Rally (Treasure State Wildcats Book 3)

Rush’s phone buzzed—again—from its spot on top of the cooler between our chairs.

Someone had called him while he’d been inside the camper gathering everything for dinner. Someone had called him while we’d scarfed hot dogs, mine plain, his loaded with ketchup, mustard and relish. Someone had called while we’d roasted marshmallows and made s’mores.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

“Do you need to get that?” I asked, amazed that he even had service.

He must have Verizon. I couldn’t afford Verizon, and my discount provider clearly wasn’t as reliable in the Montana wilderness. Though I’d give it credit for that YouTube video, even if it had taken forever to load.

“Nope.” Rush swept up his phone, gave the screen a withering glare and declined this call like he had the last.

A heavy silence settled over the campsite, as palpable as the fire’s smoke. Every time his phone vibrated, Rush tensed. He’d frown and grit his teeth. By the time he relaxed and stopped glaring at the fire, it would ring again and we’d start this loop of super awkward all over again.

Someone really wanted to get ahold of Rush and he was really not interested in being gotten ahold of.

If not for the insistent calls, it might have been enjoyable to sit here tonight. Well, as enjoyable as it could be sitting beside a stranger. But now I’d started to feel like an intruder.

Maybe he wanted to answer the phone. Maybe he wasn’t taking those calls because he felt some sort of obligation to entertain me since he’d invited me to stay in the first place.

“I should go.” I’d claim the first empty campsite I came to along the road, lock myself in the car and sleep until dawn.

Not a chance I’d drive home in the dark with my tires on that gravel road. I’d wait until morning, then never, ever go camping again.

“Thanks again.”

“Don’t go. Please.” He stopped me before I could push out of the chair. Then he shut off his phone and slid it into a pocket of his jeans. “It’s my girlfriend.”

He had a girlfriend? Good. That made all of this easier. I didn’t have to worry about dodging a lame pickup line. Not that Rush would ever try to pick me up.

The idea of him hitting on me was, well . . . ridiculous. Guys who looked like Rush Ramsey, who played college football and drove a new Yukon and slept in a fifth-wheel camper with those fancy pop-outs, did not go for girls like me.

I bet his girlfriend was stunning. Supermodel beautiful. She probably wore designer-label jeans and had her nails done each week.

Rush and I were from two very different worlds. No, he wouldn’t hit on me.

And now I felt a little sleazy for checking him out while he’d been cooking our hot dogs. In my defense, it was hard not to stare at a guy like Rush. He was the kind of good-looking that didn’t seem real.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

“She’s not very happy with me at the moment.” He turned his hat backward, then forward. A nervous habit? “We got into a fight before I left.”

“Oh. I can go if you want to call her back. Talk it out.”

He shook his head, brown eyes glued to the flames. “Don’t go.”

There was a plea in that request. Like if I was here, he wouldn’t have to call her back.

And if I stayed, out here in the mountains with questionable service, I wouldn’t have to call and check in with Justin. Had he tried to call me? I didn’t want that answer.

So I stayed in my seat because he’d done me a favor with my tire and if he wanted company for a while longer, I could do that. And because I didn’t want to go, not really.

I’d been sitting here for almost two hours, and with every passing minute, I found myself relaxing. Breathing. That’s why I’d come up here, right? For an escape?

For a chance to take a break, even if it was only for one night.

The evening light was slowly fading, the bright blue growing darker overhead as the sun inched closer to the jagged mountain horizon in the distance. The lake was so calm that the water was an exact mirror to the forest and sky. Dark evergreens and a brilliant swath of yellow and gold from the sun.

“I’ve never watched a sunset,” I said. “You know how you catch pieces of it if you’re driving or something. But I’ve never sat in one spot and watched the sun set.”

“The only time I do is when I come up here camping.”

Camping. Maybe it hadn’t been the worst idea after all.

I gave him a small smile, studying his gaze in the fading light. His chocolate irises were flecked with gold and ringed in charcoal. His eyelashes were long and sooty. No man should be blessed with such nice eyelashes.

“Thanks, Rush. For the tire. And the hot dog. And the s’mores.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me, Faye.”

Very few people did me favors, so yes, I would keep thanking him. “I want to make sure I have it covered so when I leave, I don’t feel guilty and drive back.”

He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the sides before he sighed and returned his gaze to the fire.

Rush stretched out his legs, crossing them at his ankles. “Halsey, my girlfriend, doesn’t like camping. She wanted me to stay home and go with her to this party her friend is hosting. But I’d already told Mom and Dad I’d come up and stay in the camper tonight. And I like it up here. She doesn’t understand why I wouldn’t cancel, and I don’t understand what’s so important about a party. It shouldn’t have become a fight, but it feels like everything . . . escalates. So I told her I wanted some space for a few days.”

And instead of giving him that space, she’d been bombarding his phone.

“Sorry.” He pulled off his hat, dragging a hand through his dirty-blond hair. He put it on facing backward, then turned it forward. “I don’t know why I unloaded that on you.”

“It’s all right.”

He slouched even deeper into his chair, until his nape was against the back and his face was aimed toward the darkening sky overhead. He yawned.

It was contagious. A yawn stretched my mouth as I sagged into my chair. Weeks, months, years of exhaustion seemed to crash forward.

“What’s it going to take to convince you to camp here instead of trekking around the lake?”

“Not much,” I murmured.

“Good. I don’t want you out there alone.”

The protective tone in his deep voice made my chest feel tight. I wasn’t used to anyone other than Dusty being protective. Justin certainly hadn’t worried about me spending the night out here alone.

I stared at the flames, drawing my knees into the chair as I hugged them to my chest, trying to ignore the strange flutter in my heart. “Thanks, Rush.”

“That’s the last one, okay?”

“No promises.”

