A slight smile tugged at her lips. “Most people don’t work in an ER. You learn to problem-solve under pressure.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here.” The words came out more honest than he’d intended, but he didn’t take them back. “The portable camp stove will work safely indoors. We can set up a cooking area near the fireplace.”
They worked in comfortable silence for a few minutes, falling into an easy rhythm. Nick handed her items; she arranged them.When their hands brushed over a water bottle, both of them paused.
Gina pulled back first. “So, how long have you been doing construction work?”
“Since I was sixteen. Used to pick up work from a neighbor. He told others about me, and I managed to turn it into a career.” He connected the camp stove’s fuel line. “Fourteen years of swinging hammers teaches you a lot.”
“What made you leave?”
Nick’s hands stilled. “Complications. The kind that make staying in one place...difficult.”
She didn’t push, just nodded like she understood about complications. “Well, their loss is our gain today. We’d be in rough shape without you.”
“Just glad I can help.”
“Brooke won’t want to come into the room. She’ll insist on staying in the hallway.”
He shook his head. His cousin was an odd duck sometimes, and today was definitely one of those times. The weird way she was about not wanting to stop the hike, and now insisting on the building being haunted. “What’s up with her?”
Gina stepped closer, close enough that her perfume—subtle and sweet—wrapped around him. The soft scent, mixed with her nearness, sent a jolt straight through him, quick andunexpected. And for a moment, the storm outside didn’t matter. He drew in a slow breath, trying to steady himself.
“We were up here a couple of years ago with a few friends,” she whispered. “We came into this building, and while we were inside, all the doors blew shut at the same time, making an awful racket.”
“Okay? Wind?”
“You’d think, but not that day. It was completely calm. She ran out. Our friends and I stayed inside, but—here’s the weird thing—all the doors were open when we checked them.”
“Wow,” he said, wondering exactly what could have caused the door-slamming noise.
“Yeah. The mistake we made was telling Brooke about the doors being open. She’d probably have been okay, thinking it had simply happened, but when we told her what we found, she freaked.”
He wasn’t really surprised. Brooke had always been hyper focused on things. He knew just the idea of the building being haunted would unnerve her, whether it was true or not, and Nick leaned heavily toward not. But Brooke wanted things a certain way, and if that way differed in the slightest, she didn’t handle it well.
Take her training plan. She didn’t like to deviate from the program she had in writing. Once it was set, as far as she was concerned, that was it. Rain or shine, even a blizzard, she would do what the day called for. He knew that Brooke’s focus was an asset as far as being a successful business owner, but it was sometimes a hindrance for her mental health.
He hoped she realized that the storm wouldn’t be an issue in the long run for her completing the Moose Range Run 100. What did a mile or two matter?
He continued to think about Brooke as he and Gina worked together naturally; she organized their food supplies while he sorted through his camping gear.
She had a systematic approach that spoke of experience managing logistics, either from her job or life experiences. One of Brooke’s friends had started the running group, but both Brooke and Gina played pivotal roles in the club. He’d heard enough about Gina from his cousin to know Gina often organized group runs and coordinated with other runners.
“You’ve done this before,” he observed, watching her create an efficient camp kitchen from their combined supplies.
“Group camping, mostly. Trail running trips where we end up staying overnight in remote areas.” She glanced at his setup. “You clearly have too.”
Nick felt heat creep up his neck. He shouldn’t be embarrassed about his housing situation, but he couldn’t help it. “I’ve been camping a lot lately. Since I’ve been between places.”
The words came out more defensively than he’d intended, and he saw something flicker across her face. Not judgment exactly, but a kind of careful evaluation that made him feel like he was being measured and found wanting.
“Between places,” she repeated neutrally.
“Yeah.” He focused on connecting the camp stove, not wanting to see whatever expression was on her face. “It’s temporary. I’m figuring things out.”
But even as he said it, Nick knew how it sounded. A year of couch surfing and living out of his SUV wasn’t “temporary” anymore; it was a lifestyle. And not the kind of lifestyle that inspired confidence in someone as put together as Gina clearly was.
Outside, the wind howled with increasing intensity, and the temperature inside the old hotel was dropping noticeably despite their body heat and the shelter of the walls.
