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I don’t stand a chance.
Ronan drove us eastward, the coast glistening gold as the sun started to descend toward the ocean. We passed a sign for the Natural Bridges State Beach Visitors Center and pulled into the lot.
“Crazy enough, I’ve actually never been to this beach,” I said.
“We’re not going to the beach,” Ronan said, his eyes on the road. He maneuvered the car into a parking space in the empty lot, which was odd since the day was perfect and warm.
“You good to walk in those?” he asked with a nod at my sandals as he unpacked the trunk.
“Yep. I remember your instructions. Are we hiking?”
“Not exactly.”
We walked up to the visitor’s center where a sign plastered to the darkened window explained why we were the only ones there.
“That fucker,” Ronan muttered under his breath, then laughed a little, shaking his head.
Natural Bridges Monarch Trail is CLOSED due to a private event. Welcome, Shiloh and Ronan!
I stared. “Did you do this?”
“I wish I could take credit. I told Holden my plan to make sure it wasn’t totally fucking stupid or…not good enough for you.” He jerked his chin at the sign. “So he bought the damn place out.”
“To make sure we’re alone,” I said, smiling up at him. “He’s a good friend.”
Ronan didn’t say anything, but I could tell he was touched.
“What’s the Monarch Trail?” I asked as we started up the wooden plank path around the visitor’s center. “And how have I never heard of it?”
“You’ll see.”
He led us up to the trail entrance where a park ranger checked that we were Ronan and Shiloh, then welcomed us in.
Ronan carried the backpack on his shoulder, the cooler in one hand. I carried the blanket. We crossed a long wooden bridge into a forest of pine and eucalyptus trees. The planked path continued for another few minutes and ended on a wooden platform in the midst of a grove of just eucalyptus. Sunlight poured in giving it an ethereal quality. The kind I tried to capture in my jewelry.
“What is this place?”
Ronan set down the cooler and backpack and pointed toward a tree.
I looked up and drew in a little intake of breath. A bough of green eucalyptus leaves was positively dripping with orange and black monarch butterflies. So many that it appeared the tree’s leaves were made of them. Their wings opened and closed slowly, like breathing. I turned and there was another. And another. Thousands of them, clinging to the leaves or flitting here and there.
“Ronan…” I gripped his arm, staring.
“Is it okay?”
“Okay?”
I moved to the wooden railing, to the closest cluster of butterflies hanging a few feet above me. “I never knew this was here. Never seen anything like it.” A handful of butterflies took flight and then settled again. “This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Ronan stood with his hands in his pockets, a strange, soft smile on his lips. His eyes were full of me. “I know what you mean.”
God, this man.
I admired the butterflies, delighted when one of them landed on my wrist for a few seconds and then rejoined its family.
Ronan unpacked the cooler while I laid out the blanket. “I don’t cook. I hope this is okay.”
The spread was from a gourmet restaurant downtown. He opened containers of grilled lemon chicken, pasta salad, mashed potatoes, and little Mason jars of yogurt berry parfait—all foods that were obviously chosen with me in mind. For drinks he had two bottles of beer and two bottles of sparkling water. He popped a water and handed it to me. “Okay?”
