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That’s a scary thought.
Goofing around with him is one thing. Even the teasing, the flirting, and the “practice” kisses could be explained by this weird acting thing we’re doing.
But it’s really sinking in now that my feelings for Cole go far, far beyond what’s happening here at Sunrise Ranch.
Does he feel the same? Does he still want Danielle?
I back up enough to look up into his eyes. “You’re a good listener. And you give better advice than I do. I mean, most of my advice is snarky and half-joking. You could be a therapist.”
He laughs gently and shakes his head.
He’s humble to the core.
“No way. I know nothing about this stuff. Heck, I probably said something stupid, just then.”
“No, it was really helpful. Now I’m wondering if sometime while I was away on a trip, you took college psych classes on the down low.”
“Ha. I don’t have time for that. Too busy keeping your brother in line. Trying to get him to carry his half of the business. The slacker.”
I know Cole’s joking. He and my brother work so well together, it’s scary.
When we start walking again, I feel more like myself. I can think again, so much clearer than before. Cole’s right. When we get back to the ranch we’ll catch up with Trent and he’ll be way calmer.
The priority right now is Blue.
The hoof prints in the dirt go every way except in a straight line. It’s like Blue zig-zagged over to every bush and tree on this stretch of land.
He seems to like ups and downs, too.
His hoof prints lead us up rocky banks and down into gullies and washes. Why can’t he be the sort of baby goat that likes flat, even surfaces?
“The critter doesn’t like to take the easy way, does he?” I say as we pick our way up a particularly steep hillside.
My shoulder’s starting to get a kink in it. No wonder people don’t usually hike with purses. Time to switch this thing to the other side, try to share the pain evenly.
I switch the gallon of water to my left hand, then go about transferring my purse over, too.
Nope.
Not a good idea.
I can do tree-pose like a yogi, but when it comes to balancing on a steep pitch on very tippy rocks, it turns out I’m nothing but an amateur. I stumble forward first, then over-correct and tip back.
Landing on your butt, on raggedy rocks? Do. Not. Recommend.
“Ow,” I groan, as I try to assess the damage. I manage to shift over to softer sand, and then take a peek at my hand, which has a weird burning sensation in it. Cole’s up ahead, now. He’s way better at this whole desert-hiking thing than I am.
He stops and looks back, then immediately back-tracks my way. “You okay?” He squats down next to me, and then gently takes my hand in his.
I don’t know what’s up with the fine little copper hair-things sticking up out of my skin. “Are those cactus quills?” I ask him. Cole tilts my palm toward the sun and inches his nose closer. Then he sits back on his haunches, my palm still cradled in his hands. “Yeah, a whole lot of ‘em. I can’t believe you didn’t scream.”
“I’m working on that. You said. House rules. No shrieking.”
“My eardrums appreciate it. Hang on… I packed tweezers.” I examine my hand as he lowers his pack to the sand next to me and digs around inside his bag.
“They come in handy with wound care sometimes,” he says. “Once me and Trent were out fishing and he fell on a down log and got a sliver about an inch long in his forearm, and—”
I squeeze my eyes shut.
