Retreat
Page 29
Cyrus Warner hugged hard. His arms were tight. His body was massive and warm where it engulfed mine. The way he squeezed me was anything but gentle. His voice was low and raspy in my ear as he told me, “You were scared and you did it anyway. Proud of you.” His arms tightened a fraction, then he let me go so that Em’s arms could replace his as she wrapped me up in a much softer embrace.
I was right about Em’s crying for me. She had shiny eyes but her smile was bright and I could see both pride and relief mixed with equal fervor in her dark gaze. “I’m so fucking proud of you, Leo.”
I moved back so I could pull the helmet off and shake out my hair. “I’m pretty proud of me, too.” But there was no denying that having Cy’s approval, and now Em’s, made me feel like I had tackled something bigger than a mountain.
She laughed and let me use her to brace myself as I worked the harness off my legs. “Just think how many more amazing experiences we’re going to have by the end of the week. There won’t be anything we can’t handle by the time we get back home.”
Little did we know then how those experiences would ultimately shape the rest of our lives. Those experiences would change the women we were and the way we loved. There was no running from any of that either.
The rest of the day passed with less excitement and with no unexpected wakeup calls in the middle of the night. Day three brought another long ride, but also a little reprieve from the saddle when we got to go canoeing on a beautiful mountain lake. It was so crystal clear and unendingly blue that I could see all the way to the bottom to watch the occasional fish swim by. The water was as cold as the snow runoff that fed it, and I was tempted to jump in and scrub the smell of three days of riding, sweat, sunscreen, and bug spray off, even though we had a shower waiting later that night. I held off though because Em was actually starting to wilt. She was no longer as fresh as a daisy either, so I was feeling less self-conscious about my transformation into the Pioneer Woman.
The lazy day on the lake was followed by a ride into an actual campsite that was maintained by the Wyoming Parks department, which meant there was a real grill, actual campsites, and minimal facilities for us to use for the evening. They weren’t five-star accommodations by any stretch of the imagination, but to me the camp looked like The Ritz-Carlton and I almost kissed Lane when he told me we were having chili for dinner instead of fish. I liked fresh fish, and there was something very primal and cool about catching and eating your own dinner, but after two days of nothing but trout, PB&J, and granola, I was ready for something different. I would have preferred Brynn’s pancakes, but since they weren’t an option, canned chili and campfire cornbread would do.
I wanted to push everyone else out of the way and dive into the rusted and slightly scary looking showers, but I figured I would take the longest, since I was the one who smelled the worst, and because my hair had really turned into the wild and untamed lion’s mane Lane accused me of having. I offered to help the younger Warner brother with dinner while everyone else was shuffling around getting settled and cleaned up. Cy pulled his typical disappearing act and when I questioned Lane about it, he laughed and told me it was better to let Cy handle the horses than try and force him to interact with humans. Both brothers were still on edge after the midnight gunshots, but Lane effortlessly slipped back into his happy-go-lucky persona, while Cy seemed hypervigilant and overly aware of every noise and sound that we didn’t make on the trail. So far, we hadn’t encountered anyone else or been surprised by anything unexpected. While the silence made me breathe easier when we bunked down for the night, the absence of anyone or anything else appeared to make the two men who didn’t bother to engage with the rest of us angry. Their expressions were hard. Their conversations with each other clipped and silted. One or the other was always wandering off away from the rest of the group and when they returned it was with heavy footsteps and lots of mumbled dirty words. They continually brushed off the warning that Cy and Lane gave about sticking together and didn’t seem at all interested in any of the required camping activities. It was as if they were expecting something else, and were searching for something they couldn’t find. Though what they could possibly be looking for out here in the middle of nowhere baffled me.
When everyone settled down to eat, looking refreshed and slightly back to their normal, non-trail riding selves, I asked Em to save me dinner and took myself, my small toiletry bag, and a change of clothes clutched in my eager hands to the shower. The whole time I walked to the tin and wood building, I told myself this wasn’t Camp Crystal Lake and there wasn’t any chance that a chainsaw-wielding Jason was going to jump out from behind a tree and slaughter me. It was creepy—or maybe that was my mind making more of this scenario than it should. When I opened the door, I quickly learned that it was also a his and hers facility. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust in the dim light, but when they did, they landed on the most stunning thing I had ever seen in my life. A very naked and very wet Cyrus Warner. There was no mistaking that massive, hard-cut body, or the midnight hair shot through with shiny silver. Water sluiced over unending plains of muscle and tanned skin making him look like some ancient sea god . . . or like a real life fantasy, even if he wasn’t quite a cowboy. He was built for women to worship and for other men to be impressed by. I swore there wasn’t a finer ass on the planet than the one I couldn’t seem to look away from, even as the muscles flexed and tensed as he turned to look over his shoulder at me.
