"It's not that cold." She's wearing one of the True North fleeces, sleeves pushed up to her elbows. Her fingers are pink at the tips. "I wanted to draw the treeline in this light."
Her smile dims slightly. She looks down at the sketchpad, adjusts a line with her thumb.
"Also…Owen's on calls. Important ones, it sounded like. I thought he could use the space."
There it is. Owen, doing what Owen does. Retreating behind the work, behind the closed door, behind the careful, bounded version of himself that nobody outside this family knows is a fortress and not a preference. People read his quiet as coldness. It's the opposite. Owen feels everything. He just processes it at a depth most people don't have the patience to reach, and when something threatens to pull him out of that depth before he's ready, he goes still and goes internal and waits for the world to become manageable again.
"Owen's fine," I say. "He gets like that when the numbers are talking to him. Don't take it personally."
She nods, but I can see she’s not buying it.
She shifts in the chair and winces. Just a small thing, a tightening around her mouth, a hitch in the movement.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Just stiff." She rolls her shoulder. "I've been sitting in the same position for too long."
I look at her. At the stiff set of her shoulders, the way she's holding herself slightly crooked. Then I look at the sky above the cabin, the light going amber and rose along the ridge, the kind of Montana sunset that makes you understand why people believed in gods.
"Funny," I say. "I'm stiff too. Hours in a truck will do that." I push off the railing. "I know exactly what fixes it."
She raises an eyebrow trying to find out where I am going with this.
"Hot tub. Out back. Best thing for it."
The eyebrow stays up. "I don't have a swimsuit."
"Swimsuit." I say the word like it's a foreign concept. "Maya. There is no swimsuit protocol for the hot tub. The optimal hot tub experience is, in fact, completely naked."
Her lips part.
"However," I continue, before she can form whatever objection is loading, "you can wear whatever you want. T-shirt. Shorts. Full evening gown. I'm not particular." I hold up my hands. "I’ll be on my best behavior. Scout's honor."
"Were you actually a scout?"
"Absolutely not. But the sentiment stands."
She's chewing her lower lip. The hesitation is visible, a small war between the part of her that wants to and the part that's been trained to calculate the cost of wanting anything. I've watched this war play out across her face a dozen times since she arrived.
"Where's fun Maya?" I tease. "I know she's in there."
Her chin lifts. Just slightly. Just enough.
Challenge accepted.
"Go get ready," I say. "Meet me around back."
She stands, gathers her pencils with quick, precise movements, and goes inside without looking back. The screen door closes behind her and I stand on the porch for a moment, breathing cold air and willing my body to calm the hell down because the image of Maya in a hot tub is already doing things to me that are going to be very difficult to disguise in water.
I go around the back of the cabin. The hot tub sits on the weathered deck, sunk into the platform, ringed by granite boulders and tall pines that block the wind and frame the sky. I pull the cover off, check the temperature. Perfect. Steam curls off the surface into the cold air, softening the edges of everything it touches.
I consider the lights. Decide against them. The sunset is doing enough, painting the steam gold and copper. The pines are going dark at their bases while their tops still catch the last of the light. Behind them, the mountains are turning that specific shade of blue-violet that only happens in the fifteen minutes before the light goes completely.
I strip down to my boxers, leave my clothes folded on the deck, and lower myself in.
The heat hits my muscles and I groan, loud enough that I'd be embarrassed if anyone were listening. The tension in my back and shoulders starts to dissolve, the cold-stiff knots in my calves letting go one by one. I settle against the molded seat, arms stretched along the rim, and tip my head back.
Steam. Pine. Cold air on my face, hot water on everything else.
