His house was sturdy looking, built of logs, and a thin trail of smoke rose from the chimney, an etching against the too-blue sky.
He pulled up alongside the detached garage, shut the snowmobile off again and stood. He did that so gracefully, like a cowboy getting off a horse.
This time, when he offered his hand, Brynne ignored it.
She was feeling fitful. Flustered.
And the last thing in the universe she wanted was for Eli Garrett to see that he’d gotten under her skin.
Poor phrasing, she thought, with another hard blush.
Reckless in her disgruntled state, Brynne swung one leg over the long padded seat and went to stand, only to topple forward and land on her hands and knees in the deep snow.
Unlike before, Eli didn’t catch her.
He laughed, crouched and looked into her snow-splattered face with dancing eyes. “Good one,” he said.
“Shut up,” Brynne said in response, struggling to get up.
Eli laughed again. “Are you really this independent, or just stubborn?”
Brynne’s high dudgeon dipped low, all of a sudden, and she laughed, too. “Both, I think,” she admitted.
The dog she’d ostensibly come to meet was yipping joyfully on the other side of a cyclone fence, wearing a track in the snow as he dashed six feet in one direction, then six feet in the other.
“That’s Festus,” Eli said, standing and unceremoniously pulling Brynne up after him. “Festus, meet Brynne Bailey.”
Brynne stood, trying to brush snow off her flannel-lined jeans and the front of her warmest jacket. “Hello, there,” she greeted the dog. Approaching the fence, she put out a hand for him to sniff. “I own a really bossy cat, but I hope you and I can be friends anyway.”
Festus gave a gleeful yip and wagged his tail frantically as Eli opened the gate and stepped back to let Brynne precede him.
Reaching the back porch, they kicked the snow off their boots, and then they were inside, in a small but well-designed kitchen, streaked with bars of sunshine from the windows and skylights.
“Nice,” Brynne said.
Eli acknowledged the one-word compliment with an equally brief nod. “I’ll build up the fire and make some coffee. You’ll be warm in no time.”
She was already warm, despite spending at least an hour in the freezing cold, buffeted by icy winds. The echo of Eli’s body still pulsed along the length of her arms and the inside of her thighs; it was a wonder she wasn’t sweating like a wrestler under hot lights.
“I’m fine,” she said nervously. “Really.”
Eli started toward the next room, paused as he passed her and spoke gently. “Relax, Brynne. I didn’t bring you here for any reason other than to warm up before I drive you back to town in my truck.”
Brynne averted her eyes, bit her lower lip.
She was relieved.
She was disappointed.
When Eli moved on and busied himself stoking the embers in the living room’s Franklin stove, she took off her jacket, draped it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs and leaned down to pet Festus.
“I think I’m in love,” she murmured, gazing into adoring canine eyes.
She thought Eli was out of earshot; turned out, he wasn’t.
“I know I’m hot,” he teased, “but isn’t it a little soon?”
Brynne laughed, in spite of, or maybe because of, her jittering nerves. “Egomaniac,” she replied. “I was talking to your dog.”
“Damn,” Eli replied, moving to the sink, where he rinsed out and then filled the carafe from his coffee maker. “Decaf or high-octane?”
“You drink decaf?”
“No,” came the answer. “I was counting on you to ask for regular.”
“Do you ever say anything serious?” Brynne inquired.
He paused, turned to look at her. They were half a room apart, but something invisible arced between them.
“How about this? I’m sorry I treated you the way I did, back in the day. I was a kid, but that’s no excuse. It was wrong, and I regret it.”
For a few long moments, Brynne couldn’t speak. When she did, all she managed was a lame, “It’s okay.”
Eli filled the carafe with water, filled the plastic tank on the coffee machine, and set it on the burner beneath to catch the fragrant brew.
“It wasn’t, though,” he replied quietly. “It isn’t. You were way out of Reba’s league, and you deserved a lot better than the treatment you got from me.”
“Eli.” Brynne spoke softly. “I’m over all that. It was all so long ago, and besides, Reba was a force of nature. She was way more experienced than I was—more outgoing, more everything. And you weren’t the only guy to fall for her, remember?”
He sighed, approached the table, pulled back a chair for Brynne and waited until she sat down. With a rueful sigh, he answered, “Oh, yeah. I remember. She’d gotten to my best friends, too. Made fools of the three of us.” He grinned, a little sadly. “Not that we didn’t deserve exactly what we got.”
Eli drew back a chair of his own, sat across from Brynne.
He seemed to be keeping his distance, and though he was probably just exhibiting good manners, Brynne would have liked to sit closer to him, risky as that might be.
“What do you want me to say?” Brynne asked, not unkindly, but out of genuine concern.
The coffee began to bubble and steam, filling the room with the corresponding aromas. Festus sat beside Brynne’s chair, resting his muzzle on her knee and watching her with unconditional adoration.
She smiled, relaxing a little, and ruffled the dog’s ears.
“I want you to say you accept my apology,” Eli said.
“I think I already did, when we had this discussion yesterday, in the café.”
“You were pretty busy making it clear that you don’t date cops.”
Brynne drew a deep breath, released it slowly. “It might be more accurate to say I don’t want to get serious about one.”
“Been there, done that. Right?”
“Right.”
“It was that bad?”
Brynne sighed. “Not always. There were good parts—like his children, Davey and Maddie. I miss them every day of my life.”
Eli merely nodded, pushed back his chair and went to the counter to fill two mugs with coffee. “Do you use sugar or cream?”