37

Keystone Species

The sunset sky was all yellow and orange, clouds catching the colors and stretching them out across the sky. The roof of the truck radiated heat through the seat of Jack’s jeans, but perched atop the cab, Jack and Mari could see for miles. He propped his boots on the windshield and tightened his arm around Mari’s waist so she’d lean back even more fully against him.

They’d gone back to their spot, way out in the desert. This time, she’d been very much in the mood to make all his blow job fantasies come true, but he’d made her stop before he finished because he couldn’t stand waiting one more day before making love to her again. Judging by the sounds she made, he hadn’t done a half-bad job of it, either.

He was feeling pretty fucking smug.

They’d gotten dressed again to climb up to the top of the truck and watch the sunset, but he barely saw the colorful sky streaking out all around them.

“It’s sad, you know,” he said.

She frowned, tilting her head back to look at him. “What?”

“That you tracked me down before I could track you down. I’m supposed to be the tracker.” He squeezed her a little. He couldn’t seem to get enough of hugging her, holding her, since he got back.

“Well, I’m a determined woman.”

“Damn right you are. Every man in our company had been wishing Rod would get knocked off his pedestal for years, but all of us put together couldn’t make it happen. I was only gone a couple of weeks and you had it checked off the list just like that.”

Mari smiled, but her expression looked a little distracted as she stared out over the desert.

“What?” He nudged his knee against her thigh.

“You know why we go to so much trouble to save tortoises?”

“Because there ain’t that many of them left?”

The little buggers were cute as hell, but he was pretty sure nobody was funding biological monitors just for cute.

“No. There are plenty of at-risk species that don’t get much help,” she said. “Tortoises are sort of a keystone species because they dig burrows, which are used by snakes and owls and all these other species. They spread the seeds of native grasses and plants around so the vegetation thrives wherever there are tortoises. You hardly ever spot a tortoise anymore, but where they’re around, the whole desert looks different. I was just thinking it’s funny, how one little thing can change so many things.”

She paused for a long moment, her fingers toying absently with a fold in his jeans.

“Just like me. I was different when I was with Brad than when I was with you. Now, I have my own money, a job I’m proud of, and I do it well.”

“Had that before you met me.”

“I did,” she said. “But now I also have friends. I dress different, eat different, jeez, I noticed the other day I even walk differently. I laugh, just, all the time now.” She turned a bit to look up at him. “It’s not like you did any of those things for me, told me how to dress or introduced me to my friends. But you change one little thing, and so many ripple effects come of it that you never could have expected. You didn’t give me my new life, but you gave me hope.”

He had no idea how to answer a declaration like that, one that made his chest fill and fill until it felt as big as if he’d breathed in the whole damn sky. Like he might bust with all the happy locked up inside him. Instead, he just kissed her cheek, and she looked over at him and smiled.

“Maybe hope is a keystone species.”