Amy
It’s a beautiful summer day, even for a Monday. The twins and I take our time eating breakfast, getting dressed for the day, and making our way out for a walk. The boys jibber-jabber animatedly as I push their stroller along the trail. I worried the gravel might be too large for the stroller, but it’s not bad. The rocks remind me of the cinder track I ran sprints on in high school.
At first, I’m surprised by the number of bikes on the Mickelson Trail on a weekday morning, then I remember Deadwood is a tourist town. I love that this little burg offers history and touristy stuff, along with nature to enjoy.
“Left!” a couple announce before whizzing by us on mountain bikes.
“Bikes!” the twins yell for the fifth time.
This might be a short walk if they yell that every time a bike passes us in either direction. I decide to distract them.
“I spy with my little eyes something green,” I state, hoping they’ll play along with me.
“Grass!” Harry guesses.
“Nooo,” I answer.
“Leaves!” they yell in unison, as they so often do.
“Yes.”
“My turn,” Harry states.
“No, my turn,” William argues.
Their voices rise as they speak words I can’t make out. They’re so loud, they don’t hear another biker announce “left” before passing us. Yelling ceases as crying begins.
I set the brake on the back wheel before approaching the front of the stroller, bending down to their eye level.
“What happened?” I ask, looking at each boy.
They speak over the top of each other. William bawls and Harry yells louder to be heard over his brother.
“Left!” a male rider announces, slowing to pass us.
I spare him a glance, embarrassed by the twins' behavior in such a serene environment.
“Boys,” I raise my voice a bit, firming my tone. “Quiet please.”
Harry ceases his explanation, while it takes a bit for William to calm his tears.
“Amy, is everything okay?”
My back stiffens at his word, and my skin prickles in his presence. When I look over my shoulder, I must do a double take.
It’s Lucas standing still, straddling his bike. Only he’s changed since I last saw him. Gone is his medium-length, light-brown hair I yearned to run my fingers through. Now he sports a buzz cut in a deeper shade of brown.
Holy fuck!
How’s it possible he became hotter over the weekend?
My pulse quickens, and my cheeks heat.
I’m having thoughts about Lucas; thoughts that mean nothing but trouble for me.
“Amy?” he repeats.
I try to hide the effect he has on me. I pray he doesn’t see.
“Just brotherly love,” I inform him. “One moment they’re the best of friends and the next they’re at war.”
“Hi Lucas,” Harry waves as if nothing happened.
“Hey boys,” he smiles.
I melt at the magnitude of the crinkles at the corner of his blue eyes and the deep parenthesis at the sides of his mouth in the sunlight.
It’s really not fair.
Women don’t stand a chance in his alluring presence.
“I thought you headed out yesterday,” I blurt awkwardly, needing something to say.
“They left without me,” he chuckles.
“What? Why?”
“It’s not like that,” he explains, his hands up, palms facing me. “I put in my two-weeks' notice, stating this was my last rodeo.”
“So it was planned?” I rise, standing beside the stroller.
“Yeah, I’m ready to plant myself somewhere,” he states. “I need a home base.”
“Huh.” I’m blown away. I search my memory to see if he hinted at any of this.
Long silence stretches out between us.
“What prompted the new do?” I ask, motioning to his hair. “Are you trading rodeos for modeling?”
I swear his cheeks pink as he runs his palm over the soft stubble atop his head.
“Just trying something new. It’ll grow back,” he says with a shrug. “You think I look like a model?”
Crap! I insinuated that.
“C’mon, you know by the way women look at you that you are good looking.”
“But you think I’m model worthy,” he surmises from my previous comment.
“Mah,” I feign disinterest.
He smirks, not buying me backpedaling for one second.
“So you ride more than just horses,” I state, needing to change the subject and pointing at his bike. “I gotta say, I never imagined this side of you.” I swirl my finger around his new look.
“There’s more to me than rodeo, just like I’m sure there’s more to you than a nanny.”
Touché.
“I’ll be staying with Oliver for the unforeseeable future, so we’ll have a chance to get to know each other better,” he states.
I quirk my head.
Is he angling to see more of me?
“Maybe we could ride bikes sometime,” he suggests.
“I didn’t bring my bike,” I state, glad I have a legitimate excuse.
“I figured as much.” He pauses as a large group of cyclists passes by. “There’s a great rental place in town.”
Man, he will not quit.
“We’ll see.” I shrug noncommittally.
His smirk tells me all I need to know. He’s going to make sure we meet up again.
“Well, I need to get back to my ride,” he says, maneuvering his bike away from us.
“Have fun. Boys say goodbye to Lucas,” I encourage.
“Bye Lucas,” they say.
“Bye Harry. Bye William.” Lucas waves. “Bye Amy.”
“Bye Lucas,” I giggle with a little wave.
I watch Lucas pedal away, his calves popping with the motion, as I unlock the brakes, taking hold of the stroller handle.
I laugh as I shake my head. We’ve walked less than a quarter of a mile, yet so much happened.
The short walk home does nothing to erase my steamy thoughts of Lucas. I’m like Fergie in her song London Bridge.
Every time he comes around, my walls come tumbling down.
* * *
I knock on Mia’s office door.
“Come in,” she calls.
Not wanting to interrupt her writing momentum, hesitantly, I peek my head in.
“Can you take a break for a minute?” I ask.
Worry floods her face.
“It’s screen time for the boys and I need to tell you what I saw on the trail,” I explain quickly, needing to put her worries to rest.
“Let me pee and we’ll meet in the kitchen,” Mia offers.
I wait on pins and needles with two water bottles on the counter beside me. In this tiny house with its old doors, I can hear Mia pee and wash her hands. When she doesn’t immediately emerge, I can’t take it anymore.
“We bumped into Lucas on the trail,” I blurt.
This prompts her to emerge. Her wide eyes and shocked face convey exactly how I feel.
“Yep. Dude had a head to toe makeover from dreamy cowboy with gotta-touch me hair to buzz cut, hot-as-hell, hunky jock. He’s staying in Deadwood with our boy Oliver for, and I quote, the unforeseeable future. He claims I don’t know the real him and he doesn’t know the real me. Oh, and he plans on renting me a bike, so we can ride the trail together and get to know each other,” I ramble, experiencing diarrhea of the mouth.
Mia looks from me to the water bottle on the counter and back.
“I think we need something stronger than water to unpack this,” she states, moving towards the short cabinet over the refrigerator. “I’ll get the Jack Daniels; you get the cola. The boys are glued to the iPads. We’ll sit and attempt to process everything.”