Capri stepped outside for a breath of air and found herself staring up at a sky pricked with stars. Jake followed and wrapped his arms around her.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
She nodded, her voice catching. “Yeah. Just…I didn’t think I’d ever have this.”
Jake pressed a kiss to her temple. “It was always waiting. You just had to stop running.”
Behind them, the fiddle music rose again, and someone—probably Pastor Pete—let out a whoop loud enough to wake the dead.
Capri smiled. “Come on,” she said, taking Jake’s hand. “Let’s go back in. This is our town. And tonight, Thunder Mountain is throwing one heck of a party.”
20
Charlie Grace checked her reflection in the side mirror of her truck, ran a hand through her curls, then laughed at herself. “It’s not that big of a deal—only a date,” she murmured, though her heart clearly hadn’t gotten the memo.
While their original plan got delayed by a surprise wedding, Nick had adjusted with ease and rescheduled. “Dress comfortable,” he’d added with that maddening half-grin that always made her suspicious. And intrigued.
She pulled into the gravel driveway leading to Nick’s place—a log-sided home tucked near the tree line on the west side of Jackson, where the valley floor met the rise of lodgepole and fir. The house looked like something out of a Robert Redford film—sturdy and handsome, with a front porch strung in market lights and a stack of firewood piled with precision.
Before she could knock, the front door opened and Nick stepped out, coffee in one hand, a red-checkered bandana in the other. He wore dark jeans and a lightweight, zip-up canvas jacket over a white T-shirt, the kind that looked like it had seen a few adventures. His boots were broken-in leather, clean but clearly lived-in. The morning breeze ruffled his hair, and the glint of aviator sunglasses tucked into his jacket pocket was the only nod to anything out of the ordinary—except for the goofy expression that said he was far too pleased with himself.
“Well,” he said, handing her the bandana, “you’re right on time.”
She raised a brow. “On time for what?”
Nick grinned. “We’ve got an adventure to chase.”
Her pulse skipped. “Are you finally going to show me how to use your Leica M3?”
“Tempting,” he said. “But no—no cameras today. We’re heading somewhere. Come on.”
They climbed into his truck, and Nick wouldn’t say a word about their destination. Just fiddled with the radio, humming along to old country tunes and occasionally glancing her way like a man carrying a secret in his chest.
After thirty minutes and a winding drive up a forest road, they came to a spot where Nick shut off the engine, climbed out, and came around to open her door.
“Ready?”
She gave him a slow smile. “I’m not sure.”
The sound of gravel crunching under her boots echoed in the silence as she followed Nick down a narrow path through the trees. They emerged into a sun-drenched clearing—and there it was. A small silver aircraft sat on a makeshift airstrip of mown grass, its polished nose gleaming in the morning light like something out of an old postcard.
Charlie Grace stopped in her tracks. “Nick…”
He glanced back at her, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Surprise.”
“A plane? You weren’t kidding about an adventure.”
“I never kid,” he said, pushing up the sleeves of his jacket. “Well, almost never.”
He led her around the plane with a quiet reverence, his hand skimming the edge of the wing. “It’s a 1959 Cessna 172. She belonged to my grandfather. I’ve been restoring her for years. Had her flown from California and I’ve been taking her out on occasion in secret. Figured it was time to take her up again—and I wanted to share the flight with you.”
Charlie Grace stared at the plane, emotions rising like tidewater. She hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t expected him to remember the offhand comment she’d made weeks ago about wondering what the Tetons looked like from a bird’s eye view.
He opened the passenger-side door and offered his hand. “Come on, cowgirl. Let’s go see your mountains.”
The cockpit was small and smelled faintly of aged leather, oil, and the subtle tang of metal warmed by the sun. She settled into the seat, strapping in as Nick climbed in beside her, adjusting the dials with a calm competence that settled something inside her she hadn’t even realized was frayed.
He handed her a headset. “You’ll want this once we’re in the air. It’s noisy.”
