Page 86 of The Lost Book of First Loves

“That’s what I said,” Ali said with a smile. “But Xander has his heart set on going and I don’t want to disappoint him.”

As they went to their respective bedrooms, Ali had the sudden realization that she was far more excited about spending two days with Xander than she was at the idea of going out to dinner with Clint Maclean.

Something was definitely wrong with that picture.

Chapter 28

Juniper

She was right. She knew she was.

Juniper read the passage again, tracing the words with her finger.

I wrote all day today. I believe this might be my best work. That sounds silly and arrogant when I’ve only finished one novel, but I believeThe Forgotten Roadrings with truth and heartbreak. I’m not sure if this story will ever be finished, or if it’s even meant to be. It feels more like a confession than a book. Still, I keep writing, chasing her ghost on the page.

June knewBeneath the Dusty Sky, his second published book, even better than she knewPurgatory River. She had once written a paper on it for her advanced placement English class in high school. It was a coming-of-age story about a teenage orphan in the 1960s who sets off on a quest to find his only living relative.

While there was a small romantic element to the story in the brief innocent relationship between his protagonist and the older girl he befriends along the way, she certainly wouldn’t have called it a love story, and she couldn’t imagine anyone else saying so.

She was immersed again in the journals when she heard the doorbell ring and caught her breath. She had almost—but not quite—forgotten that Beck had texted the night before to tell her he had to put aside the table she had watched him start while he finished an earlier project. She was still welcome to watch him, but it wouldn’t be the same project.

When she said she would stay and work on the journals, he had offered to stop by in the afternoon to take her on a short hike above the ranch if she wanted.

She rose, rotating her neck and her shoulders. Who knew that spending hours poring over a man’s journals could be so physically demanding? She should set a timer to remind herself to move a little more, as she tended to become completely absorbed in Carson Wells’s words.

She wished she could have met the man.

It felt truly odd to be living in the house of a stranger while still feeling as if you knew his inner thoughts and emotions.

She answered the door and had to smile when she saw Hank sitting on his haunches there with a few wildflowers tucked into his collar.

“For me? Oh, Hank. You shouldn’t have.”

“He picked them himself,” Beck said. He looked lean, rangy, with a baseball cap hiding his dark hair and sunglasses concealing his expression.

She smiled at him, too, though she was fiercely aware of him, and her mind instantly filled with memories of their kiss.

“Did he? I’m curious how he might have stuck them under his collar without opposable thumbs.”

“I might have done that part,” he admitted, charming her completely. “Are you still up for a short hike today?”

“Sure. I could use a break. Let me put these flowers in some water and grab my shoes.”

She found an old jar in the cupboard she had noticed earlier, filled it with water and plunked in the flowers.

They immediately brightened up the cabin, she thought.

“Have you been up to the old homestead site yet?” Beck asked. “It has a great view overlooking the whole ranch.”

She shook her head. “Is it far?”

“Not far at all and it should be mostly shady all the way. There is a slight elevation gain, but nothing too arduous. We can always turn back if you feel like it’s too much.”

She wasn’t sure about any elevation gain, but decided she couldn’t avoid hills forever. Life was full of them, wasn’t it?

“Sure.”

He waited while she slipped into her tennis shoes and grabbed her water bottle and the same baseball cap he had given her.

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