Last Summer(52)

A phone rings. Nathan leans on his hip and pulls out his cell phone from his back pocket. He glances at the screen, frowns, then lifts his eyes to her. “Excuse me. I have to take this.”

He gets up from the table, answering the phone as he closes the sliding glass door behind him. “Nathan Donovan,” Ella hears him answer before the door closes, cutting him off. He faces inside the house and she can see his frown deepen to a scowl.

Ella pushes out a breath. Who’s the caller? Hopefully it’s nothing serious. Getting an invite to Alaska will be near impossible if this is bad news.

Rising from the table, she clears their empty bowls and rinses them in the sink. It doesn’t take long for Nathan to come back inside. He slams the slider behind him. Energy rolls off him. Cheeks reddened either from the cold or anger, he taps his phone against his thigh, agitated.

“What is it?” she asks.

“Come with me.”

“To Alaska?”

He nods.

“Yes. I’d love to,” she blurts, not giving him a chance to think twice. She grins. That was easy.

Nathan tosses his phone on the counter. He approaches her, brushing his thumb across his lower lip, his expression pensive. He stops close enough that Ella is forced to look up at him. She can smell the cool evening air on him. It quickens her heartbeat, deepens her breathing.

“I wasn’t planning on inviting you,” he says in a gruff tone.

“Too late. I’m tagging along. You can’t change your mind.”

“I won’t. I want you to come. I’ve been enjoying our time together. You?”

“Professionally speaking? It’s been an adventure.”

He smiles easily, the right side of his mouth pulling up a little higher than the left. “And personally?”

Warmth inches up her neck. She can imagine the blush he sees and wishes she could stop it.

“Yes,” she whispers.

He smiles, pleased. “Let’s call it a night then. We can wrap this up in Alaska.”

“My thoughts exactly,” she says, shifting back into business mode. “I have to get up early in the morning and do some shopping. I didn’t pack for Alaska.”

“I’ll join you. I have to pick up a few items at Alpine Mountaineering in town.” He touches her hair, moving aside a wisp that had fallen over her eye. “Check out of your hotel in the morning. Stay here tomorrow night.”

“With you?” Her face heats.

“Ah, no,” he says with a nervous laugh. “I have a guest room. We’re flying out of Reno first thing. It’ll save us time in the morning to drive straight there from here.”

“What flight? I’ll book my ticket.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Nathan,” she says. “This is business. Luxe Avenue will foot my bill. I’ll give you my credit card number.”

“No way, I want the miles.” He flashes an impish grin, but Ella gives him a look. “Fine. I’ll email the bill to your editor. The magazine can reimburse me. Agreed?”

Ella relaxes a little. “Okay.”

“Good. Then it’s settled. I’ll meet up with you in town tomorrow morning.”

“Indeed.” Though she does wonder exactly what they settled.





CHAPTER 21

“Too thick.” Nathan takes the liberty of removing the pair of socks Ella added to her shopping basket.

“News flash. I get cold easily.” She tosses the socks back in her basket.

As planned, she checked out of her hotel after breakfast. Nathan texted the location of Alpine Mountaineering, adding that he’d meet her there.

Nathan wears another one of his button-down flannels under a hunter-green jacket. A beat-up vintage Northstar-at-Tahoe cap is on his head. Oakley aviators hang from the collar of his heather-gray undershirt. His rugged handsomeness, his subtle aloe-soap-and-pine scent, and his nearness—most especially his nearness—keep drawing her eye. She can’t seem to get her fill of him.

Nathan replaces the socks, dropping a different pair in the basket.

“Aren’t those a little thin for where we’re going?” she observes.

“They’ll be fine. Believe it or not, they’re designed to keep your feet warmer and allow them to breathe. You’ll sweat in those others, then that sweat will chill in the Alaskan climate and your toes will freeze.”

“If you say so.” She skims the label of the pair he selected.

“We had an in-depth discussion about socks last summer.”

“Did we? Sounds fascinating.”

“It was a surprisingly thorough conversation. We covered the need for ventilation zones and stretch recovery. Don’t you hate it when the elastic fails?”

“We’re talking about socks, right?” She eyes him as she digs through the discount sock bin.

“Absolutely. Socks bunched at the ankle is the worst sort of inconvenience midhike.”

“The horror.” She gives him an exaggerated shiver. “What about seams? Were you one of those kids who wouldn’t put on his shoes until the sock seams laid exactly right over your toes?”

“That was me to a T. Good news, though. These socks have no seams.” He dangles another pair in front of her face. She snatches them and drops them in her basket.