Last Summer(51)

She laughs again, shaking her head. “No, there’s a difference. A falsely inflated ego—”

“Falsely?” he blisters.

She holds up a hand, trying not to laugh more. “Don’t interrupt me. A falsely inflated ego is not the same as genuine self-confidence. A solid belief in your abilities. Absolute trust in your skills. When you have that, which you do, yeah, you go out and test your limits. Here’s where you’re different from those idiots in the YouTube videos riding their dirt bikes off someone’s roof. I know you told me that you pushed your limits after Stephanie left, but on-screen, you seem to have a solid concept of your limits. You know when to pull back. You know when to cut off a challenge midstunt because it’ll get you killed. Remember that prime-time game-show host you had on your show? What was his name?” She rapidly snaps her fingers and points at Nathan. “Thad Fillmore.”

Nathan’s lip curls. “That guy’s an ass. He almost got us killed.”

“Right. The challenge was to drive a jeep across a wide crocodile-infested riverbed. But it wasn’t the crocs that had you worried. It was the weather. You kept squinting at the sky, which couldn’t have been bluer had you painted it.”

“You noticed that?” Nathan remarks, impressed.

“I studied you while I watched. Anyway . . .” She waves a hand to get back on point. “Thad badgered you to get on with the challenge, but you kept stalling. I had to replay the segment a few times because you were muttering something about a change in the air. It smelled different to you. You told Thad you were concerned about a flash flood. Thad laughed and pointed at the sky. He called you a phony—”

A short, sarcastic laugh pops from Nathan. “That’s putting it mildly.”

“Your editor was kind enough to bleep out his more colorful language. But Thad got in your face. I thought for sure you’d punch him. I was disappointed when you didn’t.” She grins.

“I wanted to.”

“But you didn’t. You kept your cool.”

He smirks. “Feel free to add self-restraint to my growing list of attributes.”

“Aren’t you funny?” She wags a finger at him, enjoying their conversation entirely too much. “I think there were eight minutes left in the show when the camera finally panned in the direction you’d been looking the entire episode. It wasn’t the sky overhead that bothered you. It was the thunderclouds upriver. Sure enough, the last five minutes of the episode showed the river rising rapidly and overflowing while you, Thad, and your crew observed from higher ground. The best part of the episode was the close-up of Thad’s sheet-white face. It said it all. He would have drowned had you let him cross.”

“I would have lost several of my crew that day. We were in a wide ravine. A quick escape would have been near to impossible.”

“Don’t you see, though? You might operate at full throttle, but from your audience’s perspective, you never lose sight of the risks.”

Nathan rests his forearms on the table, leaning forward. “What’s your point, Skye?”

“My point is, Stephanie didn’t see the cautious side of you.” Whereas Ella does. She’s seeing a lot. There’s more to him than the thrill-seeking junkie with good looks. He is considerate and attentive, loves hard, and punishes himself just as hard. And Ella finds him entirely too fascinating and enticing than is professionally acceptable. But then, Nathan’s giving her what Damien’s withheld of late. Conversation—fun banter and deep reflection.

“Are you going to put that in the article?” Nathan asks.

“I think it’s worth showing readers, I mean . . . Steph, that you value life more than the next thrill.”

He slowly nods. He doesn’t say it, but his expression tells Ella he appreciates her perspective. He’s just as fascinated with their discussion. So she takes the opportunity to point their conversation north.

“Tell me about Alaska.”

“Alaska.” He pushes back in his chair and a smile spreads across his face. “Off the Grid 2.0.”

“You’re returning to television?” Blow her over. She didn’t see that coming.

“No, nothing like that,” he clarifies. “I’m launching an elite adventure company, where the tours will be tailored to the traveler’s destination preference, skill set, and budget. Private tours. No cameras allowed except those my clients bring. I doubt I’ll ever do television again.” He shrugs.

“I’m meeting with the owner of a heli-skiing outfit to broker a deal. I want discounts for my clients in exchange for exclusivity—I only do trips of that nature through them. In return, they get my endorsement and additional promotion on my site.”

“Sounds like a great venture,” she says. “You leave tomorrow morning?”

“Day after. I pack and prep tomorrow. Drop the dogs off at the kennel.”

She lifts her chin and studies him. “So the recluse is going skiing. You haven’t completely given up on pushing your limits. Heli-skiing isn’t for the faint of heart.”

“I’ll never give up skiing. I’ve eased up, though.”

“Eased up? You realize you’re talking about being helicoptered onto a mountain, right?”

“Yeah, I know. But I’m controlled and cautious.” He lifts a brow, his expression teasing.