Chapter 11 Riley

CHAPTER 11

Riley

NIGHTTIME ON THE prairie is filled with the quiet din of insects and the breeze whispering through the grass. Back in California, it was never this quiet. Not with all the freeways constantly packed with cars and the skies full of aircraft. Plus, it hardly ever got this dark unless we were experiencing rolling blackouts, common during the hottest part of the year. Even then, it always seemed like there was a glow coming from somewhere that kept the sky from going truly black.

But out here, the sky is as dark as India ink and splattered with more stars than I could ever imagine. Even the light from the dying campfire, which sends dancing shadows over the tent walls, can't dampen the starlight. I take it all in—the cool night air sinking into my pores, the soft chirp of the crickets, the scent of burned wood, the winking constellations—and allow myself a minute of stolen magic. No one needs to know that I don't completely hate it.

I'm exhausted but I don't think sleep's in the cards for me tonight. It never is when I have to spend the night in a strange place and in a strange bed. It doesn't even have to be strange, either. It just has to be not-my-room and not-my-bed for insomnia to plague me.

11:45 p.m. Someone in the wagon behind us is snoring.

12:28 a.m. The crickets are really chirping now.

12:31 a.m. How many crickets live in the Great Plains?

12:37 a.m. It sounds like millions, and they're all saying "Go to sleep, go to sleep." I can't believe I'm being taunted by insects with wing fiddles.

12:39 a.m. How many different insect species live in the Great Plains?

I glance at my watch again. 12:48 a.m. Great.

"Riles, wake up," Caleb whispers, shaking my arm with almost enough exuberance to tear it from its socket.

Groggy, I force my eyes open. I can't believe I actually fell asleep. Or that Caleb had the audacity to wake me up. "What time is it?" I mumble, hating that it's morning already.

"Dunno," he whispers. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" I ask, glancing at my watch to find that it's only 4:47 a.m. Ugh.

We're both quiet for a moment, but all I hear is the never-ending cricket symphony and our shallow breaths.

My eyes flutter closed and I'm just about asleep again when Caleb tugs on my arm. "That. Did you hear that ?"

"No, I didn't." I toss his hand off. "Go back to sleep."

"There it is again," he hisses.

I'm just about to roll over and pull the edge of the sleeping bag over my head when I hear it too: a soft sniffing, snorting sound. It almost sounds like a quiet pig.

Are there prairie pigs in the Midwest? I suppose they'd be feral hogs, which have a reputation for being really mean. There are a few feral hog populations in Southern California that have been known to terrorize residents. I know I wouldn't want to meet one in a back alley at midnight, let alone on the Great Plains at not-quite 5:00 a.m.

"I think it's a bear," Caleb hisses.

"It's not a bear."

"How do you know?"

"It doesn't sound big enough to be a bear."

"Maybe it's a little bear."

"It's not a bear," I repeat.

"What are we supposed to do?" he asks, his voice warbling with panic.

As far as I know, we don't have any food in the tent, so I doubt we're in any real danger. Still…my brain can't process complex thoughts in its half-slumbering state. "Go back to sleep," I mumble, hoping I can cling to the threads of sleep I had managed to snag earlier.

Caleb's quiet. Maybe he's taken my advice?

"Riles."

Maybe not.

"What?" I hiss.

"I heard it again."

Oh. My. God. I am not doing this until sunup. I grab my palm-sized flashlight, slide my legs over the side of the cot, and slip my feet into the cheap plastic flip-flops I picked up at Ranch & Rustler.

"What are you doing?" he asks, his eyes widening when I flick on the flashlight to test the beam.

"I'm going to check it out. Coming?"

Caleb snorts. "Nope."

"Fine. Whatever." I slide between the front flaps of the tent and point the light toward the side where the mysterious sounds are coming from.

Six beady little eyes stare back at me.

Raccoons.

A mama and two kits, based on the size difference. Frozen in the light like masked bandits, they look almost guilty for waking me up. They should be, given how long it took for me to fall asleep in the first place.

Well, now that I know there's no danger—

"What are you doing?"

The familiar voice startles me in the dark. I give a small yelp, whirling around to find Colton standing there, dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans. He's not wearing his Stetson, and his medium-cropped dark hair is tousled like he just woke up. My flashlight hits him square in the face, and he winces, holding up an arm to shield his eyes. "Hey."

"Oh, sorry." I point the flashlight down toward the ground and look up to find the faint moonlight casting shadows on his stern scowl.

In the almost-dark, I'm keenly aware of my "This princess needs her beauty sleep" pajamas, which were cute in the store, before he'd dubbed me the Prairie Princess. Now it's basically a gotcha. And judging by the smirk that tugs at the corner of his mouth, he doesn't get that it's supposed to be ironic.

