The hands-in-pockets stance did illicit things to the front of his jeans and left her feeling a bit oxygen deprived. God, he really was a strapping mountain of manliness, standing there a little awkwardly, with his hair falling over his forehead and his beard not quite hiding his chagrin. She braced her shoulder against the wall by the door and found a smile for him. “You’re the client. I’m here to make this diligence effort as efficient and painless as possible. Trust me, I take that duty to heart.”
He walked to the door but stopped in front of her, looked down at her with a brow arched. “I do trust you, Isabelle. Key?”
“What about him?”
For some reason she couldn’t fathom, that made him smile. Holding her gaze with his unexpectedly compassionate one, he dipped his fingers into her suit pocket and pulled out the keycard she’d stashed there. “I’ll be back in a few.”
Before she could so much as swallow, he eased away, turned, and walked out the door.
Chapter Four
When Trace returned to the lobby, Lilah manned the reception desk. She looked up as he approached. “Hi.” She offered a smile to go with the greeting, but it was nothing more than a rote flex of facial muscles. Those soft, green eyes looked sad, but maybe that was him, projecting. They also looked worried, which he thought might be all her. “Is everything okay with the room?”
“Everything’s great,” he assured her, hoping to erase the worry. Isabelle had a problem she declined to share with him, but Lilah didn’t need to know about that.
“Good.” Her smile faded, but the worry remained. “What can we do for you?”
“I’m on my way down to the garage. I forgot something in my car. But before I head down there, I was hoping to check on Key and make sure he’s all good to bed down in a kennel tonight.”
Her smile returned, a testament to her fondness for the dog. “We always have room for Key.” She unlatched the half-door and held it open. “Do you want to go back and say goodnight to him?”
“You read my mind.”
She tipped her head. “Come on through.” As he did, she went on, “Last time I looked in on our four-legged guests, he and Sheba were having the time of their lives playing keep-away with a Kong ball and beagle pup named Oliver.”
Key loved all things—except squirrels—but Sheba and Key weighed over three hundred pounds, between them. That added up to a lot of dog against one small puppy. He paused on his way back to the kennels. “Is that a good idea?”
She laughed. “It’s fine. They’re very careful.” Just as quickly as it came, her amusement subsided. She faced him, sort of squared her shoulders, swallowed hard, and fixed him with an uncharacteristically serious stare. “Trace, do you have a sec to—?”
“Lilah?” Rose rounded the registration desk. “Have you taken your dinner break yet?”
“No. Not yet, Tlaa’. I was just about to.” She turned to Trace, who still hovered in the hallway, and shook her head. “Never mind. It’s nothing. Enjoy your visit with Key, and please let us know if you need anything else.”
“Will do,” he said, and watched her hurry off with her mom. Did Lilah want to learn to fly? They offered lessons at the airfield, and her interest had surfaced several years ago, but Rose hadn’t been a fan of the idea, so nothing had come of it.
Curiosity accompanied him into the kennel, but the jubilant canine chaos that greeted him there quickly drove all other distractions from his mind. Instead, he focused on holding his own against an enthusiastic full-body greeting from a well-fed St. Bernard. “Hi, Sheba. Hey girl.” He staggered a bit as her front paws landed on his chest. Scratching her sides vigorously, the way he knew she liked, he asked, “Who’s taking care of Key? Are you taking care of Key?”
Affirmative barks as low and loud as a bear call battered his eardrums. “Good girl. You’re a good girl, Sheba. Okay. Sit. Sit. Lemme say goodnight to Key.”
With the obedience of an animal that didn’t have the power to flatten a grown man with one bounding leap, she sat, tongue lolling, her big mouth open in a yawn.
“Hey, Key.” Trace patted his thigh as the husky approached to claim his good night rubdown. He nosed a small beagle over with him.
“Yep. He is really cute.” Unable to help himself, Trace knelt and scratched the little brown, white, and black puppy between his floppy ears.
Key leaned down to pick the puppy up in his mouth by the little guy’s scruff.
Trace intercepted and shook his head. “No, buddy, he’s not yours. You can play with him tonight, but we can’t keep him.”
Key sent a short bark of objection toward the ceiling.
The puppy investigated his hand, snuffling his velvety white jowls over Trace’s knuckles. He fingered the tag on the beagle’s collar. “See? He already has a daddy.”
As soon as the word left his lips, he winced. “Or a mommy,” he quickly added, hoping to distract Key with a less familiar term. But no. Key threw back his head and howled. A long, loud, lonely cry that lengthened at the end into a distinctly high-pitched, “Aye.” It flayed Trace’s heart open.
Shay.
“Hey, now.” He shifted to sit on the cool linoleum tile floor and wrapped an arm around Key’s neck. “I know.” He pressed his face against the dog’s neck. “I know. I miss him, too.”
Key whined, once, from his throat. Trace raised his head, a little embarrassed to find himself fighting tears. “It’s normal to miss him.”
The dog headbutted Trace’s shoulder.
“That doesn’t mean you can’t have fun with Sheba, right?”
“Arf!”
“And with your new friend, Oliver.”
“Awoo!”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” He held out his fist. Key bumped it with his paw.
“Good dog.”
Being an affable creature at heart, Key rebounded from feelings of loss brought on by memories of Shay faster than Trace. Even now, almost four months later, sometimes the pain of loss landed on him just as cold and crushing as it had that day last November, when he’d learned his younger brother had gotten turned around in the fog on a cargo run from Anchorage and crashed into one of the formidable peaks of the Chilkat range.
Did that cold, crushing pain account for the dreams—nightmares, visions, whatever—he’d had since, where Shay appeared to him so lifelike and vibrant, looking for all the world like he wanted to share a secret? Or was the heavy weight of guilt the reason Shay haunted him?