Page 15 of The Inn Dilemma

“Let’s go!” Nova releases a girlish squeal, pulling me out of my lapse in sanity.

Her gaze sweeps between me and my bike. It’s like I can see the tension slowly drain out of her as she unleashes her contagious smile. Before I can preparemyself, she throws her hands in the air and waves them all around like an inflatable tube-man drawing in customers at a used car lot. I can’t hold back my laugh at her absolutely ridiculous and purely Nova response. Her essence is already drawing me in, and I remind myself once more that she is freshly out of a breakup. Even more importantly, she’s taking a dating sabbatical, and I respect her too much to push her into something she’s not ready for. Especially knowing her history.

“She’s a beauty. I can’t wait to hit the open road with her.” Nova slides on her helmet.

Nova has never been afraid of anything—something that annoyed her father and brother—but it’s something I’ve always admired about her.

Nova taps her foot impatiently. “Come on!”

“All right, I’ll get on first and you’ll just swing your leg around and grip me around my waist.”

She flips up her visor, then puts her hands on her hips. “I know what to do, Holt. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

“I don’t plan on bucking you off. So hopefully this will be less of a rodeo and more of a joy ride.” I throw one leg over the bike, then reach a hand out to help Nova.

“It will be!” She takes my hand and places her other on my shoulder to balance herself as she gets on.

Once we’re settled, I flip down my visor, crank the key, and we’re off. It’s a beautiful day with not a cloud in the sky.

We can’t really talk over the sound of my bike. Maybe I should install the comms the guys and I have in her helmet. It would be far easier to ignore the rightness of how all of this feels if I could carry on a conversation with her instead of focusing on how perfect her body feels pressed against mine as she clings to me.

I’ve missed her. The thought hits me like a freight train. She may be my best friend’s younger sister, but she’s been my friend too. Nova is the girl I looked out for when needed. The girl who’d tag along when Christian allowed it.

I’ve never seen Nova as a little sister. Our relationship was different. She was SuperNova, a silly nickname I gave her one night when she, Chris, and I camped out under the stars in their backyard. Nova has always been someone unique and special to me.

Her one arm releases me, and she taps my shoulder before pointing at a mule deer up on the cliff to our right. It makes me smile how something I see almost every day excites Nova so much. Even though she’s like a chameleon, able to adapt to wherever she is, I know she’s a country girl through and through. This is where she’s meant to be.

We’re coming up on the overlook I haven’t stopped at in years. I slow down and pull off into the little nook on the side of the road. Nova jumps off the back of my bike the second I’m parked and sets her helmet on the seat. I follow suit, walking behind her to the overlook.

“I never want to forget this view or take this beauty for granted again,” Nova says. Her fingers curl around the metal bars, and she stands on her tiptoes, as if she’s searching for something.

Coming to stand beside her, I say, “Yeah. I didn’t truly appreciate Colorado until after I came back home. We live among so much beauty here.” Then I stareat her profile, and her eyes meet mine for a single moment. A sensation that’s only grown stronger since being around Nova courses through me.

A soft smile plays on her lips as she turns back to take in the sight in a brief, pensive silence. “I missed this.”

“Me too,” I mutter, my eyes still on her.

For long minutes, we stare at the wide expanse of mountains and forest. This vast wilderness strikes me with awe every time I stop and actually smell the pine trees. To see the intentional, intricate details of everything on this earth.

For so many years, I questioned the validity of a Creator God. Dad taught me that we forged our own destiny, made our own way, and could only rely on ourselves to survive. He never even gave me a false sense of security that he was looking out for me the years I grew up with him in my life. I practically raised myself until I turned twelve and he dropped me off to live with Uncle Walt and Aunt Birdie to do what “he was born to do,” which was apparently drive trucks.

It took years for me to see it, but Aunt Birdie and Uncle Walter showed me what unconditional love was. They took me to church, where I learned about Jesus. And when they brought me into their home without thought or delay, they showed me Jesus. It just took me until my early twenties to realize it and appreciate the sacrifices they made.

Nova pulls me from my reverie when she squeals, “Look! There’s a moose!”

“Where?” I ask, leaning forward and scanning the trees for any sign of antlers. It could be a cow—a female moose—but I don’t think Nova would be as excited for that.

She motions me to come closer and points. I still can’t see it, so I step behind her to get a better view. Her breath hitches, and I don’t miss the way her arm trembles when I rest my hand on the bar next to her waist.

“Right there,” she says breathlessly. I finally see it.

It’s a bull moose with an impressive rack.

“That’s a legal one, too,” I note, taking a step back. “It would look mighty fine hanging over my mantel.”

She doesn’t remove her attention from the moose but reaches behind and swats at me. “We’re here to appreciate nature, to soak in its majesty, not hunt.”

“I don’t think you’d have that attitude if you were eating my moose burgers.”

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