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“Are Pony Express reenactors even supposed to carry phones?” I ask. “Doesn’t that ruin the whole living history experience?”

“Not really.” Jake shrugs. “It’s cool as long as I don’t get caught.”

Colton grips his coffee mug with white knuckles. I’m pretty sure that when he finally releases it, there will be impressions of his fingers in the tin.

“But…we caught you.” I wave my hand back and forth between me and Colton.

Jake looks up briefly. “It’s not like you’re going to narc on me, babe.” He doesn’t even bother acknowledging Colton. “This is one of the few places where you can sometimes get signal on the trail before we reach Fort Bellows.”

“I’ve got to go pack up my things,” Colton says, pushing himself up from the table.

I stand, too. “Do you have a minute?” I ask. “I was hoping we could—”

“Maybe later.”

Colton’s words say one thing, but the tone of his voice makes it clear that if he has his way, there won’t be a later.

My butt hits the bench with disappointment. As I watch him retreat to the other side of the campsite, I stab at what’s left of my johnny cake in frustration. Not only has Jake eaten most of my breakfast and ruined my appetite, but he’s made things weird between Colton and me.

“I’ll always have a minute for you, babe,” Jake says, glancing up from his texting to flash me what he thinks is a disarming smile.

The problem is: one minute with Jake is one minute too many.

CHAPTER 24

Colton

AFTER TAKING CARE of the mules, I lead Chance out into the prairie to let him graze on some prairie June grass, buffalo grass, and blue grama. He nuzzles his head against my shoulder and swishes his tail, happy for something other than the grain and hay we brought for him to eat.

Sinking into the solitude, I take a deep breath. It’s easier to think out here, away from the wagons and the hubbub of packing and loading and getting ready for another day on the trail. Away from Jake, who always manages to needle my last nerve. Away from Riley, who’s somehow managed to get swept up in Jake and his antics. After everything we’ve shared these past few days, I expected her to see past his bullshit. After all, she saw through mine.

And now she’s lodged up under my skin like a splinter—a smart, sharp, sweet splinter—but a splinter that’ll take a fair amount of poking and prodding to work loose.

If only I could forget the way her hands felt tucked under mine, soft and warm and right. Or the way she bites her bottom lip when she’s concentrating on a sketch in her notebook. Or the way her dark brown eyes go wide just before she laughs at one of my jokes, as if she’s not quite sure if I’m being serious or if I have a stealth sense of humor tucked away under my Stetson.

A red-tailed hawk soars in a wide arc above us. Her shriek is loud enough that Chance pauses his chewing for a moment but not quite interesting enough to get him to lift his head from his meal. My eyes trace her gliding circle, the tips of her feathers barely fluttering. She eases lower, her wings slightly angled to slow her descent. Just before she disappears into the prairie grass, her talons extend before her. Her hunt must have been successful, since she doesn’t reappear to take to the skies.

Before Riley, moments like these were just part of being on the trail. I didn’t exactly take them for granted but I definitely wasn’t awed by them, either. Being out here alone used to be refreshing. But now that I know how it feels to share moments like this with Riley, the space beside me feels hollow without her in it.

The sound of boots crunching toward us has both me and Chance turning our heads. He snorts when he recognizes Jake sauntering over with his fake bow-legged cowboy swagger.

“ ’Sup, dude,” Jake says with a nod.

I return the nod but tension radiates outward from my spine, causing my fingers to flex at my sides.

“So, what’s the deal with Riley?” He brushes his hand across his nose and shifts his weight, not because he actually has an itchy face or an uncomfortable stance but because he thinks it makes him look cool.

“Deal?” I ask.

“She’s cute and all. But is she, like, single? Down to mingle?”

The fact that Jake actually talks like this on a daily basis never ceases to amaze me.

“You’ll have to ask her yourself.”

“C’mon, man, help me out,” he says, lightly punching my shoulder. “You’ve spent a few days with her. There’s gotta be something you can tell me to give me an in with her.”

Hell would have to freeze over before I help Jake get with Riley.