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 almost 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 the 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 sparkled when she smiled – stoked 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 of 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 asphalt. “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 danced in Pamela’s eyes, 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?”

Colt suppressed the low groan trying to claw its way out from within. “Word travels fast, I see.”

“Small house, seven girls living together, we cannot help but gossip. You know how it is.” Pamela chuckled, then bumped his shoulder. “So, spill. Have you ever thought about jumping ship? Doing something a little more … conventional?”

Colt’s pace slowed, his eyes fixed on the gift shop in the distance. “Sure, I’ve thought about it. But it’s not that simple.” He scrubbed his forehead, displacing the brim of his hat. “The ranch, it’s … it’s complicated. My old man, he’s got his heart set on me taking over someday. If he had a dying wish, that would be it.”

Pamela studied Colt, taking note of his rigid jaw and the way his backbone had stiffened. “And what about what you want?”

A sound like sandpaper on wood rasped from Colt’s throat, his eyes hardening. “Now there’s a loaded question.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Colt’s potential response was cut off by the unwelcome ringtone of his cell phone. He frowned, fishing it out of his chino pocket. “It’s the ranch,” he said, apology in his voice. “I should take this."

“Hey, Dad. Yeah, what’s up?”

As Colt focused on the call, Pamela turned back to the dam. She closed her eyes, feeling the sun on her face, the wind in her hair. For a moment, she allowed herself to forget about the expectations waiting for her back in Flagstone, the demand to look and act perfect at all times. Here, she embraced just being a young woman on an adventure, standing on the precipice of something monumental – in more ways than one.

“Yeah, yeah, we made it to Hoover Dam. What, really? You’ve talked to him about her? Tonight, you mean? He wants to see her tonight? Well, yeah, I suppose I can ask.” Colt paused, then shifted his attention back to Pamela. “Hey, Dakota. Got Dad on the line here.” Colt glanced about, making sure no one was in their immediate vicinity. Still, he lowered his voice anyway. “Dad says he knows it’s your day off but wants to know if you’d be interested in partying with one of our top clients tonight at nine o’clock. This guy, he’s got lots of money and isn’t afraid to throw more of it around if you show him a good time.”

“Nine o’clock?” Pamela dug her fingers through her windswept hair, tucking a wayward mass behind her head. “Yeah, I don’t mind a party on my day off. Tell William I’d love to. Trust me, I’ll show this client a good time.”

Once the call ended and Colt pocketed his phone, Pamela’s face energized as they tackled the incline, her steps light and bouncy. “Hey, Colt? Thanks for this. For bringing me here today, for everything you’ve done so far.”

“You’re very welcome, Dakota, my dear. We have all day before we have to go back to the house. After we walk around some more here, and take a tour of the dam’s engine room, I want to go to the Lake Mead Recreational Area and rent a paddleboat. I think you’d love it there.”

“Sounds awesome. Oh, and Colt?” Pamela’s expression crinkled into an impish smirk as she rolled her head in a deliberate, fluid motion, like a malfunctioning animatronic. “Happy Ending Ranch is what, two hundred miles away? I don’t think I’ll be whoring myself out atop the dam in plain sight today.” Her nose twitched. “Call me Pamela, ‘kay?”

“I prefer to stay in the habit of calling you Dakota. I don’t want your real name to slip in front of a customer.”

“Hey, relax.” Her fingers traced his forearm. “Look around. No neon lights, no mongers, no strap-on dildos. Just us. Come on, baby. Say it. Pa-me-la. This isn’t the brothel and you, of all people, well, you’re the furthest thing from a client there could possibly be for me. You’re special, and I like you. Please, call me Pamela. Please.”

Colt’s eyes darted around, his jaw rearranging. When she said you’re special, his breath hitched, and color rose to his cheeks. “I … well, I …” The corners of his mouth twitched upward. “Alright, Pamela. There. I said it.”

“That’s a good boy! So proud of you.”

A sudden warmth in his palm made Colt look down. Pamela’s fingers had laced around his, sending an unexpected thrill through his core. Like we’re an actual couple, right? The thought lingered as he met her eyes, her smile infectious as they climbed the stairs as one.

“So, this client I’m seeing tonight? Judging from what I heard of your conversation with William, seems like you know him. Sounds like a heavyweight in terms of business and spending. He’s a regular, right? What can you tell me? I’d love some intel before I dive headfirst into the GFE. You know, have a sense of what I’m getting myself into.”

“Oh, this guy, he can be quite … intense. But he’s a good dude. He’s older, mid- to late-forties, and yes, a regular. I think you’ll have an amazing time with Sammy.”

(End of Chapter Six - to be continued)