"Moonlight pajama stroll?" he asks, his voice gruff and low.

Does he actually think I would just get up and decide to wander off in the middle of the night wearing this? My fingers tighten around the flashlight.

"Caleb heard a noise and I came out to check. Turns out, it was raccoons." I slide the beam back to the little family, who are watching us warily. I'm kind of surprised they didn't try to sneak away while we were distracted, but honestly, I can't blame them for wanting front-row seats. Tall, Dark, and Irksome vs. the Prairie Princess. One night only. Get your tickets here.

"Do you have a weapon on you?" he whispers.

"A weapon? Like a stick or…?" I whisper back, slightly confused. What do I need a weapon for? I'm pretty sure the Great Plains is not a hotbed of dangerous activity, or Mom and Dad would never have forced us here. "I'm not packing heat, if that's what you're asking."

"Who says that?"

"Says what?"

"?‘Packing heat.'?"

"People say it," I counter, irritation oozing over me. "I just said it and I'm people. A person."

Colton just stares at me for a moment before giving a small grunt. "What were you planning on using to defend yourself on your moonlight pajama stroll?"

"Against some cute little raccoons?" I ask, trying to keep my voice down. "Please, they're harmless. And this is not a moonlight pajama stroll. Yes, there is moonlight. Yes, I am wearing pajamas. But it's more of a scouting mission than a stroll."

He crosses his arms over his chest. "But you didn't know it was only raccoons until you went outside. It could have been a cougar or a badger."

"Fair point, but still…if the animal was dangerous, would it matter whether I was in the tent if the animal wanted to eat me?"

"Suppose not," he concedes.

Aha, I got him there.

"And now that I know that it was just a few harmless raccoons, I'm going back to bed." I turn around and take a few steps toward the tent, but my timing couldn't have been worse. The raccoon family has gotten considerably closer to the front of our tent, and Mama Raccoon isn't happy about how near I've come to her babies. When the light reaches her eyes, she launches herself toward me, snapping her jaw at my ankles.

I leap back with a squeal and plaster myself against Colton, almost knocking him over in the process. His arms wrap around my waist while my arms windmill for balance. He takes a huge step back to absorb the shock, preventing us from going down into the dirt.

Mama Raccoon moves to her kits' side and bares her teeth, letting out a ferocious growl that sends goose bumps over my skin. Colton lifts me with the ease of someone used to doing some heavy lifting and walks us back a few steps until we're out of the immediate danger zone. The raccoons see their opening and dart around us into the darkness of the prairie. My racing heart threatens to break free from my chest and follow them.

Sucking in a shaky breath, I turn to face Colton. The moonlight accentuates his jawline and the soft curve of his lips. I'm drawn into his warmth, glad to have something sturdy to hold on to while I regroup. His muscles flex when I press my fingers into his upper arms, and my pulse shoots up again.

Colton tilts his head to the side, dipping his face down until we're eye to eye. I catch the scent of minty toothpaste and polished leather. He blinks at me and a bit of the perpetual steeliness subsides. I'm reminded of how attractive he was when I first saw him, before his haughty attitude got in the way. Standing this close to someone so good-looking is dangerous.

Maybe it's the cricket orchestra or the silvery moonlight or the lack of sleep, but I tip my head up as if there's a remote possibility that the world has flipped on its axis and there's a chance that we might kiss. My gaze slides down to his mouth, where the sharp slant of his lips has relaxed into something much more tempting. If he wasn't so disagreeable…

For a moment, I think maybe there is some actual magic in the air. The edges of his mouth curl up as his lips part. But then Colton takes a step back, slowly releasing his hold on me. My waist tingles where his fingers slide across the hem of my pajama top and I shiver at the sudden rush of cold air over my skin.

"You okay?" he asks, voice rough and clipped.

Obviously not.

Clearly, I'm not thinking straight. Given his attitude toward me, I have a better chance of being mauled to death by a raccoon than being kissed by a grumpy trail guide. Not that I want to be kissed by a grumpy trail guide.

Much.

"I'm fine," I say, doing my best to project a cool, in-control vibe, when really, I'm a complete mess inside. What the hell is wrong with me that I'd entertain romantic thoughts about Tall, Dark, and Irksome?

He nods, running his eyes over me one more time as if to verify that I am undamaged. When his gaze goes to the saying on my pajama top, he quickly looks away. "Well, then…Riley," he says, stepping back into the shadows. "Enjoy the rest of your night."

I don't want to like the way he says "Riley" in a deep, rumbly almost-whisper, but I do. Too much for my own good. I cannot believe I actually have a thing for Colton.