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His eyebrows lift like he doesn’t believe me for a second.
“Yet,” I add. That gets me the slow grin I was aiming for.
“There she is.” He laughs and turns back toward the trail. “We’re about forty-five minutes from a good camping spot.”
“Sounds good.” I let my camera fall against my chest and follow after him.
My mind drifts back to yesterday and last night. I’ve tried really hard not to think about any of it today, but apparently my brain has other plans. I know Chace doesn’t technically owe me an explanation about whatever deal he has with Cole. I’m not his girlfriend. We agreed this was just sex, and his personal business is exactly that. But knowing that doesn’t make me any less pissed. Or any less annoyed that he’s actually giving me the space I made very clear I wanted.
I didn’t sleep for shit last night with him clinging to the other side of the bed like he was afraid he might accidentally touch me. I’ve slept by myself my entire life, and apparently one week tangled up in Chace’s arms is all it took to ruin that for me.
Forty-five minutes later, the trail curves and Chace slows by a thick patch of pines, veering off the beaten path. I follow behind for several feet. When I catch up, he lifts his chin toward the opening ahead, a proud little smile tugging at his mouth. “This is it. The secret view.”
When I step around him and through the trees, I stop. The view from here seems to go on forever. The valley stretches below us, green where the creek cuts through it, fading into dry grass and sage farther out. The same creek we followed earlier is nothing more than a thin silver line from up here. Beyond it, mountains stack against the horizon.
My hand goes straight to the camera hanging against my chest, and I start snapping pictures.
Behind me, Chace drops his pack into the grass. “Knew you’d like it.”
I lower the camera and look back at him. Something about the way he’s watching me makes me pause. This wasn’t just some random spot he picked to camp. He’s been here before, and for some reason, he decided he wanted to share it with me. I’m not exactly sure what that means, but the thought terrifies me. “How did you know about this place?”
Suddenly, I need to know how Chace even found it. I know he’s traveled all over on the circuit, but this doesn’t exactly seem like the kind of spot a bunch of rodeo cowboys stumble across looking for somewhere to party.
He shoves his hands into his pockets, scanning the horizon before he answers. “Sometimes I just need a break from all the noise in my head. So, I disappear somewhere no one can find me and stay there until shit feels quiet again.”
It’s never occurred to me that fun-loving, easygoing, nothing-bothers-me Chace gets overwhelmed by life. He’s always seemed so damn carefree. “When was the last time you did that?”
He looks at me for a long moment before answering. “Before I met up with you in Billings.” His gaze drifts back toward the valley. “Had a lot of shit in my head, so I took off for a while. Pitched a tent in the middle of nowhere, stayed there a couple days, then came to you.”
The vulnerability in his confession hits me so hard I’m almost speechless. “That’s why you were late,” I whisper.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he shuffles back to his pack and starts pulling out his tent, leaving me standing there remembering that night and how I’d basically accused him of fucking off and being irresponsible. And he’d just taken it. Absorbed every accusation like it was nothing, letting me believe whatever version of the truth I’d already decided on.
As I move to help him set up camp, I wonder if, in all the years I’ve known this man, I’ve ever truly known him at all. Because this no longer feels like some side quest to take pictures of a pretty view. It feels like Chace handing me a piece of himself he doesn’t give freely. And somehow, that quiet confession makes knowing who bankrolls his bull rides pale in comparison.
Between the two of us, the tent is up, our bags are tossed inside, and everything we’ll need for the night is tucked away pretty quickly. The sun is still sitting high overhead, beating down hard enough that sweat sticks my shirt to my back. Even up here, there’s not enough of a breeze to do much about the heat.
Chace straightens after securing the last stake and wipes the back of his hand across his forehead. “Come on. Time for the best part.”
“I thought this was the best part?”
“Can’t be. You haven’t seen me shirtless yet today.” With that, he grabs a small bag from the tent and takes off.
I snort and grab my water bottle before following him back toward the trees. The trail narrows, dropping downhill between the pines toward the sound of running water somewhere below us. Chace walks ahead, moving over the uneven ground, while I’m paying more attention to where I’m putting my feet.
“Careful here,” he says, glancing back as he steps over a large rock.
“I’m fine.” The words aren't even out of my mouth when my boot slips. “Shit.”
Chace turns fast enough to catch me before I go down. One arm wraps around my waist while the other grabs my upper arm. My hands land flat against his chest on instinct, and for a second neither of us moves. His arm is tight around my waist, my palms pressed against the solid warmth of his chest, and it feels so familiar it makes me ache.
Chace’s mouth curves into a lazy smile as he peers down at me. “See? This is why I kept checking to make sure you were still behind me all day.”
I shove lightly against his chest as I straighten. “Keep talking, and I’m going to push you off this mountain.”
He laughs and finally lets me go. “There’s my girl.” Then he turns and keeps walking like he didn’t just call me his girl.
I really wish those two stupid words didn’t stay with me for the rest of the short walk, but my mind won’t let them go. The truth is, as much as I’ve tried to stay mad at him, I’m not. Not anymore. Maybe I should be, but after the last twenty-four hours of barely talking to him, all I know is that I miss him. I miss the stupid comments. I miss him reaching for me without thinking. I miss waking up tangled around him and finding coffee waiting for me. Hell, the last week has been some of the easiest I can remember, and apparently one day of keeping him at arm’s length was enough to make me realize how much I’d gotten used to having him there.
