The phone in her jacket pocket began to ring, and she answered it quickly, with an apology to Clint. “Hello?”
“Hey, Mom.”
“Myles? Is everything okay?”
“Levi can’t find the insurance papers for the truck, so I said I’d call.”
“What happened to the truck?”
“Nothing. He’s shopping around for a better deal.”
“You can’t leave the Ryder’s insurance company!” They were like family. Everyone in Sweetheart Creek went to them. What were those boys up to? Changes were fine, but they were forgetting to take important things into account.
“The Ryders are selling.”
“What? They are?”
“They just announced it today.”
She hadn’t heard a whisper about that. Maybe it was good the boys were so willing to take care of things these days. Levi was going to save her hours and headaches, pricing out a new insurance plan for the ranch and all of its vehicles and equipment.
“Okay. Tell him thanks. They’re in the filing cabinet in the office.”
“He already looked.”
“It’s under V for vehicles.”
“Thanks.”
She ended the call.
“Problems at home?”
She shook her head with a growing smile. “Levi’s trying to save us some money. The Ryders are retiring, so he’s shopping around for new insurance.”
“They are?”
“Apparently.”
“Makes sense. I’m pretty sure Joe Sr. was friends with Moses.”
Maria laughed as they set off across the sand-littered parking lot, past an old Volkswagen van and a small pickup truck with a surfboard on its roof rack. As they neared an older Mustang, she pointed it out. “You know I have one of those in the machine shed? I used to think I was so cool in that.” She smiled at the memories. The feelings were like those she’d just experienced on the scooter. The freedom and possibility. The ability to go anywhere. The right vehicle had always done that for her.
“What’s it doing back there?” Clint asked.
She shrugged. “It’s old, impractical.”
“Still run?”
“I doubt it. It needed some work when I parked it.”
“How long ago was that?”
“When the boys were small. You can’t fit many rowdy kids in a Mustang. At least not that model, without someone kicking your arm and sending you into the ditch.”
“Sounds like there’s a story there.”
She grimaced. “There’s a story behind everything in life when you raise that many sons.”
Clint chuckled. “Do you miss the car?”
Her smile grew again. “That car and I had some good times.” She’d been driving it back when she and Roy would kiss at every stop sign and hold hands over the console. Her smile faded.
Some things were best left in the past.
They found a path that weaved between the dunes, leading up to the bench on the grassy hill. As they walked single file, the tall grasses whispered to them, spilling secrets she was unable to translate. She could see their destination, but the trail looked as though it was seldom used, while the one to the beach was much more heavily trafficked.
“Do you think there’s a better path on the other side?” she asked, gesturing to a second parking lot to the south.
“Probably.”
“Are we stuck?” She pointed to a sign requesting that visitors stay on the paths so as not to cause further erosion to the delicate plant life growing in the shifting sand. That meant no cutting across the grass to take the other path.
“Maybe.”
“Should we double back and take the asphalt to the other parking lot to see?”
“You’ve been on the ranch too long, Maria.” Clint gave her a kind smile. “We’ve got time to explore and take the wrong path.” He tipped his head back, inhaling deeply.
Maria stared at him, trying to let go of the inner need to go, go, go. Get things done. Do them right the first time. Move on to the next task on the list. See who needs help. Get it done, get it done, get it done.
She needed to relax.
They continued upward, Maria’s sandals sliding in the loose sand. Their path wound around to the ocean side of the hill, thin and barely there. She gasped in a steep spot when the shifting earth pulled her where gravity deigned. Clint turned, extending a quick hand to snag her before she tumbled to her hands and knees. His grip was warm and sure as he tugged her toward him.
For a moment she thought he was going to wrap her in his arms, but he stopped when she was a foot away, his gaze fixed on her lips. He slowly brought his eyes up to meet hers and she had that quickened-heartbeat sensation again.
She brushed off the nervous yet excited feeling of having a man look at her—really look at her—and marched past him. “I’ll go first,” she announced. She just hoped she didn’t lose traction again and slide into him, her butt in the air.
Near the top, Maria found her confidence, her footsteps more sure as the trail zigzagged up to the summit. But wind and rain had eroded part of the dune, creating a sizeable gap between them and the top. Maria paused, unsure whether her newfound mountain goat skills included lifting her foot as high as her hip and then pulling her body along after it.
“Here,” Clint said, moving past her. He hoisted himself onto the sketchy ledge with apparent ease. Once there, he knelt, reaching down to pull her up.
She hesitated a second, then put her hand in his, allowing him to help her. His wide smile told her he was glad to see her when she finally rose to her feet, their bodies a few inches apart.
“Hi,” he whispered.
“Hi,” she echoed, her own voice breathless. She wasn’t sure if it was from the hike, or the proximity of his lovely dark eyes and that gaze that seemed to recognize parts of herself she’d forgotten existed. They’d become buried without notice, and she realized now that they needed dedicated attention and affection. Things that had always been in short supply over the past several years.
“Lovely hike, isn’t it?” he asked casually.
She gave a small nod and continued on, her hand still locked in his. He made no move to release her, and she allowed the contact, curious where it might lead. The last time she’d held someone’s hand, it had been little Kurt’s—April MacFarlane’s four-year-old—while crossing the street in Sweetheart Creek.
Hardly the same thing.
They took the last few steps to the bench, inhaling deeply, pleased with their ascent.
“We made it,” she said.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?”
“It does.”
Clint was still smiling, an expression of hope that felt like more than she could support. She took her hand from his, making a point of illustrating a more gentle, well- trafficked path up to the bench. “See? There was another route.”
“But ours was more fun.”
“Well, I’m taking that one back down. Otherwise I’ll end up sliding on my butt.” Or falling into Clint’s arms.
He gestured to the bench and said, “Shall we?”
The view was amazing, a fresh perspective that took her breath away. They could see the waves rolling and breaking, the sun dancing, the day so clear and beautiful.