As Colt gazed around the table at his friends and family enjoying the meal he’d prepared, his emotions vacillated between content and dissatisfied. He appreciated everyone’s compliments as they gushed about how delicious everything tasted—even Frank, who seemed to be in an especially good mood that evening.
But in spite of the praise, Penny’s conspicuous absence echoed above the laughter and lively conversation.
Clearing his throat, he attempted a cool, unconcerned tone. “So, where’s Penny tonight?”
Eliza tilted her head, her eyes widening as though surprised he didn’t already know. “When I called to invite her, she said she needed to work on the article tonight, while the events of the weekend were still fresh in her mind.”
“Oh, that’s right.” As he took a slow, languid sip of water, a niggling voice in the back of his mind jeered, She probably declined to avoid being around you.
The accusation—real or imagined—weighed heavily on his heart, but he repressed the thought before it ruined the rest of the night.
“I still can’t believe Penny is writing an adventure article for the town guidebook.” Reed shook his head in incredulity. “She wouldn’t even swim in Willow Lake when we were kids.”
“Why not?” Cassie asked.
“Because of recreational water illnesses,” Luke explained, helping himself to more pilaf. “Usually from parasites. They can cause skin, ear, and eye infections, stomach cramps, vomiting, diarrh—”
“Luke,”—Cassie interrupted quickly—“I love you. But if you finish that sentence, I won’t be able to finish my dinner.”
“Does that mean I get your leftovers?” he teased.
She shot him a playful scowl as he leaned over to kiss her cheek.
“See, that’s my point,” Reed continued, still baffled. “Penny and adventures don’t exactly go together. Remember the time we built the ramp for our dirt bikes?” He directed his question to the guys. “Penny insisted we’d break our necks. And when we wouldn’t listen, she told her dad.”
“That’s right!” Jack slammed his enormous palm on the table, rattling his dinner plate. “He recited a bunch of statistics about bicycle-related injuries that scared all of us except Colt.”
Grant’s lavender-hued eyes danced with humor as he turned toward Colt. “I have to admit, I wasn’t sure you’d survive that jump.”
“He almost didn’t,” Reed chuckled. “I’ve never seen anyone take such a hard spill in all my life.”
“Hey!” Colt protested with a good-natured laugh. “I bet you’ve never seen anyone get that much air, either.”
“Until you crashed, skinning both your knees so badly you wore pants the rest of summer so Mom wouldn’t find out,” Luke reminded him.
Maggie gaped between her two sons, her horrified gaze landing on Colt. “That’s why you refused to wear shorts?”
Colt threw Luke a glare for spilling his secret before turning a sheepish smile on his mother. “It wasn’t that bad, Mom. I promise.”
“I bet he really wore pants so he wouldn’t have to admit Penny was right about the ramp,” Jack goaded.
“Possibly,” Colt admitted with an impish grin.
“Especially since you promised Mr. Heart you wouldn’t jump,” Reed added.
At Reed’s comment, Colt sensed an opening to ask a burning question. “What happened to him? Mr. Heart, I mean.”
“You don’t know?” Surprise flickered across Jack’s face. “The story is pretty epic. He rescued a drowning tourist from Pinedrop River before getting swept away in the current.”
“What?” Reed’s fork paused halfway to his mouth. “I thought he died from smoke inhalation after saving an entire family from a house fire.”
“No.” Eliza shook her head. “He got hypothermia when a deer broke through the ice at Willow Lake and he jumped in after it.”
“Actually,”—Beverly interjected softly—“it was gangrene. He got cut freeing a bear cub from a rusty trap.”
Silence fell across the table as everyone exchanged bewildered glances.
“I don’t understand.” Cassie frowned. “All of these stories can’t be true.”
“Sounds like a bunch of scuttlebutt, if you ask me,” Frank grumbled under his breath.
Colt scanned the group, noting the collective confusion. How was it possible no one knew how Penny’s father died? It didn’t make sense.
“Beverly,” he said tentatively as an idea formed. “The library keeps archived copies of the Poppy Creek Press, right?”
“Yes….” She squinted, as though trying to follow his train of thought.
“Could you look up the obituaries from the year he died?”
“What a good idea.” Her eyes brightened at the suggestion.
Cassie glanced between them. “Why don’t we just ask Penny?”
“I tried to… once,” Colt admitted. “She didn’t want to talk about it. It’s probably still a tough subject.”
