Stolen(99)

He’d never known two people more enthralled by botany.

Would his kids inherit their mother’s affinity to flowers?

His grip on the steering wheel tightened, and he reminded himself they weren’t a family—even if it felt that way sometimes. He was supposed to be giving Caity space, so he damn well better keep his mouth shut about their hypothetical offspring. Caity had given him no indication she was ready to revisit the subject of marital bliss. And the ball was still in her court.

“There!” The moms leaned into the front seat, pointing. “You’re going to miss the turnoff.”

Steering with one hand, he slowed up and checked the map. “No, this is the right way.”

“But we want to see the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge,” three voices clamored at once.

Women.

Still, it was early. There was plenty of time, and he was more than familiar with a woman’s prerogative. “I’ll turn around.”

Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the Rio Grande Gorge.

Everyone piled out of the rental car.

“Let’s walk the bridge,” Caity suggested.

“Mom’s afraid of heights,” he said, gazing up at one of the tallest bridges in North America. The last time he was at the Grand Canyon with Agatha, she’d puked over the South Rim, and when he’d taken Caity to Griffith Park Observatory, she’d had a panic attack climbing the stairs. The Rio Grande Gorge Bridge, with its narrow walkway and heavy traffic, was far more intimidating than either of those.

“I most certainly am not afraid,” his mother retorted.

But her face was flushed and apprehensive.

He glanced at the side of the road, lined with denizens selling jewelry and purses out of their cars. “Let’s think about this a minute. We can check out all this loot, and then, if everyone feels up to braving the bridge we’ll all go together. If not, I’ll stay behind and make like an ant along with anyone who might be having second thoughts.”

All three women shook their heads.

“Not one of you wants to shop for trinkets?”

“Don’t worry about me, Atticus.” His mother tiptoed up and gave him a peck on the cheek. “I’m going to walk the bridge. This is once in a lifetime, and I don’t want to miss it.”

“Me either.” Arlene hooked her arm through Agatha’s.

“If you’re sure.” He made eye contact with his mother, then Arlene, then Caity. “But we can turn around anytime you want. No shame in that.”

In truth, he was itching to get up on that skywalk. It just surprised him . . . in a good way.

Caity led the way at a brisk pace.

Today must be the day for setting aside fear.

Arm in arm, the moms soldiered on, but slowly. He turned to check on them. The wind blew their hair back, showing off their shining faces. They looked like happy campers to him, so he hurried to catch up with Caity.

Her complexion had paled and the skin encircling her lips was tinted blue.

He pulled her up short. “You sure you want to do this?”

Crowds and heights weren’t her thing, and it seemed like she might be doing all this for his sake. He loved the adrenaline rush of peering down over rocky cliffs and crashing waves and Caity knew it—she’d heard his Acapulco cliff dive story enough times.

“Never more sure of anything in my life.”

“Okay.” He couldn’t quite read her face. Either she was terrified or excited . . . or maybe both. “But I have a feeling there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“That’s because it’s a surprise.”

He glanced back over his shoulder. The moms weren’t far behind, and they had their heads together.

Coconspirators?

“We didn’t come to Taos for Luke’s gallery opening?”

“That’s not until tomorrow.”

“So why all the rushing around today?”

“Do I really have to define the word surprise for you, or will you, please, just shut up and trust me?”



This was one of those plans that seemed like a great idea on paper. But that was before Caitlin stepped onto the 565-foot-tall Rio Grande Gorge Bridge. As traffic whizzed by, the wind lashed against her skin like a cat o’ nine tails, and flapped her hair into her face, nearly blinding her. She pulled a scrunchie out of her pocket, secured her long tresses in a ponytail atop her head, and voila, the least of her problems was solved.

Her palms were damp, and her heart was keeping time to a punk rock drum beat.

Then Spense moved in close, shielding her from the punishing wind, and she remembered why she’d come up with such an extreme scheme.

She loved him.

Here was a man who’d saved her from a mountain lion, risked his career for her, and complimented her mother’s cooking. The same man who’d helped clear her father’s name, then adopted a star in his honor. Now, anytime she needed her father, all she had to do was look to the night sky.