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“You think that’s going to save the ranch?” There’s doubt in his deep voice, but also desperation.
“I do.”
“I hope you’re right. We had two more cancellations today.”
“Really?” I frown and shake my head. “Well, don’t worry. Right now, the wrong people know you, not the right ones.” I smile. “Besides, life would be pretty damn boring without haters and doubters. We have to show them the light.”
He chuckles. “How are you always so positive?”
“I always look on the bright side. I have to. In my family, I have to be positive.”
“That’s the reason you’re here? Family?” His question comes out stiff, like he doesn’t care, but beneath the surface, there’s a lingering curiosity.
I give a one-shoulder shrug. “I guess it’s just a midlife crisis type thing.”
Charlie laughs, and my pulse trips at the sight. His laughter transforms his entire body, loosening his broad shoulders, crinkling the corners of his eyes. He’s still rugged, only more at peace.
“If you’re middle aged, darlin’, I’m a fucking grandpa.”
Darlin’.The endearment consumes me like a forest fire.
I hesitate, then, since we’re semi-baring souls, I ask, “Why’s it called Runaway Ranch?”
Charlie shakes his head, his handsome face darkening. “We’re talking about you.”
I frown. It’s the second time he’s avoided answering that question.
“Why are you here?” he asks, turning toward me.
Now it’s my turn to avoid a question. Talking about why I’m traveling across the country feels like letting all the bad stuff back in. And I want to keep my slate clean in this wonderful little town.
“I’m here to have fun. To sow—”
“Wild oats?” His voice is gruff, irritated, but it makes me shiver. The intensity of his blue-eyed gaze burns a hole straight through me. “But why? People don’t leave unless they’re ...” He stops himself before he can say the rest. But I can fill in the blanks.
Running away.
“How about this?” I announce. “I’ll tell you why I’m here, when you tell me why it’s named Runaway Ranch.”
He scowls and I smirk. Bluff called. I feel better because now I’m not lying, only withholding. Just like he is. It’s fair.
We trudge up the side of the cliff, and Charlie takes his place beside me on the outer edge. I kick at a rock and watch a hawk sail across the clear blue sky. A broad hand lands on my arm, and I look over, gratefully taking the bottle of ice-cold water that Charlie passes me.
“Up ahead,” his rough voice rumbles. “The last lookout point.”
It’s sticky, and it’s hot, but we keep climbing. The wide road soon spits us out on a narrow trail that edges right along a cliff. The path is too narrow to accommodate both of us, so Charlie takes a slow lope behind me.
“Is this your plan, Cowboy? Get me on a mountain and push me off?” I ask playfully, daring a glance over my shoulder.
He chuckles, but stays silent, keeping his gaze locked on me like he’s tracking every step I take.
Finally, we make it to a narrow part of the mountain that juts over the ranch.
“Oh my god, Charlie.” I look up at him with wide eyes, then back at the stunning view.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” I can’t look away from the panoramic view of Runaway Ranch, the glittering falls, the town of Resurrection. I edge away from Charlie’s tall, broad-shouldered frame and closer to the point.
