Ride with Me

Grangeville, Idaho, to Dillon, Montana. 1,177 miles traveled.

For the next four days, she rode alone.

She’d looked for Tom in Lowell. She didn’t expect to find him there, but not finding him left her with a hollow feeling in her chest she couldn’t seem to do anything about. Her tent had looked forlorn and kind of silly all by itself on the small, parched campsite.

It wasn’t just the tent. She’d felt forlorn and kind of silly, too.

Paul hadn’t turned up in Lowell either, which was a relief. She was over the tent-jitters thing after a thousand miles’ acclimation, and she’d rather carry on alone than deal with Paul. She felt a little guilty for not sticking around until he showed up the next day, knowing how upset Tom would be to find out she was riding by herself after all, but she figured what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. What had become of Paul remained a mystery. Most likely, he’d decided to cut the day short after the trauma of climbing the pass. She told herself not to worry about him. He was a grown man. He could take care of himself. And so could she, for that matter.

Riding alone left her with entirely too much time to think about Tom—and about what he’d made her feel.

Excited. Attracted. And, worst of all, a sense of possibility—romantic possibility—she hadn’t felt in years.

Ever since Peter, she’d told herself she could never be satisfied settling down to married life in the suburbs. Whenever she tried to imagine it, she got this picture of herself in a kitchen in one of those aprons that tied around the waist. Which was absurd, because she didn’t even own an apron. But she taught English—the symbolism of the fictitious apron wasn’t lost on her. What would happen to her long weekend rides and her dreams of bike trips to Europe, Africa, and Asia if she got married? She wasn’t likely to meet someone to spend the rest of her life with who shared her passions for biking and travel. Here she was, nearly thirty, and the only guy she’d ever met who could keep up with her on a bike was her brother.

Well, and Tom. But he wasn’t exactly marriage material, was he? He wasn’t even boyfriend material. In her experience, relationships had a script: mutual attraction, a few dates, good or bad sex, deepening feelings, maybe love, definitely disappointment. The way she felt about Tom didn’t begin to fit. From the very beginning, he’d gotten under her skin in a way she couldn’t ignore. But it was all so backward. She’d been attracted to him before she liked him, and now that he’d abandoned her she couldn’t stop thinking about him. They’d never been on a date, but they’d eaten practically every meal together for weeks. Now she’d never see him again, and she was utterly infatuated with him.

He was all wrong for her. Even if she’d been in the market for a relationship, she’d have known better than to choose Tom. The guy had “emotionally unavailable” written all over him. Plus, he wasn’t exactly a prize catch. He’d more or less admitted he wanted nothing to do with the rest of the human race. Lexie wasn’t the type of person who would do well in isolation, even with a really hot hermit who could kiss like Tom.

But that kiss … She couldn’t seem to bring herself to regret it. Not when it had felt so singularly right. Nob

ody had ever kissed her like Tom did, with a toe-curling heat that made her feel as though he could see inside of her. Something connected the two of them, something bigger than sex. And now he was gone, and she missed him.

She didn’t like it. She hadn’t signed up for any of this. But there it was.

It nagged at her that she hadn’t told him the truth when she had the chance. It had seemed such a small thing at first to fib about being married, but over the three weeks they’d ridden together the lie had taken on a life of its own. It had become the shield she used to keep herself from acting on her attraction to him. And then she’d dropped the shield without a second thought, only she hadn’t bothered to mention it to Tom. She hadn’t considered what her reckless actions would mean to him until it was too late. What they’d done together up against the back of the bike shop had made him feel dishonorable, and whatever flaws Tom had, he was an honorable guy. She got the sense that honor was one of the few things he had left in his life.

She couldn’t think about it without feeling weepy, so she tried not to think about it.

For a sixty-mile stretch in eastern Idaho, there were no services whatsoever, and she had to carry extra food and water. She treated herself to a cabin and a soak at Lolo Hot Springs and turned in early. The next morning, she crossed into Montana alone.

She tried to keep her mind off Tom, but it had a way of wandering back in his direction whenever she let her guard down. She wondered how far ahead he was, how many miles he was putting in each day. She wondered if he’d stopped in Missoula to have his picture taken at the Adventure Cycling headquarters. Probably not. He wouldn’t have wanted to have to talk to anyone.

She wondered if he’d talked to anyone at all.

She met Lance in Hamilton, a little town three streets wide and six streets long that had a surprisingly excellent bike shop and a very comfortable, shady park. She’d just finished an energy bar and was lying on her back in the grass, watching the biggest clouds she’d ever seen scoot across a limitless expanse of Montana sky, when a pair of bike shoes appeared in her peripheral vision and somebody sat down next to her.

“TransAm?” he guessed.

“Yep.” She didn’t really have the energy to be vivacious since Tom had left. It was as if he’d infected her with his disdain for polite conversation.

“East to west or—”

“West to east.”

“Me too. You riding alone?”

She would have liked to say no, but the lie would be pretty obvious. Plus, she had become painfully aware that honesty was the best policy.

“Yeah.”

“Where you headed tonight?”

“Over Chief Joseph Pass to May Creek.”

He whistled. “You don’t mess around.” A hand appeared, hovering a foot or so above her nose. She wasn’t sure if she was meant to shake it or what, so she just ducked, rolled to one side, and sat up.

“I’m Lance,” the guy said with an engaging grin.