Chapter Two #2
The drive back to my house took only a few minutes, but the firelight from her windows stayed in my head longer than it should have.
Bear had shifted from the rug to the couch while I was gone, despite being fully aware that the couch was not his. My glove remained on the floor, abandoned now that it had stopped being interesting.
“You’ve had a productive evening,” I told him.
His tail hit the couch cushion twice without the rest of him moving.
I heated the stew and ate at the kitchen table while Bear eventually climbed down and settled across my feet. The house was quiet in the way I liked it: woodstove ticking, refrigerator humming, wind beginning to move through the trees outside.
Family photographs took up one end of the shelf beside the kitchen.
There were photos of my parents, my sister with her husband and three kids, and my brother in uniform the last time he’d been home.
They were close enough that I saw most of them regularly, even if my brother required more planning than the rest.
I’d never thought of staying here as failing to go somewhere else.
I liked the mountain and being close to my family. I knew the buildings I took care of well enough that a different sound in a pump or a sticking door told me something before it became expensive. I liked work that left a visible result at the end of the day.
Caprice hadn’t treated my work as small.
I finished my stew, put the bowl in the sink, and went to bed thinking about the way she had looked at me beside the fireplace.
***
By the time I started rounds the next morning, the western sky had disappeared behind a bank of low gray cloud.
The temperature had dropped overnight, and the updated forecast put snow later in the day with enough accumulation possible that we were doing the usual early preparation.
There was no emergency in it. Fire Mountain Resort had generators, plowed roads, backup systems, stocked rentals, and people who knew what winter looked like.
It was still easier to check everything before the first flake landed.
I had changed into a fresh dark thermal shirt under my work jacket, with canvas pants, gloves, and insulated boots. Bear rode with me for the upper rounds, his nose working overtime whenever I lowered the truck window near a service road.
I checked an exterior generator enclosure, walked two access paths, looked over the drainage around the highest rentals, and confirmed that the covered wood supplies were where they should be.
The frost was beginning to soften where weak morning sun reached through the clouds, but shaded ground remained white.
My phone rang while I was checking a railing two cabins down from Caprice.
“Good morning,” she said when I answered. “I have what I believe is our second legitimate problem. The rear door will close, but only if I put significantly more enthusiasm into it than a luxury rental door should require.”
I smiled and started back toward the truck. “Don’t keep forcing it. I’m already on Upper Ridge, so I can be there in a few minutes.”
“I only did it once. That was enough to establish that brute force was not improving the relationship.”
Bear shook himself beside me, collar tags ringing over the phone.
Caprice heard them. “Is Bear with you?”
“He is. I can leave him in the truck while I’m inside.”
“Bring him. I’ve decided to forgive him under close supervision.”
By the time I reached her cabin, Caprice was waiting at the front door in a cream knit sweater and dark trousers, with her hair smooth and her makeup light enough that I probably wouldn’t have noticed it if I hadn’t already spent too much time noticing her face.
She looked past me toward Bear.
“He may enter.”
Bear accepted the invitation immediately and walked inside without hesitation.
The breakfast tray on the dining table held the remains of eggs, toast, fruit, and coffee beside Caprice’s open laptop.
She had eaten enough that I didn’t have to wonder whether work had replaced breakfast entirely, but one piece of toast sat abandoned beside her notebook as if it had lost a scheduling dispute.
“The door is back here.”
She led me through the great room to the rear deck. The view had changed since the night before. Instead of black glass reflecting the room, the windows showed dark pines under a flat gray sky and a mountain ridge already disappearing into cloud.
I opened and closed the door a few times before finding the point where the latch met the frame.
“Nothing’s broken,” I said. “The cold shifted things just enough that the latch is catching high. See this bright mark along the top edge?”
Caprice came closer, bending slightly so she could follow where I pointed. “Now I see it. I stared at this for at least ten minutes and concluded only that the door hated me.”
“You were looking at the whole door. I knew where to look for the wear.”
“That explanation is much kinder than the one I had prepared for myself.”
I glanced at her, but she had already turned her attention back to the latch.
I took the cordless driver from my tool bag and loosened the plate enough to move it a fraction. Caprice stayed beside me, interested but wisely out of the path of the tool.
“Is that technically a drill?” she asked.
“It can drill. I’m using it as a driver because I’m turning screws.”
“So I was close enough for civilian purposes.”
“You were.”
“Excellent. My tool identification skills have doubled since yesterday.”
I laughed and went back to the latch.
After I tightened the plate, I opened and closed the door again. The latch slid home cleanly.
Caprice tried it herself, first slowly and then at normal speed. “That is ridiculously satisfying.”
“You can enjoy a door working properly. There’s no rule against it.”
“Good, because I’m having a surprisingly strong response to this.”
She opened it once more, and I stepped beside her to point out where the latch now met the center of the opening. Her shoulder came within an inch of my arm. Heat from the cabin moved through the thin space between us, carrying the faint clean scent of her sweater and skin.
My cock tightened behind my zipper before I could do anything useful about it.
I kept my attention on the door.