Page 2 of Tattered and Torn
I laugh. “I think I can help with that.”
“Sure hope so,” he mutters. “We don’t need anything fancy—just hot. And maybe something homemade. I reckon the guests will sure like an upgrade.”
He comes to a stop beside a battered red pick-up truck and sets my suitcase in the back bed. Then he takes my carry-on from me and sets it in the truck bed as well. He points to my backpack. “Want me to stow that for you?”
“Sure.” I hand him my backpack, and he tucks it between my other two cases. Then he secures everything in place with a couple of bungee cords.
“This way,” he says as he walks around to the front passenger door. He unlocks it and opens it for me. “Up you go. Need a hand?”
“No, thanks. I can manage.” It’s a big truck, and I have to use the hand grip to haul myself up into the cab.
By the time I’ve got my seatbelt buckled, he’s already behind the wheel. He buckles his belt and starts the engine.
Burke grips the steering wheel with his right hand and backs the truck out of the parking spot. I find myself studying his hand. His skin is tan and weathered, and his knuckles are scarred, like he’s been in a few fights in his lifetime or punched some walls. He’s got a man’s hands—used to hard work. I’ll bet his fingers are calloused, the tips rough. At the thought, a tingle courses through me, and I mentally shake myself. “So, how far is it to the lodge?”
“An hour’s drive.”
“My understanding is they arrange wilderness adventures for guests. Like rock climbing and hiking and camping, things like that?”
He nods. “And horseback riding. That’s my job. I’m the stable master. I take care of the horses and take guests out on trail rides. The purpose of the excursions business is simply to fund the search and rescue efforts. That’s where Hannah and Killian’s passion really lies. Helping people.”
“Do you participate in rescues?”
“Sometimes. I’m no rock climber, but if we’re searching the wilderness for a missing person, I often lead a search team on horseback.” He glances over at me. “Search and rescue is a volunteer activity. The paying guests at the lodge fund the rescue operations.”
As we head west on the interstate, I study the landscape, watching as the city of Denver gradually turns into suburbs, and then the suburbs fall behind us to be replaced with open country. I can make out the Rocky Mountains in the distance, even this far away.
I’ve never seen mountains before—at least not in person. TV and movies don’t count. Right now they don’t seem as high as I expected, but I’m sure that’ll change as we get closer.
We ride in silence, which is fine with me. I check the time on my phone—it’s eight a.m., still early on a Friday morning. I’m tired from having gotten up at four to get to the airport in time for my flight. It’s been a long week, as I had a lot to do to prepare for this move—give away a lot of my stuff and donate the rest. I managed to downsize my entire life to fit into one 50-pound suitcase, a carry-on, and a backpack. Hannah told me they had a fully-furnished one-bedroom apartment all ready for me, so I decided not to bring much with me.
Everything I own is in the back of this truck.
As the miles pass, I find myself wondering if I made the right decision leaving my life behind and coming here to basically start over.
I found it much harder to leave Chicago than I expected. I had to say goodbye to some dear friends—Beth, Sam, Lia, and all the McIntyre Security employees I’d gotten to know over the past few years. I am, however, looking forward to making new friends. It helps that I already know two people here in Colorado—Hannah McIntyre and her business partner and boyfriend, Killian Devereaux.
The road is smooth, the truck is thrumming along like a well-maintained, if aged, dinosaur. My eyelids grow heavy. I guess everything is catching up with me. I lean my head back on the headrest and close my eyes, just for a minute.
* * *
“Gabrielle?”
A resonant male voice brings me wide awake, and I sit up abruptly.
“We’re here,” the cowboy says as he points to the right side of the road.
As I tidy my hair, I realize I actually dozed off. God, I hope I didn’t snore. I study the landscape surrounding us and see nothing but trees. “It’s all forest.”
“Right here, yeah, but the trees thin out the higher the elevation.” He slows the truck as we approach a big wooden sign that says McIntyre Wilderness Excursions. “This is it.” He turns right onto a two-lane gravel road. “It’s also the home of McIntyre Search and Rescue. One thousand and twenty acres of pristine wilderness.” He points straight ahead. “The lodge is a mile up this road.”
From what I can see, it looks like we’re in the middle of nowhere. My first thought is, where will I get supplies—kitchen appliances, food, produce, and fresh meat and seafood? You know, all the things one needs to run a restaurant. “It seems a little isolated.”
Burke chuckles. “That’s kinda the point. Folks come here from all over the world to get away from their day-to-day lives and have a bit of adventure. They like the isolation. But don’t worry, town’s just a few minutes away.”
I sneak a glance at Burke out of the corner of my eye. I noticed he drives one-handed, his right hand gripping the steering wheel firmly. His left hand rests on his thigh. There’s a light dusting of hair on the back of his hand, and a couple of tendons move and flex as he steers. He wears a frayed, braided leather band around his wrist. This is a man used to hard living, one who gets his hands dirty doing manual labor. For this city girl, that’s a whole lot of sexy.
From where I’m sitting, I can see only the right side of his face, but what I can see I like. He has a handsome profile, a straight nose, and a strong jawline covered by a neatly trimmed beard and mustache the color of dark chocolate. I imagine his hair is the same color, but it’s hard to tell with that cowboy hat perched on his head.