Denver crouched beside the chair, one hand automatically petting Bailey, the other with his fingers over her pulse. That was the other thing about Denver. He could be all business, but he never failed to recognize the animals around him. He might hunt and fish, but he ate what he killed.
“I didn’t make you lose your fishing pole, did I?” Stella tilted back her head to look up at him. “And you don’t happen to have any coffee, do you? I’m sure I was a little faint from lack of caffeine. I really need to put it directly into my veins.”
“I wasn’t about to lose my favorite fishing pole,” he said, standing and ruffling her hair as if she were five. “You drink far too much caffeine and I’m not sure I should contribute to your addiction.”
“I get grumpy without caffeine, Denver. Even Bailey doesn’t like me.” She didn’t want him thinking too much about her panic attack or asking her questions. He would too. Unlike Sam, who had no problem with long silences and rarely asked questions, Denver would get all up in her business. He never seemed to see the barriers she put up, but then he didn’t see them with others either. She was certain he was somewhere on the spectrum— a brilliant man with autism, most likely Asperger’s, although clearly he was extremely high functioning.
He flashed her a grin and jogged over to the gray-and-green truck. Stella watched him go, a little frown on her face. His body was all muscle, much like many of the men who lived and worked in the area. They were climbers, outdoorsmen, backpackers and skiers, and they kept in shape out of necessity for what they loved to do. Denver had a great body. Very muscular. She’d noticed that before, but for some reason, the way he was moving, it was very apparent to her all over again. Still, even built as he was, that wouldn’t keep him safe from a killer lurking beneath the lake’s surface.
She scrubbed her palm down her face, trying to think. Could she ask the two men not to go fishing for a few days because she’d had a bad dream? That would make her sound like a lunatic. How could she protect her friends? Her mind raced and her stomach churned. Bailey pushed against her. Her dog always knew when she was upset.
Denver was back with a mug of coffee and another camp chair under his arm. “I stole Bruce’s chair. I’m not even certain he knows you’re here. When he’s fishing, I think a bomb could go off and he wouldn’t know it.”
She wrapped her hands around the warmth of the coffee mug. There was a moose with wide antlers on the mug. “It’s a beautiful morning, isn’t it?”
Denver glanced up at the sky and then his gaze moved slowly over the lake. “Yeah. Nothing like it anywhere else, Stella.”
She smiled at him. “That’s exactly how I feel.” She put her head back and closed her eyes for a moment. “Denver, it’s been eighteen months since you lost Suzy. Why haven’t you gotten another dog? You’ve always had a dog.” The silence stretched for so long she was afraid she’d offended him. She opened her eyes to look at him.
Denver was staring out over the lake, his expression a little lost. That was another thing about him. She could never read Sam, but Denver was an open book. If he was angry, you knew it. If he was sad, it was right there on his face. He didn’t bother to mislead you. If he didn’t like you, he made it known. There was no bullshit with Denver. He didn’t yell, that wasn’t his style, he just looked at whoever was being an ass with utter contempt and then walked away, or he dropped them with one punch and then walked away. He had a bit of a reputation, so most drunks in the bar left him alone.
“I’m sorry, Denver.” Stella put her hand on his arm to comfort him. “I shouldn’t have asked. Bailey and Suzy were such good friends. When I let him out of the car, I half expected to see her rushing up to greet us. When she didn’t, I wondered why you hadn’t gotten another dog, but I should have left it alone.”
Denver shrugged, a roll of his shoulders. “I think about it all the time. It’s just that I had her from the time she was a puppy. I liked that. Now, I’m so busy. I go back and forth on how fair it would be to have a puppy with me. I could take her everywhere but the hospital, but if I’m there a lot, she’d be lonely. I don’t like the thought of her sitting alone in a crate all day.”
Stella nodded her head in understanding. Bailey, the shameless attention-seeking hound, pushed his way between the two chairs, determined that both humans should pet and scratch him. Stella started laughing. “He’s awful and you’re just encouraging him.” Denver was already scratching ears and chest, two of the Airedale’s favorite spots.
Denver grinned at her. “He deserves all the attention he can get for putting up with you, Stella. Why are you dragging him around the lake, especially when you haven’t had your morning quota of caffeine?”
Without hesitation, Stella gestured toward the lake. “Do you even see what I do? Take a look, Denver. Try painting that. It’s not even possible.” She let frustration edge her voice. Who said she wasn’t an actress when she had to be? She’d learned to be an actress, hanging on to her smile around all the fishermen who were so disrespectful when she’d first taken over managing the resort. “Sometimes I observe the lake from different angles to try to get a better idea of colors. The shimmer. It changes all the time.” That was true. She did drive around the lake, but more because the beauty of nature was inspiring to her.
Denver regarded her for so long in silence she felt herself blushing for no reason, other than the look of admiration on his face. “I learn something new about you all the time, Stella. I had no idea you painted.”
“Badly. I’m no artist, which is why I don’t tell anyone,” Stella said. She took another cautious sip of the coffee. It was really bad coffee. “Who made this?”
Denver laughed. He had a rich, warm laugh that invited others to laugh with him. “Bruce. I told him never to offer to make coffee for Zahra. He was highly offended.”
“If I wasn’t so desperate for caffeine, I would spit it out, but I can’t afford to waste the gift from the gods.”
Denver spewed his caffeine out onto the ground. “You’re even more insane than I thought you were.”
She waved her free hand airily while clutching the mug with the other. “Sadly, it’s true, but I don’t mind. How often do you two come out here?”
Denver shrugged. “Not as often as we’d like. Bruce is busy all the time now, thanks to you and your scheming. Our laid-back hunt-and-fish days are over.”
“I’m not buying it, Denver. You’re a workaholic.”
She studied the layout of the lake’s edge carefully, committing it to memory. The weeping trees. Were they the same? Did she recognize them? What about the rocks jutting out of the water? Her gaze jumped to Bruce. He had waded farther out from shore just like the fisherman in her nightmare. She could see he wore waders. The reeds and plants looked the same, but then the flora was close to being the same on this side of the lake.
“You’re going to spill your coffee, Stella,” Denver pointed out, his tone mild. He reached out and took the mug from her. “Why are you staring at Bruce like that?”
“I was imagining what it must be like to be a fish.” She had to improvise fast. “One minute, swimming along peacefully, looking for a meal, and then the next, some asshole sends a hook down and jabs you in the throat with it. Now you’re fighting for your life. If you have a nice little fish family, you’re never going to see them again. Bruce looks like a nice enough guy, but under all that niceness lurks an evil fish killer. I have to warn Zahra.”