Cassie’s face softened with sympathy. “Of course, I completely understand.”
It took a while for the festive mood to recuperate as everyone returned to their meal, still perplexed over the strange turn of events.
But even as other topics of conversation came and went, Colt couldn’t keep his mind from wandering to Penny.
Somewhere along the way, she’d captivated his attention, like a picturesque trail with a bend in the road, teasing his sense of curiosity and adventure.
And he wasn’t entirely sure what to do about it.
The click-clack of the antique Underwood typewriter reverberated off the walls of her father’s office as Penny worked on the write-up for the first two adventures.
Every few paragraphs, she took a sip of lavender tea to calm her overactive heartbeat. Reliving each activity, even by merely putting words on the page, brought back a flood of conflicting emotions.
Horseback riding had been a misleading start to the assignment, filling her with hope that had quickly been dashed by zip-lining less than twenty-four hours later.
For a brief moment, lying on the sandy bank of Chickadee Lake, she’d believed boldness resided somewhere deep inside her, untapped but waiting to burst to the surface.
For a moment, she’d finally felt free.
But today’s adventure brought her crashing back to reality.
She wasn’t bold. Or brave. Or adventurous.
In fact, she was quite the opposite—a boring, timid stick-in-the-mud who had no business pretending otherwise.
And until recently, she’d liked who she was—sort of.
Foolishly, she’d let Colt get inside her head, tempting her beyond her limitations.
She definitely wouldn’t make that mistake again.
But somehow, she needed to find a way to survive the next activities. A task that seemed beyond impossible.
After draining the last drop of tea, Penny plucked the teacup from the matching saucer and shuffled to the kitchen for a refill. Settling herself on the barstool while she waited for the water in the kettle to boil, she gazed morosely at Chip, who basked in the glow of his heat lamp.
“What am I going to do, Chip? There are three activities left. I’ll never make it.”
He blinked lazily, then shuffled around so his pointed tail faced her direction.
“Okay, okay. I get it. You don’t want me disturbing you in your happy place.” With a huff, she placed both elbows on the kitchen counter, propping her chin in her hands. Resting her gaze on the photograph of the two young girls building a sandcastle on the beach, a smile curled her lips. Her own happy place never failed to melt the tension from her shoulders.
The first time she’d learned the concept of a happy place, she’d woken her dad after a particularly terrifying nightmare. She’d recited her mantra, reassuring herself the scary dream wasn’t real, but she couldn’t shake the dark cloud that had settled around her.
As her father put on a pot of chamomile tea, he told her to think of a happy place—somewhere the fear wouldn’t be allowed to follow. And for eight-year-old Penny, the choice was easy—the ocean.
For as long as she could remember, the photograph of the sandcastle hung in their apartment. And she’d been drawn to the idyllic setting, the way the sun seemed to shine extra bright, and the water stretched on farther than her eyes could see. As an only child, she made up imaginative stories about the two girls who didn’t have a care in the world. And sometimes, the stories would feel so real, she almost believed she had set foot on the sandy shore herself.
She’d never told her dad about the happy place she’d chosen. He’d told her not to, claiming it was best to keep it a secret, safely tucked away so fear could never find it. As silly as it sounded, she almost wished she had told him. Because then, just maybe, he could visit her there.
The kettle screeched, dragging Penny from her reverie.
As she situated herself back at the desk, the fresh cup of tea steaming by her side, she stared blankly at the typewriter.
But no words came.
Instinctively, she wrapped her hand around her upper arm, cupping the same spot where Colt had held her that afternoon. Her pulse fluttered as she recalled how comforted she’d felt tucked against him. And how for a fleeting instant, she’d forgotten all about her fear of heights, savoring the sensation of being safe in his arms.
Safe… it seemed like a foreign concept in connection with Colt. Especially since he’d roped her into a series of adventures way beyond her comfort zone. And each one only seemed to increase in risk and intensity.
In fact, merely thinking about the next activity made her palms sweat.
Popping open the secret drawer, Penny slid out her father’s envelope. Holding it gently in her fingertips, she whispered, “What should I do, Dad? I’m not brave enough for this.”
As the confession left her lips, a vision of Colt flashed into her mind—his eyes filled with warmth and kindness as he distracted her from the dizzying heights.
Suddenly, she realized the question for her father had nothing to do with the remaining adventures….
And everything to do with protecting her heart.