Chapter 6

Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Boulder City, Nevada

Gusts of scorching wind whipped across their faces as Colt and Pamela stood atop Hoover Dam, leaning against the protective guardrail, and took in the amazing panorama. On one side, a vast lake stretched out, its glassy surface framed by the jagged silhouettes of desert mountains. On the opposite, Hoover Dam plunged like an imposing concrete wave, descending to the restless river below, where water surged and frothed from powerful vents.

“Holy sh –” Pamela caught herself, hand flying to her mouth. She blinked rapidly, as if attempting to reset her vision, to confirm that the scene before her was real. “I mean, wow. Just wow. Pictures don’t do it justice.”

“Pretty impressive, huh?” Colt cocked his head, the shadow of his baseball cap shifting across his face. “The dam, if I recall, is seven hundred and twenty-six feet high.”

Pamela’s brows shot up. “Seriously? That’s like ... what, sixty stories?”

“Give or take. And it’s six hundred and sixty feet thick. I once heard that it has enough concrete to build a two-lane highway from San Francisco to New York.”

Pamela’s head snapped around, eyes locking with his. “You’re kidding, right? That’s got to be an exaggeration.”

“No, it’s the truth.”

“Astonishing.” Sweat beaded Pamela’s temples as she crinkled her nose and gazed at the Colorado River below. “Makes you think, doesn’t it? About how big the world is, how much is out there.”

Colt’s eyes narrowed against the glare. He nodded, a flicker of recognition passing over his features. “And how much you still want to see?”

Pamela turned, blonde wisps dancing across her cheeks. “Yeah.” The wind nearly swallowed her words. “Something like that.”

Colt gulped over the ball of sawdust suddenly lodged in his throat. I’d love to be one who takes you everywhere, sweet girl, the one shows you the whole world.

This was Pamela’s only day off this week. When Colt had offered to take her sightseeing in Las Vegas, she’d surprised him by countering with Hoover Dam instead. Her reasoning was straightforward: she had just enjoyed the glitz and glamour of The Strip during a two-night stay at the Bellagio the previous week. While Vegas still held plenty of allure, Pamela’s bucket list called for something different today. Hoover Dam fit the bill perfectly.

Colt had readily agreed, intrigued by her choice. As the house manager, he often played tour guide for turnouts, showing them the local sights and helping them acclimate. But Pamela was different. Something about her – her vibrant presence, her quick wit, the way her eyes lit up when she smiled – sparked an inner fire in him that no other woman, let alone employee, ever had. As they stood there, taking in the breathtaking views, Colt found himself less focused on the dam and more on stealing glances at Pamela, savoring every moment of their time together.

“Hey, there’s this really nice gift shop up there on the hill, on the Arizona side.” Colt motioned behind him with a thumb. “Let’s go there and get some more water. Dehydration is no joke around these parts. I’ll even buy you a few souvenirs. Whatever you want, it’ll be yours.”

As they walked, a family of tourists shuffled past, the parents red-faced and dragging their feet while their children zipped around like caffeinated puppies. Pamela turned and watched them go, her lips pressing into a line.

“Hey,” Colt said, touching her elbow. “You okay?”

Pamela blinked, as if coming back to herself. “Oh, I’m fine. It’s just...” She trailed off, fingers fidgeting with her tank top. “I’m just thinking about my mom, that’s all. She has always wanted to visit the Hoover Dam and is gonna flip when I tell her I beat her to it.” Pamela glanced downward, sneakers scuffing the pavement. “Although, I doubt she’d be thrilled about the circumstances that brought me here.”

“You haven’t told her about the ranch yet?”

Pamela’s shoulders jerked as she let out a noise caught between a scoff and a laugh. “God, no. Can you imagine? Hey, Mom, guess what? I’m working in a brothel now! I’ve taken seven dicks in the past four days alone.” She kicked at a loose rock, sending it skittering across the pavement. “I’m sure that would go over real well at the next family reunion. Dad would be mortified too.”

“Look, Dakota, I’ve been doing this a long time. Most girls don’t tell their families. It’s okay. Some create a cover story – waitressing, bartending, whatever. Others simply say they’re working in hospitality. It’s your choice how to handle it. Just remember, what you do at the ranch doesn’t define you. It’s a job, not who you are.” Unless you’re me.

“You would know, right?” Intrigue sparkled in Pamela’s eyes as she turned to Colt, her lips slightly parted. “I’ve heard you’ve been at the ranch since the day you turned eighteen. That’s what, fourteen years now?”