As she processes my credit card, I catch her giving Caleb a look loaded with unspoken questions. He ignores it with practiced ease.
"There's a diner across the street if you get hungry," she tells me, handing over an actual metal key. "And my number's on the phone if you need anything."
"I appreciate it."
Caleb insists on carrying my small bag to the room, checking the locks on the windows and door with an attention to security that would seem paranoid from anyone else. From him, it's just who he is, leaving nothing to chance.
"All set?" he asks, lingering awkwardly by the door.
"All set. Thank you, Caleb. For everything."
He nods once, eyes meeting mine briefly before dropping away. "Five-thirty," he reminds me, and then he's gone, the door closing softly behind him.
Alone for the first time in days, I sink onto the bed, suddenly exhausted. The room feels too large, too empty without his solid presence filling the space.
Get it together, Lila. You've known the man less than a week.
I shake off the melancholy and head for the shower, turning it as hot as it will go. The water pressure is better than I expected, and I stand under the spray until my skin is pink, washing away days of mountain grime with the complimentary shampoo.
Wrapped in a scratchy motel towel, I survey my limited wardrobe options. My hiking clothes are functional but hardly appropriate for meeting the entire McKenna clan. The only alternative is the outfit I traveled to Montana in—jeans, a soft green sweater, and ankle boots that are thankfully comfortable enough for my healing ankle.
It'll have to do.
After blowing my hair dry with the ancient wall unit, I finally check my phone. It comes to life with a cascade of missed calls, texts, emails. Most from my mother, a few from friends, nothing from Peter.
I send Mom a quick text assuring her I'm fine, just had limited service, and promise to call tomorrow. The rest can wait.
By five-fifteen, I'm ready, nerves fluttering in my stomach for reasons I don't want to examine too closely. This isn't a date. It's a ride to town and a family barbecue. Nothing more.
So why am I checking my reflection for the tenth time?
Caleb arrives at exactly five-thirty,knocking quietly on my door. When I open it, I'm momentarily speechless.
He's changed clothes. The flannel and worn jeans have been replaced with a clean button-down shirt in deep blue and darker jeans that actually fit properly. His beard is neatly trimmed, hair still damp from a shower.
He looks... incredible.
"Hi," I manage, suddenly self-conscious in my travel-worn outfit.
His eyes move over me once, quickly but thoroughly. "Ready?"
"As I'll ever be." I grab my jacket and small purse. "Lead the way, mountain man."
Ruby is waiting in the truck, tail thumping against the seat when she sees me. I scratch behind her ears, oddly touched by her greeting.
"She missed you," Caleb says, starting the engine.
"I missed her too." I glance at him. "Both of you, actually."
He doesn't respond, but his hands flex on the steering wheel.
Sawyer's house is on the outskirts of town—a large, rambling structure with a sprawling yard and several outbuildings. A half-dozen vehicles are already parked in the gravel driveway, and the sound of laughter and music drifts from the backyard.
"Last chance to back out," Caleb says as he parks.
"Not a chance. I want to meet the infamous McKennas."
His mouth quirks. "Your funeral."
