehead as if to prevent his skull from breaking open.