But today I woke up with plenty of worries and none of them seemed small.
I locked my apartment door and popped my ear buds in, then took off at a run. It was later than my usual morning runs, but Sedona was at a higher altitude than the Phoenix desert so the heat wasn’t so intense.
When I found my pace, my thoughts drifted back to the night before. In the morning light, kissing Cole seemed like a hazy dream. The duet in the bar, telling him about my parents, assisting him in treating a sick horse—it was so far from my normal life, I still couldn’t figure out how it had happened.
But it had.
I turned a corner, running toward Cathedral Rock. Sweat trickled down my face as I left the street behind and headed down the well-worn trail. Tourists frequented this path heading out to a nearby energy vortex, but today it was blissfully deserted.
The vortexes were supposed to bring peace and healing, but I hadn’t visited any yet. I’d never been much of a believer in metaphysical things. My parents hadn’t put any value in faith or religion. Money and numbers were their gods. So I’d grown up trusting only things I could touch and measure. Psychic energy vortexes were more than a little out there for me.
A hawk soared above me, circling as he stalked his breakfast. I kept moving at a steady pace, the trail taking me farther from the main road until the hum of traffic faded to nothing. This was my favorite part of a run: the moment when exercise became a meditation. Thoughts slowed, and it was just my body and soul working in unison.
The peace was short-lived, though, as something flashed in the distance, blinding me for a second. I stumbled, regaining my balance as I covered my eyes. My chest heaved. I slowed to a stop and scanned the horizon. The valley was empty. I wished I had binoculars.
What had that been? There weren’t any buildings for the sun to reflect off glass windows, and there were no cars in the distance.
The flash of light had seemed more like a signal, like prisoners in movies shining the sunlight off a mirror. But there was no prison. Hell, there weren’t even any houses in sight.
I shrugged it off and started to run again when it happened a second time. Goosebumps rose on my hot skin. I struggled to orient myself and figure out which direction the light had come from. My car was parked off the highway to the west; the light came from the southeast.
Serenity Farms was in that area. No way I’d be able to see anything coming from over there, though. I was miles from the ranch. Maybe I was getting a migraine? But I rarely got headaches. Tentatively, I started down the trail again when another flash hit me so hard my legs gave out.
“Help me,” a woman’s voice gasped.
From my knees, I looked around, frowning. “Is someone there?” Nothing. But I’d heard someone speak so clearly. “Hello?”
I got up and dusted off my pants. My hands trembled as I scanned the desolation. Suddenly, the miles of nothingness seemed menacing. I turned around and ran, sprinting for the paved street, unsure what exactly I was running from. It was an instinct.
Get away. Keep running.
But I kept looking back over my shoulder.
Someone needed help.
By the time Cole pulled up outside, I’d showered and convinced myself that my overactive imagination had been playing tricks on me. Nothing else could explain it. I smoothed my teal top in the mirror. My capris flashed my tan muscled calves, and overall, I was happy with my effort to look sporty but not too casual. I decided to wear my hair down for the baby shower. We’d be inside so it shouldn’t be too hot, but I pocketed an elastic hair band for an emergency ponytail, just in case.
I opened the door the second he knocked.
He smiled at me. “Hey. You ready?”
I nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Before I could slide out and close the door, he looked right over me at all the boxes stacked in my apartment. “Still getting settled?”
I stepped back, opening my door a little wider. “Yeah. It’s a process.”
“Need help?”
What was it with guys trying to unpack my boxes?
“I’ll get to it,” I said. “I’ve got all the important things out already so no rush.”
His gaze wandered over my face, and a crease formed between his brows. “Are you all right? You seem…scared.”
How could he possibly know that?
I forced a smile. “I’m okay. I spooked myself earlier on my run.”
He frowned. “How so?”
“I thought I saw something, and then…” I shook my head. “It’s nothing. Probably too many TV shows before bed.”
“Okay.” But he didn’t look convinced. He didn’t press, though. Instead, he offered me his hand and I took it, stepping out and locking my apartment.
“How’s Cora?” I asked.
“You’ll be glad to hear she pooped, and she’s feeling much better.”
God, his smile did things to me.
“That’s great news.” I chuckled. “I’m not sure what’s worse, our conversations about semen or poop.”
He laughed and opened the passenger door of his truck. “All in a day’s work for me.”
On the drive to the baby shower, Cole pointed out landmarks and I made mental notes of places I’d like to see later.
“There’s a great swimming hole down that way.” He patted my leg, sending a surge of heat up my body as he smiled at me. “It’s about a three-mile hike each way to the Crack at Wet Beaver Creek.”
I raised a brow. “Okay, that sounds dirty.”
There was his great laugh again. “I can’t take credit for the name.” He glanced my way. “Do you swim?”
I shrugged with a smirk. “I don’t drown. Does that count?”
He glanced over at me. “Do I have a dog-paddler in my truck?”
“Well…” Why was it so easy to talk to him? I grinned with a nod. “Champion dog-paddler, if you must know.”
He wore a crooked smile when he focused on the road again. “I could take you to see it sometime. It’s worth the hike.”
“I’d love that.” I lowered my voice, a little hesitant to even ask, but this seemed like the perfect time. “Have you ever gone to the vortices? Do you think they’re for real?”
His shoulder lifted in a half-hearted shrug. “If you’re asking if I believe there are energies in the world that science might not be able to measure, yeah. If you live in Sedona long enough, you’re bound to experience something that you can’t explain. Just looking up at the Red Rocks, which weren’t made with human hands, gives you a visual on the passage of hundreds of thousands of years. What the hell do we really know?”
I studied his profile. “You surprise me.”
“How so?” he asked.
“You’ve been through vet school. You work with science and math. You don’t seem like a spiritual kind of guy.”
He looked over at me with a look I couldn’t quite understand. His hazel eyes shone with regret. His voice was soft when he faced the road again. “I don’t consider myself spiritual, but I’ve seen things that most people will never believe could exist.”
Now I wanted to know what those things were, but he was driving through a wrought iron gate and my brother was standing out in front of a sprawling, adobelike high desert ranch house.