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Alex shifted a rock and saw the moisture underneath, waiting just beneath the surface. There was no creek here that anyone else could see, but it was there, flowing slowly just beneath the rocks, making its way down the mountain.
The real flow of the world was always beneath the surface. Oz had taught him that.
“We’d better get back,” he said.
He turned before Shane could answer and headed back down alone.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ALEX WATCHED THE sun creep past the trees next to the motel parking lot and wiped a hand over his eyes before crouching back over his bike. That little trip down memory lane had exhausted him. Alex made a point of not looking back in his life, but he didn’t have much choice these days. There wasn’t a present in Jackson. Or a future. It was all his past and he couldn’t get away from it.
The two hours they’d spent in the office with Merry going over the details hadn’t helped either. His mother had wept bitter tears when he’d insisted—eventually, in a very loud voice—that he wasn’t giving a goddamn speech about his dad. She accused him of rejecting his father and everything the man had ever done for his children. Alex had just barely managed not to counter that at least he hadn’t changed his name like some people in the family. He’d avoided reverting to childhood levels of immaturity, but just barely.
He’d tried to lose his mind in work after, studying the reports for the site he’d be visiting in Alaska, but he hadn’t been able to shake the tension, so he’d washed his bike instead. He’d lost himself in that, finally, then found himself tinkering with the throttle for an hour.
That was something he loved about his bike. He could ride it, fix it, maintain it. He didn’t have to depend on anyone else. If it broke down, he ordered a part and fixed it himself. He knew his bike inside and out. It never changed. It was the one constant in his life, waiting for him whenever he got back from his travels. It centered him, somehow.
By the time the trees completely blocked the sun, Alex was totally relaxed. He stood up and stretched, feeling the breeze against his neck. A warm front was shaking off the cool that had settled in that morning.
Perfect.
Sophie had said she got off work at seven. Alex got out his phone.
Interested in a sunset drive? he texted her.
YES!!!! she wrote back immediately.
Alex could picture her delight perfectly. She took such joy in pleasure. Of course, everyone liked pleasure. But she was fed by it. Wine, pretty dresses, wicked underthings, travel, motorcycles, sex. It was all beautiful to her.
He wished he could see more than Jackson Hole with her. He wanted to watch her face the first time she saw Alaska, the ocean, the world. If she ever left this place, she’d come alive.
Considering how alive she already was, it’d be a fucking wonder to behold.
But all he’d get was Jackson, so he’d take it.
When should I pick you up? he texted back.
7:15 at my place. Or maybe around the corner?
He smiled. I’ll sneak up.
Perfect.
Yeah. One more perfect night with her before he had to go.
* * *
SOPHIE ENJOYED THE look on his face when she stepped outside.
“You look different,” he said simply, but his eyes took their time sliding down her body.
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She didn’t often wear jeans and boots, but this time she wanted a long ride on the bike, and heels and a skirt wouldn’t cut it. “Have I lost all my feminine mystique?” she asked.
“You’re made of feminine mystique,” he said as she slid on her favorite bright pink coat, “and you know it.”
She laughed because she did know it, but then she pressed a hand to her mouth and glanced down the street. “Where’s your bike?”
