A Vine Mess (Love on the Vine #4)

15. Ella

Our first stop of the day was Mount Rushmore, and pictures truly couldn’t have prepared me for the sheer majesty of the monument.

The cliffs were towering, the faces intricately rendered in the rock in a feat of mankind I had difficulty grasping fully. The walkway to enter was lined with flags from each of the states, and I gave a cheesy grin as Liam made me stop in front of the Michigan one for a photo.

When we approached the end of the walkway and leaned against the concrete half wall that prevented us from falling to great bodily harm on the trees and rocks below, I said to Liam, “Why these four?”

His forehead was creased when he turned to me. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, why did they pick these four to memorialize?”

“Well, I think Washington and Lincoln are obvious,” he said, gesturing to the two giant heads of our first and sixteenth presidents. “First president of our country, and the man who led our country through the Civil War.”

“Okay, fair enough,” I conceded. “But what about the other two?”

Liam held up a finger, said, “Hold that thought,” and darted away. I brought my attention back to the faces of those four long-dead presidents as I waited for him.

“Okay,” he said, a whoosh of air stirring my hair with his return. “Thomas Jefferson represents the expansion of our country, both as the signer of the Louisiana Purchase and author of the Declaration of Independence . Roosevelt represents conservation and the industrial boom of the country.”

I hummed, greatly appreciating the history lesson. “Do you want to walk down there?” I asked him, pointing at the pathways that cut through the hillside and brought visitors closer to the monument.

“Sure,” he said, gesturing for me to lead the way.

We chatted about nothing important as we moved down the paths, stopping every so often to take photos, both of the monument and each other.

“You know what we should do,” Liam said as we stepped off the path back onto the main walkway that would take us to the parking lot.

“Huh?” I asked, turning toward Mount Rushmore to get one last shot.

His grin was mischievous as he said, “I was thinking…we should go hunting for Cíbola while we’re here.”

The comment was so off handed, I stopped dead in my tracks, tipped my head back, and let loose a full belly laugh that seemed to go on forever.

Damn, it felt good.

“Oh my god,” I said, swiping at my eyes when I calmed down enough to speak. “You’re a National Treasure fan?”

“Duh,” he replied, like it should’ve been obvious. “Isn’t everyone?”

I chuckled as we continued our trek back to the van.

“No,” I assured him. “My sisters hate when it’s my turn to pick for movie night because we end up watching those a lot. They’re classics, you know. I don’t understand why people don’t like them.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you. But Nick Cage is a divisive man.”

“He definitely has some duds,” I agreed. “But those aren’t it.”

“Preach, sis,” he said with a wink as we loaded into the van.

I chuckled as we pulled out and headed for Deadwood.

There was so much more to this man than I thought, and I was loving peeling back his layers, excited by the prospect of what I’d uncover next.

Deadwood, South Dakota, was one of my new favorite places. The buildings had that old western vibe that made me feel like we’d stepped back in time. There were frequent shootout demonstrations and music in the streets, the people were friendly as hell, and it was a gorgeous day to simply wander around without any destination in mind.

I’d been terrible so far on this trip about buying my family souvenirs, so I forced Liam to stop in no fewer than twenty shops with me. Much to his chagrin, we spent nearly an hour in a cobbler’s store while I tried on several pairs of cowboy boots, FaceTiming my sisters to get their opinions on which ones I should buy.

I had an ulterior motive, though. I wasn’t even remotely surprised when they each chose different pairs as their favorites, and they were all coming home with me as presents. Would they be mad at me for spoiling them? Of course. But what good was my money if I didn’t spend it on the people I loved most?

For myself, I settled on a pair of classic tawny brown ones with beautiful detailing along the vamp and shaft in black thread. Combined with my outfit that day of ripped skinny jeans, tank top, and my tattoos fully on display, I felt like a bit of a bad ass.

I didn’t feel even a little bit bad when Liam offered to carry the bags of boots down the street and I let him. The whole thing seemed very…domestic. Like he was my boyfriend, and man enough to carry the spoils of my shopping adventures.

My head was on a swivel as we stepped back into the sun, seeking our next stop, when we were halted on the sidewalk by a man pointing a toy gun in my face and saying, “Hand over your wallet.”

He looked haggard, his black cowboy hat dusty and well loved, his chaps soft and buttery over blue jeans that had faded—purposely or from use, I had no idea.

Though I knew he was an actor, he had perfected the lawless cowboy persona, a sneer on his lips, his dark eyes narrowed in anger.

Before I could react—a laugh had gone as far as bubbling in my throat, never to be released—Liam stepped between me and the man. “I don’t fucking think so, pal.”

The man blinked, clearly confused, and I’d bet good money no one had ever challenged him like that before.

As he lowered the gun, the man said, “I’m just messing around.”

“Pick another target.”

I knew it was all an act, that the man truly didn’t mean me any harm, but Liam stepping in front of me and protecting me? Fuck. My panties might’ve gotten a little wet at the sudden rush of desire I experienced. I could take care of myself, but it was ridiculously sexy that he wanted to do it for me.

With his hands raised in surrender, the man stepped around us and disappeared down the street. Not long after, I heard laughter coming from behind us as he claimed his next victim.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I told him as we stepped into the street, his hand looped around my elbow to steer me around an oncoming carriage towed by a massive horse.

