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Stocked up on snacks and drinks, we continue on our journey. I’m so busy feeding my face that I miss the next attraction sign on the side of the highway. Malcolm sees it and swerves onto the exit ramp. I look out the window but don’t have a clue where he’s headed.
“What did I miss?” I ask, bouncing in my seat.
“Since you weren’t paying attention, you’ll just have to wait and see.”
Just ten minutes later, we arrive at the Chimney Rock National Monument at the southern edge of the San Juan Mountains. We pull up to the park and pay the attendant for a self-guided tour.
“We may not have time to hike the whole thing, but I bet we’ll have a great photo op,” Malcolm says.
“Honestly, just getting out and walking for a little while is worth it. The weather is so nice and the view is amazing.”
We start on a trail that takes us past the mesa village where we stop so Malcolm can snap a few pictures of me. Then, we continue up the path toward the Chimney Rock.
“How long have you been a sports agent?”
“About ten years. I joined an agency right out of college.”
“And now you work for yourself?”
“That’s right. There’s too much politics in the agencies these days. Once I made my own connections, there was no longer a reason to share my profits with them. I also didn’t like the drama so I went out on my own.”
“I admire that. It’s risky. I’m not much of a risk taker.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
“Really? Why?”
“Because you should have someone else taking the risks for you. You should always feel safe and secure.”
“Where do you find someone like that?” I ask and he stops right in front of me. He takes both of my hands and looks into my eyes.
“I told you I’ll take care of you. All you have to worry about is training and winning.”
“I can do that.” I blush.
“I know you can.”
We get about as close to the summit as we can, considering the long walk back, and Malcolm tells me to pose in front of the rock.
“No, this time you’re going to be in the picture with me,” I argue and wave him over beside me.
I take his phone from his hand and line up the rock behind us. He drapes his arm around me and smiles as I take the shot. I hand his phone back to him.
“Send me that one. I want a copy too,” I tell him and start to move away but he pulls me back to him and kisses me gently on the lips. I’m stunned but also excited by his unexpected advance. Disappointment fills me as it ends as fast as it started.
“Was that okay?” he asks me, his voice gravelly.
“Yes.” I feel the blush creep to my cheeks. “It was.”
Our last stop is at a roadside diner for dinner. As we exit the SUV, Malcolm asks, “Are you sure you’re up for this? I mean, it looks a little shady to me. We can’t have you getting food poisoning the night before you start training.”
I shrug my shoulders. “You only live once, right?”
The inside is clean and quaint with a real country vibe. The hostess is an older woman who seats us in a booth beside the windows facing out to the parking lot.
“She sat us here so we can watch when our car gets stolen,” Malcolm teases.
“This place isn’t so bad. In fact, I think it’s kind of nice. Like, homey.”
“I’ve seen your home. This is nothing like that.”
“I never said that my home was homey, did I?”
“That’s true. So, what are we eating in this fine dining establishment?”
“There’s only one thing to eat in a place like this. Burgers with everything and a large side of fries. Maybe some Rocky Mountain oysters for an appetizer.”
“I’m good with the burger and fries, but I’m not eating anything’s balls, thank you.”
“Good, I don’t really want them either.”
We have our surprisingly tasty burgers, and Malcolm surprises me by picking up the menu again.
“What are you looking for?” I ask him.
“The sign said they have homemade ice cream. We may never come here again. We can’t leave without trying it.”
My face lights up. I love ice cream, but I’m not allowed to have any at home. My father says I need to avoid empty calories.
“Can we share a sundae?”
“We can. Look.” He points to the menu. “We get to choose our ice cream flavor and up to ten toppings.”
Together, we design what we believe will be the perfect sundae and summon the waitress back to our table. I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun ever in my life. This whole trip with all of the silliness and funny experiences is something I’ll never forget.
Our sundae arrives and Malcolm scoops a spoonful of the gooey, whipped cream-covered sweetness from the tin bowl. He holds the spoon out to me, and I open my mouth. He brings it just inches from my lips then spins it around and stuffs it in his mouth.
