Beautiful Sacrifice

“No, but you don’t look like the kind of guy who makes friends with girls either, and it feels like I’ve got the job.”

He pulled me along, looking both ways before crossing the street. “What can I say? You’re the opposite of my better half.”

“So, I’m so horrible that I make you feel like a better person?” I asked, standing next to the passenger-side door.

He pointed at me. “Exactly.”

He reached for the door handle, but I smacked his hand away.

“Don’t worry, Ivy League. I wouldn’t open your door for you even if I liked you,” he said. “You’re driving. I don’t know where to go, and I damn sure don’t want you barking directions at me.”

“You want me to drive your truck?” I asked, feeling a bit nervous. I hadn’t driven anything in years.

The doors clicked, and Taylor handed me a set of keys—some shiny, some not so shiny. Walking around the front end and then climbing into the driver’s seat, I tried not to show fear, but mostly, I didn’t want to feel it. I closed the door and pulled on my seat belt, horrified that my hands were trembling.

“Do you even have a license?” he asked.

“Yes. I know how to drive. It’s just … been a while.” I sniffed and felt even sicker. “You spent the morning cleaning your truck, didn’t you?”

“Smells like new, doesn’t she?”

“Isn’t it new?”

“She. She is not new, no. I bought her last year.” He took the keys from my hand and chose the largest one to stab into the ignition.

“Jesus,” I whispered. “I really don’t think I should drive … her.”

“You’ll be fine.”

Instantly, the radio blared screamy hard rock.

He twisted the volume. “Sorry.”

“No country?” I asked, resting my hands on the wheel at ten and two.

He laughed once. “Country’s for dancing and crying. AC/DC is for cleaning your truck.”

I made a face. “But … it’s old.”

“The classics never get old. Let’s go.”

I pulled down the gearshift and turned around, slowly backing out of the parking space. A car appeared and honked, and I slammed on the brakes.

Taylor looked at me, his eyebrows shooting up almost to his hairline.

“I desperately want to keep up my cast-iron bitch persona, but I don’t think I can do this,” I said.

“How long did you say it’s been?”

“Five years.”

“Why?”

“No car.”

“Ever? Or did you wreck yours?”

I stared at him, unable to answer.

He unfastened his seat belt. “You’d better just tell me where I’m going. I’ll learn to live with directions from a girl. We can reintroduce you to the road another day.”

“Directions from a girl? Shall I assume you’d even ask for them? Or is that too far from the ancient stereotype?”

He stared at me with dead eyes. “Ivy League, stop talking to me like you’re writing a fucking paper.”

“Let’s just do this,” I said, climbing over the console.

After jogging around to the driver’s side, he climbed up and settled in. “I feel better about this,” he said, nodding.

I agreed, “Me, too.”

“Where are we going first?”

“Um … Garden of the Gods. Just over ten minutes away and free parking.”

“Not Pikes Peak? You haven’t hiked it, have you?” His tone was accusatory. “I’ve heard the locals don’t.”

“I have actually,” I snapped. “A couple of times. But you can see Pikes from the Garden of the Gods. Trust me. It’s really a special place.”

“Okay. Where am I going?”

“Take Tejon south to Uintah. Go until you get to thirtieth, and then take West Colorado onto Ridge Road. Just follow the signs.”

“You got it,” he said, backing out. He slammed on the brakes when another car laid on its horn. “See? It wasn’t just you.”

I laughed and shook my head as he inched out onto Tejon Street.

The familiar view outside my window hadn’t changed much since I was a girl. Colorado was its own Eden, its residents holding tight to preserving the state’s natural beauty. The Garden of the Gods was the earth turned on its edge. The views were particularly gasp-worthy. As a child, it had been my favorite local place to visit—not only to see it for myself, but also to watch as others experienced it for the first time.

Taylor was no exception. As we parked, he couldn’t stop staring. He said little as we hiked along the formations, breathing in the fresh air and open space. The sky was still a bit hazy from the outlying fires, but it didn’t seem to faze him.

An hour after we’d arrived, Taylor sat on a boulder to rest. “This is incredible. I’m pissed I’ve been here for as long as I have and haven’t come here before. I’ve gotta show the guys.”

I smiled, satisfied with his reaction. “Everyone should see this place. I don’t know. There’s just something about it.”

“I walk a lot of miles when I’m on the job, and I’m fucking tired. What’s up with that?”

I looked up, squinting from the sun overhead. Beads of sweat had just begun to fall from the nape of my neck down to the top seam of my tank top. “I don’t think you’re tired. I think you’re relaxed.”

“Maybe so. All I wanna do is take a nap.”

“That’s because you were up all night, doing my laundry.”

“Not all night. I slept. You drool by the way.”

“Oh, that’s why you didn’t make the moves on me. I thought maybe I snored.”

“No. You might actually be the cutest sleeper ever.”

I made a face. “Like you’ve spent a whole night with someone before.”

He thought about it. “True.”

“So, tell me something I don’t know about you,” I said, trying not to sound too eager. This was the precarious part. It was the make-or-break moment where I would get information I needed without seeming like I was getting information.

His brows pulled together. “Like what?”

I crossed my arms and shrugged.