I was right about Em’s crying for me. She had shiny eyes but her smile was bright and I could see both pride and relief mixed with equal fervor in her dark gaze. “I’m so fucking proud of you, Leo.”
I moved back so I could pull the helmet off and shake out my hair. “I’m pretty proud of me, too.” But there was no denying that having Cy’s approval, and now Em’s, made me feel like I had tackled something bigger than a mountain.
She laughed and let me use her to brace myself as I worked the harness off my legs. “Just think how many more amazing experiences we’re going to have by the end of the week. There won’t be anything we can’t handle by the time we get back home.”
Little did we know then how those experiences would ultimately shape the rest of our lives. Those experiences would change the women we were and the way we loved. There was no running from any of that either.
The rest of the day passed with less excitement and with no unexpected wakeup calls in the middle of the night. Day three brought another long ride, but also a little reprieve from the saddle when we got to go canoeing on a beautiful mountain lake. It was so crystal clear and unendingly blue that I could see all the way to the bottom to watch the occasional fish swim by. The water was as cold as the snow runoff that fed it, and I was tempted to jump in and scrub the smell of three days of riding, sweat, sunscreen, and bug spray off, even though we had a shower waiting later that night. I held off though because Em was actually starting to wilt. She was no longer as fresh as a daisy either, so I was feeling less self-conscious about my transformation into the Pioneer Woman.
The lazy day on the lake was followed by a ride into an actual campsite that was maintained by the Wyoming Parks department, which meant there was a real grill, actual campsites, and minimal facilities for us to use for the evening. They weren’t five-star accommodations by any stretch of the imagination, but to me the camp looked like The Ritz-Carlton and I almost kissed Lane when he told me we were having chili for dinner instead of fish. I liked fresh fish, and there was something very primal and cool about catching and eating your own dinner, but after two days of nothing but trout, PB&J, and granola, I was ready for something different. I would have preferred Brynn’s pancakes, but since they weren’t an option, canned chili and campfire cornbread would do.
I wanted to push everyone else out of the way and dive into the rusted and slightly scary looking showers, but I figured I would take the longest, since I was the one who smelled the worst, and because my hair had really turned into the wild and untamed lion’s mane Lane accused me of having. I offered to help the younger Warner brother with dinner while everyone else was shuffling around getting settled and cleaned up. Cy pulled his typical disappearing act and when I questioned Lane about it, he laughed and told me it was better to let Cy handle the horses than try and force him to interact with humans. Both brothers were still on edge after the midnight gunshots, but Lane effortlessly slipped back into his happy-go-lucky persona, while Cy seemed hypervigilant and overly aware of every noise and sound that we didn’t make on the trail. So far, we hadn’t encountered anyone else or been surprised by anything unexpected. While the silence made me breathe easier when we bunked down for the night, the absence of anyone or anything else appeared to make the two men who didn’t bother to engage with the rest of us angry. Their expressions were hard. Their conversations with each other clipped and silted. One or the other was always wandering off away from the rest of the group and when they returned it was with heavy footsteps and lots of mumbled dirty words. They continually brushed off the warning that Cy and Lane gave about sticking together and didn’t seem at all interested in any of the required camping activities. It was as if they were expecting something else, and were searching for something they couldn’t find. Though what they could possibly be looking for out here in the middle of nowhere baffled me.
When everyone settled down to eat, looking refreshed and slightly back to their normal, non-trail riding selves, I asked Em to save me dinner and took myself, my small toiletry bag, and a change of clothes clutched in my eager hands to the shower. The whole time I walked to the tin and wood building, I told myself this wasn’t Camp Crystal Lake and there wasn’t any chance that a chainsaw-wielding Jason was going to jump out from behind a tree and slaughter me. It was creepy—or maybe that was my mind making more of this scenario than it should. When I opened the door, I quickly learned that it was also a his and hers facility. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust in the dim light, but when they did, they landed on the most stunning thing I had ever seen in my life. A very naked and very wet Cyrus Warner. There was no mistaking that massive, hard-cut body, or the midnight hair shot through with shiny silver. Water sluiced over unending plains of muscle and tanned skin making him look like some ancient sea god . . . or like a real life fantasy, even if he wasn’t quite a cowboy. He was built for women to worship and for other men to be impressed by. I swore there wasn’t a finer ass on the planet than the one I couldn’t seem to look away from, even as the muscles flexed and tensed as he turned to look over his shoulder at me.
