26. Chapter 26 #2
He accepts me. Which in lumberjack means…
“Did we just become besties?” I ask him.
His shoulders tense. “Fuck off, Benji.”
Yup. We’re friends.
I point my loppers at him. “When I fuck up—and I will, because that’s life, and Gina will hurt me too sometimes—I’ll stick around and make things right.”
Milo narrows his eyes at me. “You’re twenty-five.”
I shrug. “I’m ready for this relationship. I want it. Gina is everything to me.”
He’s still staring at me, and for a second, I wonder if Milo does have some deeply buried, not-exactly-platonic feelings for Gina. But his shoulders relax, and he goes back to work.
We’re finished by lunchtime. Milo takes his bike god-knows-where to do god-knows-what, and I take the four-wheeler to the lodge so I can see Gina.
The thought that I might catch her alone, away from Diana or any guests, puts a spring in my step as I round a sedan parked close to the steps leading up to the—
Wait a sec.
I backtrack. The license plate features a blue sky and a mountain range, Home Means Nevada across the bottom.
It’s probably a family on vacation—nothing to do with me or the engagement ring.
Except there are no toys, empty chip bags, or candy wrappers in the backseat.
So they’re a retired couple who honeymooned here and are back to celebrate their forty or fiftieth anniversary.
Or it’s a mob boss holding Gina at gunpoint, demanding his ring back.
Shit.
A herd of children comes flying out of nowhere, nearly mowing me down on the wooden steps.
Before I can shout after them to slow down or maybe not fling themselves into a hostage situation, they’re already through the door.
So I move fast, ducking through the door before it swings shut, crouching low and diving into a roll to hide behind the shelves full of souvenirs.
Maybe dancing has prepared me for some Mission Impossible spy moves because I do it easily. It probably looked pretty cool, too.
But no, I go viral getting duck-ed.
Slowly, I peek over the top shelf.
Gina’s at the reception desk, smiling and handing over a cabin key to two men.
So no hostage situation. I can’t tell if they’re the same men I saw at the show the night of the shooting.
The stage lights were too bright for me to see distinct features.
The business casual clothes on the two feel out of place, but nothing suggests they’re anything other than two men on vacation.
I breathe out a sigh of relief and sink to my knees.
The kids keep up a steady stream of chatter, making eavesdropping hard but not impossible.
“That’s a pretty engagement ring,” one of the men says to Gina. “When’s the big day?”
“Oh.” Gina sounds caught off guard. “Thanks. It’s Tuesday, actually.”
“Congratulations,” the first man says.
“Do you get many people coming here from Vegas?” The second man sounds distracted, and I imagine him flipping through the guestbook on the desk, looking for one Benji Dwyer.
“Some,” Gina answers, sounding distracted.
Is that an odd question? Probably not. It’s one most people traveling from more than two states away might ask.
The herd of middle schoolers is too noisy for me to catch the rest of the conversation, but the two men walk with a heavy tread, and I slip around the endcap when they walk out.
I don’t think they spotted me, but I stay crouched until they drive away and the kids, armed with their sugar fix, stampede back out the door. Then I stand.
Gina yelps, pressing her hand to her heart at my sudden appearance.
“Sorry,” I say sheepishly, walking up to sit on the desk.
“You scared the crap out of me. What were you doing?”
“Tying my shoe. Anything interesting happen today?” Like random men from Vegas asking about me or that engagement ring?
I don’t say that. Gina has enough on her plate with the wedding on Tuesday and the plan to make sure she doesn’t gain a second husband.
These guys might be on vacation. I don’t want her to worry when it’s probably nothing.
Gina shrugs. “Pamela and Joelle came in for coffee about an hour ago, extremely hung over. You?”
It’s my turn to shrug. “Milo’s my friend now.”
“He is?” Gina asks, her eyebrows quirking.
“Yup.” I grin and grab her hand, bringing it to my lips to kiss the backs of her fingers. “He said he’d put my body in a bog if I ever hurt you.”
Gina laughs. “How does that mean you’re friends now?”
I tug her closer, and since we’re alone, I capture her lips for a quick kiss. “He accepts me. It’s a guy thing. I can’t explain it.”
“Because it’s inexplicable,” she murmurs, her hands slipping into my hair.
Maybe one more kiss.
Quick footsteps on the deck make us spring apart, and I slip off the desk as the screen door slides open.
It’s Diana. It’s always fucking Diana.
I need an excuse to be here, so I grab the sandwich wrapped in brown paper next to the computer and tip it toward Gina. “Thanks for lunch,” I call, moving quickly for the door. Gina’s eyes narrow on her sandwich.
I’ll bring it back, I mouth behind my hand when Diana turns away, and then I duck out the door.