“Let’s do this.” Dylan thrust open the door with the sudden urge for fresh air and to put some distance between them.

Wisely, Joy swapped her blindingly white sneakers for running shoes. They purchased waters and snacks, then backtracked to the Travelview Overlook. From there they walked along the Rim Trail.

Every twenty steps or so, Joy paused to take photos. She snapped pictures of the view, of the birds pecking at trash, and of the people walking around them.

“They’re interesting.” She shrugged when he pulled a face. Taking pictures of strangers was weird.

She also took selfies. Lots and lots of fucking selfies.

How many photos did she need of herself?

“I delete most of them,” she said when she caught him watching her.

Dylan showed her his palms and shot a whatever-floats-your-boat look.

She handed him her phone once and asked him to take her picture. She never offered to take his, or for them to take one together, and that bothered him. It shouldn’t, but it did.

They reached Mather Point. The view was impressive, but Joy didn’t seem impressed. She didn’t even look down. She leaned on the rail and swiped her palm up her forehead and into her hair, which she’d wrenched into a high ponytail. It had lost its swishiness and looked limper than a wet noodle. She still looked cute to him.

“It’s hot,” she muttered.

Like a mother, Dylan wanted to add.

“Gorgeous view, though.” He leaned on the rail beside her and caught a whiff of her perspiration and a hint of perfume. Something light and floral. It suited her.

“Judy would have loved it.”

He frowned, surprised at the mention of Joy’s sister. What prompted that? He wanted to ask about her, but Joy looked bored. He thought about telling her that the colors were amazing. Yes, it was hazy. But those colors were going to pop at sunset and blow her mind. He almost suggested that they hang around, but he held his tongue. Crowds irritated him, and she was set on getting to Albuquerque at a reasonable hour. Something about having to call the fiancé before dark. Like a freaking check-in curfew.

Dylan angled his body so that he faced her more than the view that she wasn’t even looking at. She also didn’t look bored—he’d been wrong. Her face was drawn, a pronounced pucker between sculpted brows his finger itched to trace. Her mind was far from the canyon yawning below them. He had a pretty good idea where it was.

“Tell me about her,” he dared asking, his tone gentle.

Joy’s head snapped up. “Who?”

“Your sister. What was she like?”

A flicker of fear skittered across her blue eyes, chased by something else. Guilt? He wasn’t sure. It was gone in an instant, but not before it tugged something inside of him.