He chuckled, a sound so natural it felt like I’d heard it a thousand times. The super awkward was gone, disappearing more quickly than I’d expected. But without that phone buzzing constantly, the air cleared.

It was comfortable. I still had a can of bear spray on the ground by my chair, but I dropped my guard because this felt . . . easy.

I liked easy.

I liked that Rush didn’t feel the need to fill every waking second with noise or conversation. I liked sitting in the peace and quiet, watching a fire crackle and a sunset.

I needed more easy in my life, even if that meant making some changes. Big changes.

Starting with Justin. Was it weird that he was so close to Alexa? Or was I being paranoid?

“Can I ask you something?” I asked, waiting for Rush to nod. “My boyfriend’s best friend from high school is visiting this weekend. She’s, um . . . affectionate.”

Rush looked over and arched an eyebrow. “Affectionate?”

“They touch a lot. I’ll be holding his hand, and she’ll take the other one. She kisses his cheek when she comes into the room, and her hugs linger a long time. Is that strange?”

“The fuck? Yeah, that’s strange.”

The air rushed from my lungs. “Thank you. That was the validation I needed.”

“What does he do?” Rush asked.

“He holds her hand. He hugs her back.”

And it broke my heart every time.

When she’d slide into his side, he’d tuck her close. While they watched a movie, they’d curl up with each other on the end of the couch, and I might as well not exist.

“She’s visiting this weekend,” I told Rush.

“Hence why you’re camping.”

“Yep. I needed to get out of the house.”

“You live together?”

I nodded. “Yeah. For about six months.”

And after I bought new tires, it would probably be another six by the time I’d saved a deposit and first month’s rent to leave. But I would leave. “I’m moving out of Justin’s place as soon as I can afford it.”

“I’m going to break up with Halsey,” Rush murmured, more to himself than to me. Like he’d finally come to a decision and the only way to cement it was to say it aloud. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have told you that. Not before Halsey.”

“Yeah. Same here.” There was a twinge of guilt, but I’d needed to say it out loud too. I’d needed to tell someone so that when I returned home, I didn’t lose my nerve. “I won’t say anything.”

“Neither will I.” He sat up straight, standing from his chair to tend the fire. As he tossed on another piece of wood, a surge of embers burst above the flames. “Want help setting up your tent?”

“No tent,” I said. “I’m just sleeping in my car.”

“Oh.” He looked to the Explorer and his smile faded. “The table in the camper turns into a bed. It’s yours if you want it. You can keep your bear spray tucked under your pillow.”

“That’s okay. But thanks.”

“Figured you’d say that.” He returned to his seat, and we fell into more of that easy silence.

We stared into the fire, not talking, just breathing and thinking and watching the sun until it touched the jagged mountain horizon, casting the sky in a kaleidoscope of pink and gold and blue.

“Camping,” I whispered.

“Not bad, right?” He smiled, flashing me straight, white teeth and a dimple on his left cheek.

Something strange fluttered in my chest, a feeling I’d never had before. I rubbed at my sternum until it was gone. Then I smiled back. “Not bad at all.”

Rush leaned forward, dropping his elbows to his knees as he twisted to look at me. “You really haven’t heard of me before?”

I laughed so loud it startled me. When was the last time a laugh had taken me by surprise? Too long. “This again?”

The firelight limned his face, accentuating the sharp corners of his jaw. The straight line of his nose. The soft pout of his lips. He grinned and spun his hat backward, and damn if I didn’t feel that flutter again.

He was so handsome it was dangerous.

Good thing I had a boyfriend. And he had a girlfriend.

“Your ego needed me,” I teased.

His arrogant smirk shouldn’t have been so attractive. “Probably.”

“I’m not into sports.”

“Then what are you into?”

I shrugged. “School. Work.”

“Hobbies?”

Hobbies were expensive. They cost money and time, both of which were a luxury for me at the moment. “Someday, I’ll have hobbies. I work a lot.”

“Where?”

“Dolly’s Diner.”

His forehead furrowed. “Is that in Mission?”

No surprise he hadn’t heard of it before. Dolly’s wasn’t exactly where people like Rush spent time. But that was something I was trying to change.

Dolly’s might not be fancy or new. It wasn’t even all that convenient for students. It was fading, slowly, but I refused to let it die.

“It’s on the outskirts of town,” I told him. And not the best part of town.

“Favorite item on the menu?”

“Pancakes.” Dusty made them with a special batter that had been her mom’s recipe. They were light and fluffy and sweet. Whenever I had a bad day, she’d make me pancakes.

“I’ll have to try it out,” he said, and for the first time today, it sounded like a lie.

We wouldn’t see each other again, would we? I’d return to my life in Mission and he’d return to his, our paths unlikely to cross. Rush wouldn’t come eat pancakes at Dolly’s, and I’d never watch his football games.

Two people from two different worlds.

The easy vanished, snuffed out with pleasantries and politeness.

I missed it immediately.

“I think I’ll call it a night.” I bent and picked up my bear spray, and when I made a move to stand, he didn’t stop me this time. “Good night, Rush.”

“Night, Faye.”

With a wave, I left the fire, the chill from the night air biting into my skin. I climbed into the back of the Explorer, shifting the seats so they lay flat. Then I unfolded the blankets I’d brought from home, forming a makeshift bed, and traded out my jeans for a pair of loose sweats and a hoodie.

My hair smelled like campfire smoke. I wanted to brush my teeth, and sooner rather than later, I’d need to pee. There was no way I’d fall asleep. It was too quiet without noise from neighbors or traffic. I was too aware of Rush still outside.

So I stared out the window, snug in my makeshift bed, through the glass and past the treetops to a sliver of sky that changed from blue to black.

And spent a sleepless night camping beneath the stars.

Alone.