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I didn’t reply. I hiked the backpack over one shoulder, pausing to pet Tate on my way to the door. “All right. I’m off.”

“Have fun! There are snacks and waters in the backpack…and a note. Make sure you read it.”

Waylon met me at the trail head, an amused half smile tilting his lips at the corners. “Let me get this straight. Your dad tells your kids you have a boyfriend, you deny it, and they set us up anyway.”

“Hmph. That’s pretty much it.” I plucked at his orange sweatshirt. “I didn’t know you were a Texas fan.”

“They’re okay. I’m more a fan of not getting shot by a trigger-happy hunter. Which way are we going?”

I led us south into the dense portion of forest that serpentined Lake Norman and eventually crested the ridge that led to Elmwood. The evergreens provided thick coverage interspersed with deciduous trees clinging to a sparse canopy of red and orange leaves. There were more bare branches now and the air was crisper, though it wasn’t quite time for winter coats. Yet.

I pushed through a patch of dormant brush to where the path was wide enough for us to walk side by side. “Technically we’re a week away from the season. Once it’s open, hunting is restricted to short windows. Thirty minutes before sunrise and thirty minutes after sunset and—you’re laughing. What did I say?”

Waylon snickered. “Nothing. You’re just so informative.”

“I’m nervous,” I admitted.

“Me too.”

He wasn’t nervous. No way. Waylon oozed calm. His gait was confident—shoulders back, a long stride, and an obvious instinct for being in the wilderness. And he didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by the trickery involved.

“What did my kids say to you?”

“They asked if I wanted to join you on the family hike, and not to text you. I called the number and spoke to Rhys. I’ve watched, read, and listened to my share of true murder mysteries, thank you very much. ‘Man responds to random text and meets his demise. Subscribe to our channel to continue.’ ”

“That doesn’t happen around here,” I huffed.

“That’s exactly how those podcasts begin,” Waylon singsonged. “Anyway, Rhys said you were busy, but the more the merrier. Since they’re a couple of no-shows, this is a setup.”

“Looks that way. I was going to take the short trail with them to Elmwood and get milkshakes at the diner.”

“Is that the one we took on our non-kid sanctioned hike?”

I chuckled. “Yeah, but I think you can handle the medium trail. It’ll take us an hour and a half to get there and another hour and a half back. The hills are steep in some parts and we’ve had a little rain, so it might be sludgy. You have the right boots for it, though.”

He ducked under a low branch. “What’s the long trail like?”

“It’s more like a camping trip. The trails go up and down the pass, out to the lake, and zigzag through the forest. It can be done in a day, but it’s exhausting. There’re a few clearings for camping in between, and most families from the area know which ones have more bear activity than others. We tell tourists too, but they don’t always listen.”

“And that’s where you come in, raising hell to keep law and order?”

“If they need us, yes. Usually, a forest ranger comes to the rescue. We get called in if they need backup for suspicious activity, drugs, or reckless endangerment, or—I’m talking too much.” I snorted. “Your turn.”

Waylon chuckled. “I’m still wondering how we got here.”

“This is Gretchen’s doing. Dad gave her the idea, but she ran with it. She’s a romantic. Her mom and I divorced when she was a toddler, so she’s never really had the traditional upbringing she reads about or sees in movies. And not to burst your bubble, but she’s tried to set me up before. Most famously with her mom. Like a scene out of The Parent Trap.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. She was about seven at the time, and I think she might have watched the movie with my sister or even Jess. Anyway, one day, Gretchen picked flowers from my parents’ garden, tied them with a ribbon, and left them on Jess’s doormat with a note supposedly from me. ‘To Jess, From Reg, I heart U.’ ”

“Aww, that’s kind of sweet.”

“Maybe, but it’s not reality. I had to reprimand her for taking flowers from Grandma without asking and gently remind her that her mom and I were divorced. Gretch didn’t seem to think that was a problem. She’d heard lots of stories of parents who get back together and maybe we could, too. I said something like, ‘Those are nice stories’ and changed the topic, thinking I’d made my point.”

Waylon stepped over a fallen log. “Not quite?”

“Nope. She called me at the station and asked me to come by Jess’s house after work. She made something I had to see, and it couldn’t wait till the weekend. Turned out to be dinner. She’d made spaghetti all by herself, set the table with place mats and two cards with our names on them. Mom and Dad.” I smiled at the memory. “That was…”