Chapter 16 Colton

CHAPTER 16

Colton

I OFFER RILEY a metal fork. She accepts it with a small smile that makes my heart thump. I use the spatula to cut the brook trout she caught in half. The fish has a perfect golden crust and the meat inside appears flaky and moist.

I slide each piece onto a tin plate and hold them out to Riley to choose from. "Heads or tails?" I ask.

"Is this a test?" Riley asks, her dark eyes narrowed with playful suspicion.

"It's a question of preference. Or probability. Do you want heads?" I lift up the plate with the front part of the fish. "Or tails?" I hold up the other plate.

Riley grabs the second plate and sets it in her lap. "Before you even start, I didn't not pick the one with the head because I think it's gross. It's just that everyone knows tail meat tastesbetter."

"Right." I glance down at the beady little fish eyes on my plate and then back at her. She gives me a mischievous grin.

Riley loads her fork and takes a bite. "Oh," she says over her first mouthful, her expression going serious. "Wow."

"Is it that bad?" I stab at my portion, checking to make sure it's cooked through. It looks edible enough.

Maybe I didn't season it correctly?

I know I added black pepper, salt, and cayenne to the flour and cornmeal. I didn't have any lemons, so I used a splash of lemonade instead. Maybe that was a mistake? I'm not much of a cook.

"This is actually really good." She takes another bite. "It might be the best thing I've tasted since we left SoCal."

A feeling of pride washes over me. "Thanks," I say, enjoying the feeling of Riley's approval. It matters more to me than I realized.

Famished, I dig in. Riley wasn't kidding. The brook trout is flaky and sweet. "I'm not used to cooking for other people," I admit. "When I cook for myself out here, it's usually something simple and mostly for fuel, not flavor."

Riley shrugs. "Things don't have to be complicated to be good."

She has a point.

As we pick the bones clean and toss them into the crackling fire, I consider how different she is from my first impression of her. I'm curious now about her lost luggage, what other sketches she's made in her notebook, and why there's such a massive chip on her shoulder. Should I apologize? Ask for a fresh start? It might be nice to have a do-over and really get to know Riley.

I'm so lost in my thoughts, I don't notice Dad approaching us until he's right next to the fire. "Colt, Riley, good to have you back at camp. Sounds like you had a bit of an adventure?"

Riley nods.

"Nothing we couldn't handle," I say, casting an appreciative glance in Riley's direction.

"Good to hear." Dad hands us each a bottle of Felix's signature lemonade, which is sweeter than the original pioneer recipe that was guaranteed to pucker your lips. "We'll be heading up to Bear Claw Rock tomorrow. The trail's a bit rough in spots from the recent rains but the view can't be beat. I've got an early start, so it's time for me to hit the sack. I'll see you two in the mornin'," he says, tipping his hat.

"Good night, Captain Walker," Riley says.

"Night, Dad," I say.

Dad disappears into the shadows and it's just the two of us again. The only sounds that break up the silence are the crackling fire and our forks scraping against our plates. We sip lemonade and stare at the flickering flames. The brook trout was good, but it wasn't all that filling, and soon my stomach is rumbling again. "Are you still hungry?" I ask.

Riley looks down at her empty plate. "I could eat a bit more."

I glance at my watch. It's just past ten and it'll take at least forty-five minutes to cook what I have in mind. The sensible thing would be to grab a quick snack and call it a night so we're rested up for tomorrow. Riley looks over at me with wide, dark eyes and whatever sensibility I might have had blows away on the evening wind. I'm not ready to say good night to her just yet. "Hold tight. I'll be right back."

As much as I want to clear the air between us, I'm not sure bringing up the whole Prairie Princess comment right now is the best idea…not when there's a tenuous truce in place. Mom always says good food can fix a lot of things, and I'm hoping her theory holds true. It works on me and Dad, but usually that's because we're hangry and out of sorts. Not because of snap judgments and ill-timed comments. I'm hoping some dessert will help smooth things over.

Thankfully, Wild Wanda keeps all the rations organized, so it's easy enough for me to find everything I need to whip up peach cobbler. Once I've added the ingredients to a shallow cast-iron Dutch oven, I grab a lid lifter and some spoons before securing the supply wagon to keep any scavenging animals out.

For a moment, I worry that Riley will be gone when I get back. But she's right where I left her, warming her hands by the fire. Her hair has dried in soft waves that flutter in the breeze and reflect the orange glow of the campfire. She glances up at me as I approach. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Hold these?" I hand over the spoons and lid lifter.

Riley's fingers brush over mine and we both draw back slowly, like we're surrounded by molasses. The echo of her touch seeps into my skin.

She's just a pretty face from California.

But deep down, I know that's not true. Riley's more than a Prairie Princess. Or a sad sparrow. Or a pretty face. She's smart and stubborn, tough and observant, quick with a comeback and slow to open up. The more I spend time with her, the more I realize she's definitely the good kind of complicated. The kind of complicated I could want in my life.

I poke at the coals and grimace.

Even if I hadn't blown my chance with her already, it would never work out between us. California and Nebraska are worlds apart and this expedition has an expiration date. Already, it feels as if a few more days out on the prairie with her is simultaneously too many and not nearly enough. Falling for Riley would be a huge mistake.

Too bad it's already too late.