“Just Maggie,” River repeated with a grin as he accepted the steaming mug she handed him and sank back into his chair. “So, what’s it like being a TV personality? Is it weird seeing yourself on screen?”
five
For the next twenty minutes, he peppered her with questions about specific builds, techniques she’d demonstrated on the show, even the origins of her salvaged materials. Unlike the strained, awkward interaction with Anson, this conversation flowed easily. River was open, warm, genuinely interested… exactly what she’d expected from her pen pal.
“Wait, hold on.” River all but bounced over to the small TV in the living area. “I need visuals for this.”
“What are you doing?”
“Finding your show. I want to ask about specific stuff.” He pulled up an episode on the network’s streaming service. He really must be a fan if he paid for that. “There we go.”
The familiar intro music filled the cabin. Maggie watched her own face appear on the small screen, demonstrating how to install reclaimed subway tile in a vintage camper.
“So the copper sink in your Airstream,” River said, his attention split between the screen and her face. “That was from the old church in Memphis?”
“Good memory. Found it in a salvage yard. The patina was incredible, and I couldn’t bear to polish it out completely.”
“I noticed it when you parked earlier.” His expression turned sheepish. “We all kind of peeked in your windows. Not in a creepy way! Just professional curiosity.”
“All of you?”
“Well, not Anson. He was too busy hiding in his forge pretending he wasn’t freaking out.” He fast-forwarded through the episode, pausing on a close-up of her hands working copper sheeting. “This joint here. You used what, a propane torch?”
“MAPP gas, actually. Hotter flame, cleaner seal.”
River’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it, grinned, and typed something back before setting it down and returning his attention to the TV,
She busied herself with finding a bowl for the pasta, afraid her face would reveal too much. The show kept playing in the background, her recorded voice explaining proper ventilation techniques. “Anson seemed... uncomfortable with me being here.”
“Ah, don’t take it personally. Anson’s not great with people in general.”
“He wasn’t like that in his letters. In writing, he’s... different.”
River paused the video mid-sentence, her on-screen self frozen with a welding mask pushed up on her forehead. “Yeah, that tracks. Words on paper don’t stare back at you. Don’t judge. Most of the guys here have some version of that problem. We’re all a little broken. It’s why we ended up at Valor Ridge in the first place.”
His phone buzzed again. He checked it and shook his head with a laugh. While he fired off another quick response, Maggie spooned pasta into a bowl, considering his words. The Anson she’d met today barely resembled the one she’d grown to care for through his letters.
But they were the same person.
Somehow.
“You said you’re a permanent resident here,” she ventured. “If you don’t mind me asking...”
“Why am I here?” His smile turned rueful. “Short version? Marine motor transport. Played a prank on my buddy’s Humvee. Rewired some stuff, nothing dangerous… or so I thought. I was just messing with it because he was being cocky about fixing it faster than me. It wasn’t supposed to be cleared for duty, but they told him to take the damn thing to a hot zone, and it quit on him. He died.” He looked down at his hands. “Manslaughter charge. Dishonorable discharge. Five years in Leavenworth.”
The raw honesty of it stole her breath. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugged, but she saw the flash of pain before his easy smile returned. “Ancient history. Been here seven years now.” He shoved up out of the chair and set his barely touched tea on the table. “Anyway, I should let you eat before it gets cold.”
Shit. She shouldn’t have asked. The change in him had been instant, like a window slamming shut. “No, stay. Please. It’s nice having company.”
He hesitated, then sank back into the chair. “Sorry. I’m not usually such a downer. Ask anyone. I’m the fun one around here.”
“It’s fine. I shouldn’t have pried.” She took a bite of pasta, savoring the rich flavor. Real food after days of fast food and gas station snacks tasted like heaven. “This is amazing.”
“Jo’s cooking is legendary. One of many reasons the guys at the bunkhouse wish Walker would just propose already.” River’s smile returned, though not quite reaching his eyes.
His phone buzzed twice in quick succession. He glanced at it, rolled his eyes, and typed back, muttering, “Not a love triangle, idiots.”
