"Tyler?"
"—had left me some stuff on the porch—boots, gas, firewood, and breakfast."
Demarco chuckled, low and lascivious.
"What?"
"Somebody likes you."
"He's just friendly."
"What time is it there?"
"Eight-thirty."
"Mercy."
"I know."
"So this friendly guy comes back up the mountain at the butt-crack of dawn to bring you
breakfast."
"Stop it. I'm telling you… you've got it wrong."
"Fine. Whatever. At least your mind's off of Mac."
"I need this, D. I'm putting me first. And what better way? There's no one here to take care of but myself."
"Good," Demarco said, relaxing the shtick. "I expect daily reports."
"Yes, mother."
"Now, go practice your snow-mobile."
"I plan to."
"And write that bestseller."
"I'm gonna."
"And, Alec…"
"Yes, D."
"Find out more about this cowboy."
9
There was nothing wrong with the water heater. Alec stood in the shower, absorbing the deeply
penetrating wet heat for a good ten minutes. After, he shaved and found the emergency underwear and socks he'd stashed in his toiletry kit.
He dressed in the clothes he had including the boots Tyler had added to the mix. They fit fine,
perfect in fact.
Hot shower, good shoes, keep those positive vibes coming.
