I said the words carefully, and studied her face as I said them.
"Goodness, that's a southern name." Her tone was earnest, but her eyes, they sparked with something I couldn't name. Relief, maybe?
"We are in the south."
Grace lifted her chin and stared up at the trees. "Don't I know it," she answered quietly.
We waited for her brother, and Grace wandered over to a towering pine tree. She leaned over and aimed her camera straight up the trunk, so close to the tree that it looked like her face must have been scratching the bark.
The sound of an engine broke the silence, and a massive grin split Grace's face when a black Subaru pulled into the parking lot, with a small U-Haul connected behind it.
As he parked, Grace bounced on the balls of her feet. When she tried to pull open his car door, he locked it with a grin.
"Asshole," she said on a laugh.
"Harpy," he said back, though his voice was muffled by the closed window.
When he exited the car, she launched herself at him for a hug, which he took with a wide smile.
"Gawd, you gained weight since you came here."
She slugged him in the stomach. "I've been here one day, moron. I can't believe I missed you."
Watching them, even though I was only separated by the bed of my truck and the space between our cars, felt like I was a million miles away. Most of the time, I didn't think much about being an only child, until I saw Grace and her twin brother greeting each other after only a few days apart.
"Hey," he said, finally noticing me. "I'm Grady Buchanan."
We clasped hands when I cleared the back of my truck. "Tucker Haywood. Welcome to Green Valley."
Grady lifted a clenched fist in the air and whooped loudly. "About damn time I've heard those words. Sayonara, Los Angeles, you piece of shit city."
Grace laughed, and I did as well.
"Grace," Grady said with a sly smile aimed at his sister, "I can't believe you made friends already. What's the matter with you?"
She flipped her middle finger at him while I laughed.
I lifted my hands. "Oh, don't worry. She hates me quite thoroughly, as a matter of fact. We just happened to get kicked out of the same meeting when you called her, and I love this hike, so I invited myself along, if that's all right with you."
"Hell yeah, that's all right. Let me change my shoes, grab my CamelBak, and I'll be ready to go."
He had an easy manner and quick smile, and I liked him immediately.
“How do you contribute to society, Tucker?” Grady asked.
“Lawyer.”
Grace lifted an eyebrow at me, like that explained everything.
“Excellent,” Grady said. “It’s always nice to be friends with someone who can help you if you get arrested.”
I leaned closer to Grace. "I take it he's the nice twin?"
Grace rolled her eyes, but she bit down on a smile. Someday, I thought, I'd get her to smile like that at me, just to know what it felt like.
Grady grinned as he yanked on some worn boots. "I like this one, Grace."
"Goody," she mumbled.
"You coming with us, Angry Girl?" I asked.
Grady hooted at the nickname, and this time, she didn't stop the smile. It did something strange to my chest. "And miss seeing you hike in your fancy dress pants? Dream on."
Her brother tossed me a bottle of water from a cooler he had in the back, then did the same to his sister.
She marched off toward the trailhead in her big black boots, flannel shirt whipping angrily where she had it tied around her waist, me and her brother in tow.
Chapter 33 Grace
It took about less than a mile before I realized exactly how much trouble I was in.
First, I was woefully out of shape, and most of the elevation gain on this particular trail was in the first portion of the seven-mile loop.
Second, my stupid brother had a giant man-crush on Tucker Haywood.
It started in the parking lot as I marched ahead of them, an innocent question about the USC T-shirt my brother was wearing.
I'd barely taken my first step on the trail, and their conversation went from recruiting scandals, Rose Bowls, BCS ranking system, and how the college playoff structure was inherently flawed.
Half a mile in was the realization that their lists of hobbies were identical.
That spurred on discussions of local hikes, favorite fishing spots, and oh joy, the male fascination with comparing finish times. I stopped to take a few pictures, and they chattered on ahead of me, thick as freaking thieves.
"No way. You did this in ninety minutes? Holy shit, man."
Tucker laughed easily, hopping over the trunk of a dead tree before he turned back and offered me his hand.
How the bleep was he hurdling over massive tree trunks in dress slacks?
"I've got it," I told him, bracing my palm on the scratchy bark and lifting my leg over carefully. For a moment, I sat on the tree and lifted my eyes to our surroundings.
There was something magical about being in a forest, something that always made me feel like I was intruding where I wasn’t supposed to be. The two men up in front of me, big and strong and tall as the trees around them, looked more at home than I felt.
I lifted my camera and snapped a few pictures of them as they walked ahead.
They kept talking, oblivious to my study.
"You could do it that fast too, if the trail is dry enough. That's the key with this one. If there's been any rain, you've got to go slower because the trail gets muddy as hell in some spots. A lot of people don't
