“Darlin’， let me ask you something,” he said, changing the subject and derailing her “could have” parade. “What was your favorite thing about the town that fancy beach cottage was in?”
“The hardware stores and lumber yard were both ten minutes from the house. That was convenient,” she mused.
“Okay,” he said, drawing out the word. “What was your favorite not-work-related thing?”
“There was a great Mexican place a couple of blocks over that had killer queso.”
“What about the beach? How was the ocean temp? Was it a good spot for swimming?”
“I didn’t really make it down to the beach for anything other than filming. And I know exactly what you’re doing, Silas Wright.”
He followed the signs and took a left onto a road that cut through thick forest. “I’m taking my girl away for the day,” he said, feigning innocence.
“You’re trying to make some point about showing me all that Idaho has to offer so I get attached. But I already know. Potatoes. Finger steaks. Bleed Blue. Yay, Idaho.”
“I’m planning on you getting more attached to me than the state,” he told her, easing the truck to a stop on the berm. “What are you going to do when Cody brings home a B on that essay? Are you going to celebrate the hard work that went into that win or are you going to tell him to forget about it and focus on freaking out over the next grade?”
“Of course we’ll celebrate,” Maggie said, exasperated. “He’s working his butt off to get that diploma.”
“You’ve been working your very fine butt off, too. And I haven’t seen you bother to celebrate any of your wins. Seems to me like you’re too busy trying to get to your next one.”
“I celebrate my wins,” she argued.
“What did you do when you hit one million subscribers?”
“I had sex with you.”
He leaned over and released her seat belt. “You were going to do that regardless of your subscriber count. Now, get your ass out so we can start celebrating.”
“We’re on the side of the road. Where are we celebrating? In traffic?”
“You’re cute when you’re crabby.” They got out of the truck and Silas handed her a small backpack before shouldering into the heavier one.
“I’m not crabby. I’m behind schedule,” she huffed.
He took her hand in his and drew her into the woods.
“You’re taking me out here to murder and dismember me, aren’t you?” she said, ducking under a low-hanging branch, pine needles brushing her hair.
“This is the Sawtooth National Forest,” he lectured as they followed the trail deeper into the scrubby pines. “Watch your step. It gets a little rocky up ahead.”
She went quiet, and he let her. There was an anesthetizing peace about being out here, away from modern necessities. It made him focus on his breath. On the earth under his boots. The sounds of forest and river. Birds and squirrels. The patches of sun that filtered down from the canopy above them.
He nudged her ahead of him on the trail when it shrank and waited for it.
“Whoa.” Maggie came to an abrupt stop in front of him.
“A punch in the gut, right?” he asked, resting his hands on her shoulders.
“Sucker punched by Mother Nature,” she whispered.
The forest opened up, framing an expansive view of rugged mountain peaks of gray and purple and the glimmer of lake water at the base.
“See over there?” he said, pointing over her shoulder at a smaller pool above the lake.
“Yeah.”
“Hot springs. There’s more of them about half a mile or so to the west. But there’s parking and easy trails. These are a better-kept secret.”
“How far are we?” she asked.
“About a mile. You up for it?”
“Hell yeah, I am,” she said with just a hint of surprise in her tone.
“That’s my girl.”
They picked their way over downed logs and loose gravel, passing in and out of forest as the trail looped around. By the time they got up to the rocky shore of the blue-green alpine waters, they both had a good sweat going. The lake was small by Idaho’s standards, and this one was impossible to get to by car. Which meant they had it to themselves on a late Wednesday morning.
Maggie leaned down and dipped her hand into the water. “Oh my God. It’s freezing.”
“The lake gets a lot of the melt-off, but the springs up there are bath temperature. I didn’t bring Kevin because that tub of lard loves the water, and I didn’t want the distraction. If you get what I’m saying.”