I catch her looking at me a couple of times. Maybe because she knows I’m looking at her? But I don’t see ire or annoyance in her eyes when they catch on my face. Or more often, my body. She checking me out? Or is she watching me ride, trying to pick up some pointers? I’m sweating bullets by the time we crest the final ridge that rises above the mighty Colorado River. I can smell the water before I see it: earthy petrichor, the smell of rain on land that’s gone too long without it. Glancing at Mollie, I wonder what she’d do if I pulled off my shirt and went for a swim to cool down. Would she
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Oh my!!
