Page 72 of Silent Shadows

Daisy glances toward it. “You heading somewhere?”

“Trail recon.”

“Can I come?”

I hesitate.

Not because I don’t want her there. But because increasingly, I do.

“I was hoping to interview you,” she adds casually. “At long last.”

There it is.

Professional framing.

Safer territory.

“Interview me while hiking?” I ask.

“You’d be less likely to escape into forums and trail notes.”

She’s right.

I sigh loudly and start the engine. “Fine.”

The trailhead sits just below the Chuska Mountains, tucked into a stretch of rough terrain where sandstone slowly gives way to pine and scrub oak.

Morning air cuts cool against my skin as we start hiking.

Daisy’s gotten better already.

Still slower than the rest of us.

Still occasionally dramatic about elevation.

But better.

“You know,” she says as we climb over a rocky incline, “I don’t think you need to stretch before every hike.”

“That’s because I believe in joint preservation.”

“Nothing about ‘joint preservation’ is hot, Miles.”

“I like knowing my knees will work for years to come,” I explain.

She pauses, her wheels clearly turning while her eyes rake over me. “Okay, that’s hot. I like a man on his knees.”

I nearly trip over a rock.

Fantastic start.

We hike in silence for a few minutes after that, boots crunching softly over dirt and gravel while the desert awakens around us.

Bird calls echo faintly through the trees.

Wind brushes through juniper branches overhead.

And strangely enough, being alone with Daisy out here feels easier than being alone with her anywhere else. No audience. No crew dynamic. Just movement.