Last Summer(30)

Lovely. She’s the red shirt ensign in a Star Trek episode. An extra in Cujo. She’s going to die.

Scanning the yard, she searches for their owner. Where is Nathan?

She goes to dial his number only to notice the lack of bars on her phone. No cell service. Wonderful.

A whistle pierces her ear. Furry heads rotate on shoulders and large, triangular ears angle forward. To Ella’s relief, Nathan’s first line of defense lopes back to the house, stopping at Nathan’s feet, where he stands on the porch watching Ella. A big, shit-eating grin lights up his face. Ella’s face, on the other hand, is white, completely void of blood, which pools in her feet.

Scowling, she gets out of the car and slams the door. “Don’t even try scaring me off. I’m not leaving.”

“I didn’t expect you would.”

The dogs whine at Nathan’s feet. Tails wagging, their eyes lock on her.

Her pulse beats in her throat. She keeps her hand on the door handle, ready to dive back into the car if they charge her again. “Do you have them under control?”

“Yep.”

“Then what’s their problem?” Those dogs need to calm down.

“They’re excited to see you. It’s been a while.”

She presses back against her car. “I’ve met your dogs?”

“You love my dogs. Come inside.” He waves her over. “I have coffee ready.”

Taking a deep breath, she grabs her things from the car and approaches the dogs. She lets them sniff her hand. They look up at her with dopey eyes and toothy smiles. She pats their heads and scratches behind their ears, and that’s it. They’re done with her. She’s old news. Following their noses, they wander off the porch, sniffing a trail on the ground.

“What breed are they?”

“Malamute. The big one over there is Fred and the other guy is Bing.”

“Let me guess, you like big band music.”

He takes offense. “I like the classics, you know that.”

“I don’t remember. Sorry,” she says, and she means it. The next couple of days will be a trial for them both.

Nathan drags his hands over his jaw. “No, I’m sorry. I assume you remember stuff, and . . .”

“And what?” she prompts when his voice stalls.

He lets his arms fall. “It’s not going to be easy talking about this again.”

“You mean talking about your son?”

He nods. “I didn’t expect to rehash everything. I figured we’d pick up where we left off. Wrap things up. Be patient with me?”

“One condition,” she offers, repeating his words from yesterday. “You’re patient with me. Pretend we just met.”

“That’s two conditions.”

She rolls her eyes. “Okay. Two conditions.”

“I can live with that.”

She shares his smile and he opens the front door, inviting her inside. Fred and Bing follow.

“For the record,” he says when she crosses the threshold, “I do like big band music. And Elvis, and the Beatles, Rolling Stones, Hendrix, Steppenwolf, the Doors. In case you want to make me a playlist or something.”

Ella smiles. He’s funny, though his humor is a tad dry. Letting his dogs loose on her hadn’t been coincidence or an accident.

She takes in Nathan’s house. High above, an open beam ceiling angles upward. The living, dining, and kitchen areas, decorated in natural materials and neutral tones, share one space on the main level. Stairs lead up to an open loft that faces the canyon and next mountainous rise. She can see a desk and computer monitor and feels a little comfort that she’s not completely off the grid. She bets he has Wi-Fi. She’ll have to ask him for the password. Another set of stairs leads down to what Ella assumes are the bedrooms.

The house is well crafted, the design impressive. But the most stunning aspect is the view outside the A-shaped patchwork of windows that bookend a stone fireplace, the flue yawning skyward through the ceiling.

Beyond the windows, a crystal-blue, cloudless sky bathes snow-drenched mountains. White firs and Jeffrey pines freckle the landscape. Being late March, the snowpack has melted in spots, exposing dirt and granite underneath, but for the most part, the mountains are still a winter wonderland.

“Your home is beautiful,” Ella says, joining Nathan in the kitchen area.

“Thanks,” he says, working an espresso machine.

“That’s a fancy coffee maker for a guy who prefers cooking over campfires.”

His brow lifts. “You do remember something about me.”

“No such luck. I read it in Outside.”

“Here I thought my charismatic personality brought it all back to you.” Ella’s lip quirks and Nathan smiles. “As for the coffee”—he turns a dial and steamed milk pours into a mug—“I take it seriously.” He nods in the direction of the table. “Have a seat.”

Ella drops her bag on the table, removes her laptop and voice recorder, and sits. Nathan brings over a steaming mug. He didn’t ask Ella how she takes her coffee when she has a fancy option, but one sip of the vanilla latte tells her it’s perfect. Exactly as she would have requested.

Because he knows her.

“Thank you,” Ella murmurs. She clears her throat, calling on her willpower to keep her hands from trembling. She doesn’t want Nathan to see her nerves. But he probably already senses her unease. He’s a guy who relies on his instincts for survival, and he’s had a lifetime to hone his. He detects nuances others don’t pick up. And from the way he’s studying her, he’s picking up on something.