“Hypothermia.” He ran his fingers through Caspian’s fur, almost absently. “I tried to keep her warm—and we had overnight gear. Sleeping bags, a stove. A tent. Moose carries a survival pack in his plane. But she went out one night, after we’d gone to sleep—I think she had to go to the bathroom. She never made it back, and a couple hours later, I discovered she was gone. I think maybe something scared her, and she got lost in the dark—anyway, by the time I found her, she was so far gone. I couldn’t bring her back...” He took a breath, stared again at his coffee. “I promised her I’d keep her safe and get her home.”
Ah.
She got it now. She was his do-over. Keely touched his arm. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugged, sighed, and met her eyes, this time his smile sweet, almost warm. “So, let me keep this promise to you, okay?”
She nodded. Then, “I know you think I’m a city girl, but I’m tougher than I look.”
His mouth quirked up.
“Really. I grew up in Minneapolis. And my dad was a cop. So, you know—life skills.”
“Like shooting a gun? A Glock 19?”
Huh. “Yes. My dad taught me to shoot. And some self-defense. So, you know, watch yourself. I can take you out.”
He smiled now, full on, and again, lethal, a stunner of a smile that he should probably register as a weapon. It even touched his eyes. His pretty blue eyes, the color of a Minnesota summer twilight.
Oh good grief, now she was writing songs in her head.
“Anyway.” She swallowed, took a sip of her coffee. “I can also fix cars.”
“No you can’t.”
“Can. My dad was a hobby mechanic. Let me take a look at those snowmobiles.”
He laughed then. “It’s not up to me, but I’ll tell Griffin we have Edd China in the house.”
“Joke’s on you. I know who Edd is.Wheeler Dealers. And I have better hair.”
A sort of chuckle huffed out of him, as if unused, rusty. “Yes, you do.” His smile touched his eyes again. “You are interesting, Keely. I think maybe I underestimated you.”
She smiled as she drained her coffee. “Get used to it.”
Ohbrother. She wanted to roll her eyes at her own lameness. But she couldn’t seem to stop herself.
“You’re dry. Want more?” He reached for her cup.
“Thanks.”
He got up, and she watched him walk over to the coffeepot set up on the serving counter. Maybe over six foot, well built, lean, wide shoulders, strong. Sure, he walked with a small limp, but it gave him the aura of a wounded warrior. Dark hair, cut short in the back, tousled in front. The man could grace an outdoor edition ofThe Rakewith his serious, focused demeanor.
Except for that smile. It reached in and loosed something inside her. Or maybe it was just his words ... interesting.
She liked being interesting. It felt layered and authentic.
So not Bliss.
He returned, set the coffee in front of her. “I thought you might be a sugar and whole milk girl.” He set a small cup of milk beside her mug. “I’ll be right back.”
The man limped back over to the counter and grabbed his mug and a bowl of sugar.
Maybe she didn’t care why he’d made a promise to her. Just that he had.
He returned and sat down, one leg over the bench, now facing her. He handed her the sugar bowl and a spoon.
She doctored her coffee as he took a sip of his, black.
