Page 65 of The Route to You

But now she had no way to call them first. She didn’t even have Cheyenne’s number memorized.

Cheyenne, who is probably hurt and confused about why you didn’t talk to her. I really wish I could send her a message to let her know I’m okay. I should have sent one before this.

Sloan gritted her teeth. “My matron of honor—Cheyenne—well, my best friend, really. Her parents have a ranch in Jackson Hole. They might be able to help us.”

He studied her. “Is that something you’re comfortable doing?”

She braced her fingertips against her temple, glancing back at the dog. “I don’t know,” she said, surprised at her ability to be honest with him. “They’re nice people. And Cheyenne is my friend, not really Evan’s. But I didn’t exactly tell her where I was going, or with whom. And it’s . . . it’s all a little complicated, you know?”

He grabbed his phone off the windshield again. “Let me see what animal hospitals exist around here. If any. If I have service.” He tapped into the keyboard. “Miracle. I do. Oh, there’s one in downtown Jackson . . . for their established clients only.”

He fell silent, clicking through other links. “These sites aren’t loading. I think service is intermittent.”

The dog jerked suddenly, then yelped again, trying to push off the back seat with his good back leg.

Dammit.

“You know what? Let’s not overthink this. We can just go to Cheyenne’s parents’ place. I don’t know the address, but once we get to Jackson Hole, I can direct you from there.”

He nodded, already turning the wheel to merge back onto the road. “Then I’ll follow your lead. So long as your sense of direction has improved from that time you got us lost in that corn maze, we’ll be there in an hour-ish. Hopefully.”

Her mouth curved, her memory betraying her, heart tugging. “You know full well why we got lost in that corn maze, Kyle Winnick.”

He gave an impish smile. “The way I remember it, that was just you consoling me.” He drove back into the snow, his shoulders relaxed without a hint of tension.

Just driving forward, decisively, without debate or calculation of inconvenience.

She almost sighed aloud with relief.

17

KYLE

When Sloan had mentioned ranch, he hadn’t pictured this.

This wasn’t a ranch.

This large, sprawling behemoth at the end of an enormous driveway was a luxury mansion on an acreage that included a pristine view of the Grand Tetons.

Kyle blew a low whistle as he pulled up to the front gate, where a call box waited. “Your friend Cheyenne, from Wyoming, grew up with a very nice backyard.”

Sloan smiled. “Yeah, yeah. She’s well aware that she shares the same name as the state capital. Also, her family hails back to the first explorers who set up permanent settlements. Like the 1840s or something. Her mother is part Sioux, too. So this land is really in her blood. She’s proud as hell of it.”

“You know more about Cheyenne’s ancestry than I know about my own. Is that what rich people do?” He brushed off his shoulder and mocked in a laughing tone, “I’m a Winnick of the trailer park just outside of Nashville. You know—the original trailers brought out by Davy Crockett himself.”

“Oh, shut it.” She glared at him as she hopped out of the car, crossing in the headlights to get to the call box.

Snow was falling faster than Kyle liked, and the sun was already low in the sky.

Pressure built in his chest.

He wouldn’t have cared, except he needed to be at Bozeman-Yellowstone International by four in the afternoon tomorrow, for a flight to Los Angeles.

The thought of sunny beaches and whale watching within a couple of days was a strange reality he still hadn’t wrapped his brain around. Especially considering Granny’s urn was still in the Jeep, waiting for him to finish what he’d originally intended to do today.

But cracking open that door and letting Sloan into his stress about any of that wasn’t something he was ready for. And now that she had a new worry to focus on—Charlie, the name she’d given the dog in the back seat of his rental—interrupting her extremely chaotic presence to his life with something like his schedule seemed almost unfair.

The passenger door opened again, and Sloan slipped in as the front gate swung open. “Well, they’re thoroughly confused by my arrival, but they said come on in . So . . . this should be fun.”