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Wildflowersbloomed everywhere the eye landed.Purplecolumbine, blazing orangeOrientalpoppies, and something calledIndianPaintbrush.Boldcolors were everywhere, a kaleidoscope foreground to the surrounding mountains andLakeDillonin the distance.Lilydidn’t know where to look first.
“How’syour breathing?”Wyattasked.
Lilyknew he was referring to the elevation gain.
Sheoffered him a thumbs up, taking a long draw from her water bottle.Theair was thinner up here, closing in on ten thousand feet.
Makingtheir way along the breathtaking trail,Wyattpointed outHoosierPass. “It’spart of theContinentalDivide.”
Lilytook in the high mountain range in the distance, still capped in snow.
“It’sessentially the spine of this continent, dividing the waters of theAtlanticandPacific.”
Lilylistened toWyattexplain there were four locations nearBreckenridgeto walk along theDivide.Itwas fascinating.
Itwas obvious thatWyattwas fully in his element.Sameas when they kayaked out on the lake.Likethen,Lilyknew he was keeping to a slower pace for her sake.Whileshe was exerting herself,Wyattwas barely breaking a sweat, his rock-hard leg muscles flexing as he climbed ahead of her.Hist-shirt stretched taut across his broad shoulders.
Stop.
Lessthan twenty-four hours had passed sincePeterbroke up with her and here she was swooning over another man.
Suddenlylight-headed,Lilystumbled.
Inan instant,Wyattwas there, holding onto her waist, keeping her vertical.Hewas so close she could feel his breath on her cheek.Shewould have reddened like a ripened tomato if it weren’t for the blood draining from her face.Shegroaned.
“Areyou okay?” he asked, helping her to sit on the rocky ground.
“Idon’t know what came over me.”Herheart was racing like it was competing in aFormulaOnerace.
Herwater bottle nearly depleted,Wyatthanded over his own. “Drink.”
Shedid.
“Nowtake some slow deep breaths.”
Shefollowed his instructions. “Sorry,Imust really be out of shape.”
“Altitudesickness has little to do with fitness.Yourbody needs to adjust.”
“Thanks,” she said, handing back his empty bottle. “I’mokay now.”
Hedidn’t appear convinced. “Let’srest for a bit longer.”
Afterten minutes,Lilystood slowly, feeling much better.ButwhenWyattoffered his hand, telling her to hold on tight until they reached the end of the trail,Lilycouldn’t conjure up any good reason to decline.
ChapterTwenty-Four
Thedrive to the festival was filled with music.JohnDenver, theBeachBoys,MattKearney,Wyatthumming along.ButLilybarely heard it.Herheart was still pounding.Shedidn’t know if it was from residual altitude sickness or something else.Somethingshe couldn’t consider at the moment.Shewas newly single.Toonewly.
Untilnow she had pushed away her feelings, the attraction toWyattgrowing each time they were together.
Whenhe’d shown up at her hotel dressed in tan board shorts and a grayHenleyshirt, his hair still wet from the shower, it took every last ounce of restraint not to run her fingers through his thick, sun-bleached locks.
Whenhe’d opened the truck door for her, the proximity struck her hard, leaving her momentarily breathless.
Lilywas relieved to be feeling better, her lungs filling with clean, unpolluted air, without the dizziness.Itoccurred to her that with the exception of whenWyattpointed out something about the terrain, or a unique flower, they had spoken little over the hour-long hike.Andyet the quiet felt easy and comfortable, the silence a connector.Justthem and nature at its finest.
“Dothey run this festival every year?” she asked, trying to regulate herself.