Liam chuckled softly, almost disbelievingly, to himself. “I know. That was an overreaction. But I saw a gun and…just moved.”

“So what you’re saying is you’d take a bullet for me,” I joked.

When he glanced down at me, his expression was serious as he said, “Of course I would.”

Fucking hell. This man and his proclamations. If he kept saying shit like that, I’d wind up as nothing more than a puddle at his feet.

Desperate for a subject change, I said, “What do you say we take these bags to the van and pay a visit to the cemetery? ”

“Sure.”

After dropping my shopping spoils off, we headed up the hill, away from town and to the ridge that overlooked it where Mount Moriah Cemetery was. Cemeteries had always given me the creeps—it was why I rarely went to visit my grandparents in Traverse City—but there was something particularly sinister hanging over this one. Maybe it was because it was the final resting place of outlaws like Wild Bill Hickok and Calamity Jane.

People meandered along the pathways, but a number of them seemed to be heading straight toward the monument to Wild Bill then taking their leave immediately after.

I could see the draw. The armless bronze bust was an incredible likeness—I assumed anyway; I’d never actually seen his photo. But the artist had paid great attention to detail, at the very least. Face intricately rendered, shaggy hair blowing on a phantom wind, almost as if he lived on in spirit.

“Did you know most of Wild Bill’s notoriety came from fictitious stories he told about himself?”

I turned to Liam, who had stepped up beside me to admire the monument. “Really? I thought he was like a super bad guy.”

Liam shook his head. “He was actually a lawman, and he fought and spied for the Union during the Civil War.”

My eyes widened. “So he was actually…a good guy?”

“Seems that way.”

Damn. Incredible, the way time could twist the truth until it became something unrecognizable.

Isn’t that exactly what had happened to me by the end of my relationship with Alfie? He’d stripped away everything I’d been, the woman I was growing into, until I was the girl he wanted. And even then, it hadn’t been enough to make him stay.

“Calamity Jane was apparently a mostly upstanding citizen too,” he continued, unaware of the negative turn my thoughts had taken. “Although, she was an alleged prostitute, so maybe not that upstanding.”

His comment was wild enough to pull me out of the funk that threatened me, and a laugh bubbled out. “Where did you learn all this shit?”

He shrugged. “Google.”

That only made me laugh harder, and I clapped a hand over my mouth to quell it. We were in a cemetery, for fuck’s sake. I needed to show some respect.

Eventually, after taking a few turns along the paths, studying the old monuments and headstones, seeing who could find the oldest one with a legible date, we meandered back down into town in search of some food.

“Bet you feel a kinship with these wild westerns,” Liam said, jostling me with his elbow as we walked down the sidewalk. Twenty or so feet ahead of us, the fake robber from earlier held up another couple.

With a chuckle, I slapped him playfully in response to his comment. “Ahh yes, criminals. My kinda folk.”

“Your entire family enterprise was built on illegal activity,” he reminded me.

“Be careful how loud you say that!” I hissed jokingly, pulling him into an alcove and furtively glancing up and down the street, pretending like the lawmen were after me. “People could get the wrong idea!”

Liam boomed out a laugh, and I pinched him to shut him up. “ You’re ridiculous. Maybe I should shorten your nickname to ‘Wild.’”

“Shhhh,” I whispered. “There are eyes everywhere.”

But there weren’t. Definitely not here in this small, shaded space.

I moved my hand to his cheek, loving the rough stubble against my delicate palm.

Liam’s eyes fluttered closed briefly as he sighed, then opened again. That ocean blue stare fucking leveled me.

“There aren’t any eyes on us, Wildflower,” he said quietly. “Just mine on you.”

I inhaled sharply, the movement sending the tips of my breasts brushing against Liam’s upper abdomen. Fuck, he was tall. And so broad he could turn us sideways and entirely block my body from view. He could cocoon us in here so no one would ever see what was happening between us.

That was enough to get my heart rate pumping, but it was only when his palms settled on my hips, his fingers flexing into the sides of my ass, reminding me of our night in the tent, that I realized what a truly grave error I had made.

Slowly, I dropped my hand from his face, only to lower it to his chest, copping a feel of a single ridiculously firm and meaty pec, and Liam licked his lips.

“W-what’re you doing?” I asked.

“Touching you. Is that okay?”

“Depends what you’re going to do next.”

“I’m not sure,” he answered honestly, his voice a low rumble that sent goosebumps skittering across my skin. “Every nerve ending in my body is demanding I pull you closer, but my mind is screaming at me that that’s a bad idea. So we’re going to let you decide.”

I lifted my other hand so both were on his chest. Like this, I could push him away—or curl my fingers into the soft material of his tee and pull him closer. Fuse our mouths together and give into this attraction sparking to life between us.

But…I wasn’t ready for that, and he must’ve been watching me closely enough to understand the second I made the decision, must’ve seen it in my eyes because he only nodded, yielded a step but took my hand, and pulled me from the alcove.

“Are we okay?” I dared ask as he dropped my hand once we were back out in the open and set a brisk pace up the street in the direction of the old timey saloon we’d passed earlier.

“Of course,” he said. “Just…need a drink.”

That made two of us.