“Good call. I’ll go get us some fresh drinks. Do you want the same beer?”
“That would be great.”
“You stay here. I’m not done with you yet.” I point at her, grin and make my way to the bar. The line is long, and by the time I get the two bottles, it’s been at least ten minutes since I walked away from Remi.
When I return to our seats, they’re empty.
But on the small table is a note.
Seth-
Sorry. I just can’t.
R
I take a swig of the beer and swear under my breath.
Just my luck. The first woman I’ve been truly interested in in a long time, and she ghosts me.
I set the bottles on the high-top and rack the balls on the table.
If I can’t flirt with a beautiful woman, I might as well work on my pool game so I can kick Gage’s ass the next time I see him.
Chapter 2
~Remi~
Cunningham Falls, Montana isn’t what I expected it to be when I set off in my van two months ago. I put Los Angeles in my rearview, excited for some new adventures all on my own and without a camera crew in my face.
And I looked forward to coming to northwest Montana the most, but I thought I’d be in the boonies. That there may not be electricity everywhere and that people would ride on horses way more than I’ve seen in the four days I’ve been in town. There are plenty of mountains that look like a traveler’s postcard and wide-open spaces, though. I can’t stop staring at the views.
But while I don’t have the best cell service, that seems to be the only inconvenience I’ve found so far. Given that I’d rather never see social media again in my life, I’m not sad about it.
Surprisingly, this little mountain town is modern with all of the conveniences I love in the city, including a gorgeous yoga studio, plenty of delicious restaurants, and a farmer’s market that had me longing for my gourmet kitchen in my apartment in California.
My former apartment, that is.
I gave that up, along with my car and most of my belongings so I could live the travel-van life. And until I saw the produce at last night’s farmer’s market, I haven’t regretted it at all. I have to admit, even the thought of making fresh marinara isn’t enough for me to go back to my old life. I have a stove in the van, I can make it work if I really want.
Given that the busy tourist season recently ended, I found a great RV park on the outskirts of town that had room for me, and the nice owners told me I could stay for as long as I want.
Right now, I’m paying weekly.
I don’t have a schedule. I don’t have a plan.
And after so many years of tight deadlines and every minute scheduled down to the second, I like it this way.
Early mornings are my favorite time of day, no matter where I am, but it’s quickly become even more so the case here in this little town. Autumn is settling in, adding a crispness to the air—especially early in the day.
The sliding door of my van is open, and I’m sipping coffee as I listen to the birds and watch the sky turn from gray to blue.
The campground is quiet. The few others here must still be sleeping.
Today is my relaxation day. I’ve been driving or hiking every day for several weeks, so I decided that now is a good time just to be. Which isn’t easy for me. I don’t like sitting around. Being lazy is not my thing. I wish I could relax, but it always feels like I’m wasting time when I do. That I could be accomplishing something productive.
Today, I plan to ride my bike the mile into town, get breakfast, then stop at the store for some of my favorite snacks. And then, come hell or high water, I’m going to take a nap, watch a movie, and maybe even read a book.
I have the hiking guide for Glacier National Park that I bought a year ago when I first thought about this adventure, and it’s probably best that I at least plan out the hike I want to take tomorrow.
So, with that decided, I drink the last of my coffee.
If I relax today, I can hike tomorrow.
It’ll be my reward.
I tuck my wallet into the bag on my bike, make sure the van is locked up tight, and set off for the little deli I found on the main drag in town.
It’s literally called Little Deli.
Cunningham Falls has a quaint downtown that’s about three city blocks long. That’s it. And it’s damn adorable. I bet it looks like a Hallmark movie in the winter.
I lean my bike against a post on the sidewalk and don’t even bother locking it up before stepping inside Little Deli. They serve amazing sandwiches and soups in the afternoon, but in the morning, it’s my own private slice of Heaven.