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My youngest brother, everybody. Champion of good sense and wise decisions.
“Is that the extent of your advice?”
“Basically.” He starts crunching on whatever energy bar he has on hand, ignoring that I don’t want to listen to him chew. “You’ve been keeping the business together forever. You keep Dean and me in line, and you make sure Mom and Dad don’t work themselves into the ground. You deserve to do something for yourself.”
“Why do you think I’m taking a sabbatical?”
“From the looks of your cabin, it’s not to have a good time.In the unlikely event you get the chance, please don’t take a woman there. It has creepy stalker vibes all over it.”
“I’m starting to think you never looked up the cabin.” The pictures on the website look nicer than Rhett’s apartment, but that’s a pretty low bar to hit.
“I filled in the blanks from how you described it. But my point remains: do—and I cannot stress this enough—the stupid thing.”
“Thank you for your wisdom. I’ll see what I can do.” Can’t really imagine what kinds of stupid things I’ll encounter on my quick hike followed by three weeks relaxing at a remote cabin, but if something comes up…who am I kidding? Taking Rhett’s advice is never a smart move.
Whatever he’s chewing muffles his laughter. “I’m only here to serve.”
“I should go check in.”
“Stupid thing! Stupid thing!”
“Goodbye, Rhett.”
He continues chanting until I thumb off the phone. If our middle brother Dean had called, he would have encouraged me to make an even more detailed itinerary for my trip. He’s a big fan of numbers, schedules, and calendars. Only Rhett would consider stupid choices something to be indulged in.
Then again, Dean has loosened up quite a bit since he met his wife. Maybe he would have joined in Rhett’s chant, after all. His wife absolutely would have. Eliza proves daily that she doesn’t believe in letting fun opportunities pass her by.
I finish the last of the too-sweet coffee, grab my bag, and stand to face the counter. My gorgeous temptation is still chatting with the barista, her back to me as she tells him about other tea drinks she’d like to see on their menu one day.
I have a sudden interest in fruit jellies and taro slushes, whatever those are.
Approaching her would absolutely count as a stupid thing. Rhett’s rash pep talk has me half-convinced to do it, but I hesitate. At most, I’m in town for a month. And she sounds like a local, but she’s also dragging rolling luggage behind her. She’s on her way somewhere, too.
Chatting up a strange woman in a strange town, knowing we’re both here temporarily? That’s never been my style. But I start leaning her way anyhow, as if my body’s ready to test out Rhett’s advice. What’s the worst that could happen?
The answer to that thought pops into my head, showering icy pellets over the warm fuzzies this woman brought out in me. There’s a good reason I haven’t dated seriously in almost five years. Ever since Kelsey burned down our relationship, I’ve kept my distance from flames.
This woman is a four-alarm fire.
I toss the empty coffee cup into the trash as I push through the café door, telling myself that by the time I’m done with this hike, I’ll have forgotten all about her.
Even if her smile is etched into my retinas.
Inside Horizon Hikes, I meet up with the owners-slash-guides, Deena and Mitchell Choi, and finish signing the waivers for the trip. They introduce me to the other hikers: two couples who are also good friends who meet up every summer for an adventure. Brian and Cindy Monroe, and Scott and Shannon Allen are celebrating turning sixty this year with our hike in the National Forest. They’re giddier than kids getting ready for summer camp.
I expected it to be a small group, but I didn’t think I’d be fifth-wheeling this trip.
“This must be a nice change for you,”Shannon says to me. She’s leaning on her hiking poles like she’s ready to head out the door and straight into the woods. “Getting to see some mountains and a break from all of that humidity in Texas.”
She fans herself as though the weather followed me here.
I can’t say she’s wrong about the humidity—we’re already in peak summer mugginess back home—but I don’t correct her about the mountains. Sure, Texas is pretty flat, but I’m an avid mountaineer and have summited peaks even taller than the ones around here. I always feel like a jerk when I point it out, though. I don’t want to be that guy who says, “Well, actually…”
“I’m looking forward to seeing a little bit of Oregon.” Even if it will only be forests and mountains, it works for me.
“After, you should head up to Portland for a night or two,” Brian tells me. “There’s a pub crawl down Mississippi Street that’ll knock you out even better than this hike.”
It’s not lost on me that a man my father’s age is suggesting I relax with a pub crawl, while my vacation plans can best be described as “hermit-friendly.”
