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“No!” I snap, then continue in a more controlled tone, “No. I’m as anxious to get on the trail as you.” I tip my head toward the horses. “Let’s go see what Bruce thinks. That’s the hip-guy’s name.”
“Maybe we should ask Jack. She’s the coordinator and seems like the one who’d be in charge of their workman’s comp issues.”
“Uh, yeah. Ah . . .” I pick up the pace. “Why don’t you, um, do that?”
Jack
My peers decide Luca hasthings under control and work to put breakfast together, but I’m watching, pacing, and biting at my thumbnail as if that’ll help the situation. Sean and Calvin have the cooking portion in-hand. Meanwhile, I stop my pacing on a spot facing the herd, shoulder-to-shoulder with Eddie. I wait to find out what the disturbance was, when Luca and Jasper ride back to the camp. Wyatt and his mostly white stallion trail Luca by two horse-lengths.
Luca stands in the stirrups, throws his leg over, and walks alongside Jasper in the blink of an eye. His jaw is set in a way I don’t think I’ve seen yet. Determination, perhaps, and he marches directly for me. I stand a little straighter, eyes wide. And when he reaches me, Luca shoves Jasper’s reins in my hand without preamble then marches past me without a good morning or a hint of eye-contact.
I twirl on my heel and stare after him. His head hangs, shoulders hunch, so something has happened between last night and this morning. He makes for the supplies not being used for breakfast and starts trying to consolidate containers.
Eddie leans closer, his voice low. “Apparently that kiss last nightmusta been nothin’ to write home about.”
I roll my eyes at his obsession with using southern phrases. I should have thrown that book he brought in the trash back at the airport. He’s wrong, though. The kiss was everything to write home about, and I have the feeling Luca thinks so too. I’m bent on finding out what happened out there, for one, but also why Luca is being so cold after our connection yesterday. I hand the reins to Eddie and march over to Luca.
Slowing on my final few steps, I shove my hands into my blue-jeans pockets and try to seem sweet. Whatever the problem is, I doubt being direct—which is normally my M.O.—will calm him much. “Heya, cowboy,” I say.
Luca doesn’t look at me. Instead, he shoves a bag of gear into my arms. “Load this up onto Lucy’s saddle.” Then, he returns to consolidating the rest of the gear.
I hug the bag to my chest and dig in my heels. My mind spins, switching between anger and shock, but I’m not letting him get away with whatever this mercurial attitude is. Last night’s connection was too much for me to just let it be. I drop the bag, sand billowing up around where it thuds to the ground, and plant both fists on my hips. “No.”
A couple of the guys have started to stare at us, but I ignore them and wait. Finally, Luca stops his obsessive packing, stands straighter, and turns to face me. His mouth is formed, ready to ask one of the four Ws, but I hold my hand up, palm facing him.
My lips are pressed tightly, and I give the team watching us a leave-us-alone glare. Luca scowls at me expectantly as I gather my composure and say at last, “Over there.” I march toward a tree some distance away from the others.
Behind me, I hear another of Eddie’s newly learned quips. “Dang, she seems madder than a wet hen.”
Ignore it,I tell myself and march straight for somewhere that might give us just a little seclusion. Gravel crunches behind me, and when I reach the far side of the tree, I whirl around to face Luca. “What gives?”
He shrugs with both arms out, palms up. “I’m sorry, but I don’t follow.”
How can he sound so innocent? So aloof? So ignorant?
The howling and gunshot before fade into the background of my mind, only seeming to reflect whatever’s happening between Luca and me. I glance back at the crew, where Wyatt has fallen into the breakfast routine. He seems A-okay, as if the morning’s a hundred and ten percent routine, but there’s something far out of sorts with Luca. Different even from before our connection.
I fold my arms over my chest. “Was our little make-out session last night something you do with a girl on the trail every trip? Then, just pretend it never happened? Really?”
He swipes off his hat and runs his hand over his head, sighing. “Jack,...” he says as if it’s about to be followed by a blah-blah-butstatement.
“Oh no, you don’t!” I wag my finger in the air in a no-no gesture. “Uh-uh.”
Luca takes a deep breath but doesn’t offer an argument or explanation.
“Is it a standard thing for you? Is this really why you came out here to New Mexico from Cali? It wasn’t for the wide open, was it? No, this ranch gives you the perfect opportunity to have a little fling with lonely girls who venture out on this—this...” I have to stop because my throat suddenly feels like it’s closing. Lonely? Is that true for me? I spin around to hide my sudden emotion.
What in the world am I thinking? I’m reacting irrationally. He didn’t give me cause to become all dramatic. This is insane! It was, like, two whole kisses, not as if we have a relationship or anything. Geez. Maybe I’m PMSing. I blink my eyes several times to extinguish the burning sensation and take a long, slow inhale. And another. Then, strong hands clasp gently onto both my shoulders. Luca turns me and pulls me into his arms. My body goes rigid, but at the same time, my heart sings.
“It’s not like that, Jack,” Luca says into my hair. “I haven’t kissed anyone other than you in a very, very long time.”
I stare at his hat on the ground for a few seconds and pull away a little to look up at him. The sun is behind his head and blinding, but he turns us so I don’t have to squint. Such a little thing but, man, does it show how considerate he is.
“Is that so?” My voice is thin but hopeful, and I feel the corners of my lips turning upward.
“Yeah.” He chuckles, the power of his voice radiating through his chest and into me. “I haven’t kissed anyone in probably eight years. Dang, make that nine. Not since I broke it off with my ex-fiancé and moved out here.”
My eyes stretch. “You were engaged?”
