Page 15 of Cheyenne

Their conversation stayed light as they drove, but when they reached town, Micah slowed the truck and glanced at her. “So, where are we going?”

Cheyenne hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “There’s a church I wanted to see. It’s the one my brother Chance used to visit here in Wilmington. If you go about a mile down this road, it’s on the left.”

She was tracking it on her phone, clutching her father’s journal in her lap. She didn’t know exactly what she was hoping to find at the church, but something told her they might have missed an important piece of the puzzle.

When they reached the church, Micah pulled the truck into the parking lot and cut the engine. He turned to her. “All right, what now?”

Cheyenne exhaled, reluctant to share too much. “You probably know about all the symbols tied to the gold.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “The palm tree on the first gold piece Trey’s parents left behind; the broken arrow that’s all over your ranch; the skulls; and, of course, the painting of the ship we got from Kentucky. Your family didn’t seem to mind us keeping that back at the inn.”

Cheyenne snapped her fingers. “Right—the painting. That was part of the mess with Ed Peters and Eden’s art gallery. I almost forgot your family ended up with it.”

Micah smirked. “Yeah, because your family didn’t bother telling us you were going into Kentucky. My uncles might forgive your family, but they don’t trust you.”

She pointed at him with a grin. “Hence why you’re here.”

“Fair point.” He nodded toward the church. “So you’re checking out symbols in the church, but you’re not looking for gold, right?”

She shrugged. “You already promised that whatever happens stays between us.”

“But you’re not looking for gold, right?” he insisted.

She worried she needed to send him away. “Uh, sure. How about you just go and I’ll take an Uber back?”

He just stared at her.

“You promised whatever happens stays between us.”

He threw up a hand. “Right, like if you kissed me or something, that would stay between us, but … what are we doing here?”

“Kiss you?” she sputtered.

Micah smirked. “Is that so out of grasp?”

Cheyenne got out of the truck, marching toward the church.

He followed. “Wait a second.”

She spun on him. “Go back to South Port. Call your family, report on what you have to, and check in on me another time.”

“No way.”

She scowled. “I need to do this.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s my turn.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

Cheyenne bit her lip. It was time to trust him—at least partially. “Listen, my brothers leave me out of most things, which is fine. But my father passed away when I was sixteen. I was sixteen, and I miss him, and this … this was something that he kept from all of us. I just need to do this. I need to do it for me. For my father. I…I probably sound ridiculous, but I need to do this.”

Micah looked at her for a long moment. “You don’t sound ridiculous.”

She met his gaze, and her heart raced. Did he really want to kiss her? She pushed the thought away. “I don’t?”

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.

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