Chapter Three #2
There wasn’t room in there for this. She’d have to demo, rewire and reimagine everything.
Everything she and Nick were and ever had been to each other.
No, she thought. That wasn’t right. That wasn’t what either of them wanted. Their friendship had been the touchstone that had kept her life in order. It made her world make sense. She knew it was that way for him, too.
Nick lowered to his seat.
Standing over them, Tony clasped his hands behind his back. “Menus?”
“Bring us each a plate of hot wings with a side of your Whoa Daddy sauce,” Nick said readily.
“And loaded crinkle fries,” Sassy added. “Don’t forget the ranch.” Then she dug a one-hundred-dollar bill from her purse and extended it to him. “For opening the doors for us after hours.” She threw in a saucy wink for free.
Tony took the edge of the Benjamin between his first and middle fingers contemplatively. “You two want bibs with that?”
“Ha,” Sassy tossed back. Then she thought about it, eyeing Nick’s retro T-shirt—his favorite—and glancing down at the pretty square-neckline blouse with floral print and balloon sleeves she’d recently splurged on at Wagon Wheel, the pricey new boutique downtown.
She changed her mind, sobering. “Yes, please.”
“I’ll get right on that,” Tony said before turning for the kitchen.
Sassy caught the faces pressed against the small round window in the kitchen door. They scattered as Tony crossed the room. She leaned toward Nick. “I don’t think he was the only one who stayed late to cook for us.”
The light in Nick’s eyes wasn’t something she’d miss for the world.
He’d been spread so thin before the camping trip, working too many shifts, too many long nights and spending most of his free time with his mother at the medical facility where he’d secured a place for her.
Over Christmas, he’d moved into an apartment complex across the street from it so he could be as close to her as possible.
According to her doctors, Margot’s Alzheimer’s disease had taken a turn. Nick wasn’t willing to take any chances if she needed him at a moment’s notice.
He looked thinner than he had five days earlier.
The structure of his face appeared more rugged.
After hours under the harsh Utah sun, the mesas of his cheeks were stained red, bringing stony canyon walls to mind.
His cheekbones were now fine-cut, shadows living in the slight hollows underneath them.
She should be the one sending him reminders for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Eat your Wheaties, Malone… Don’t skimp on the carbs… The bakery’s gone BOGO on doughnuts. Treat yo’self!
She eyed the hand he’d placed on the table. The urge to cover it with her own gnawed at her. He cared so much about others. Not enough about himself.
Thank God she’d gone looking for him and Riot in Dark Canyon Wilderness. Would he have really radioed for help if he had needed it? Or would he have convinced himself that park rangers had more important things to do than get him through the last leg of his journey back to the trailhead?
Her pulse picked up because she wasn’t sure. The thought of his star fading out burned like acid in her throat. The bridge of her nose prickled, as it often did at the onset of tears, and she did reach for him.
His eyes skimmed up to meet hers. They looked almost golden in the light from the kitchen window—tawny lion eyes.
There was so much she wanted to say, too much building up inside her. She settled for “I’m glad you’re back.”
His smile was soft. His hand flipped underneath hers to clutch her fingers. Despite the cold outside, his skin warmed hers. “Me, too.”
Maybe one day he wouldn’t hike alone. Maybe one day he’d take someone with him…
like her. She wasn’t the best hiker. She’d spent nights out in the elements, but she’d never pitched her own tent.
She’d had to borrow Sabrina’s hiking boots because she didn’t have a decent pair of her own.
Though how could she say no to sleeping under the stars or spending days in isolation exploring Dark Canyon Wilderness with the person she felt closest to?
Nick carefully let go of her hand. He gripped the table’s edge. “You got a security warning from the gallery?”
“What?” It took a moment for her thoughts to reset. She shook her head to clear it. “Oh. Yeah.”
“Anything I need to know about?”
She could tell him how she’d sped across town in the middle of the night to catch two raccoons in a dumpster raid.
She thought of the bar rod she’d found outside the back door to Zephyr Gallery with its unidentified skull brand.
More than likely, it meant nothing. “It was just wildlife doing their thing.”
He frowned. “I set the alarm for a breach at the back door, not motion in the parking lot.”
“It was nothing,” she assured him. “The door was locked. I checked the gallery floor and the office upstairs. There was no sign of an intruder.”
“You checked it out yourself?”
His voice had darkened. So had his eyes. She sighed because she recognized this part of him, too. She saw it all too often with her male cousins. Because she didn’t have brothers of her own, they all felt obligated to protect her. “It was nothing,” she repeated, slower this time.
“You didn’t call anyone?”
“I called Ryan,” she informed him. “He was on a callout so he couldn’t answer. He checked in the next morning to make sure everything was all right.”
“You could’ve called Noah,” he pointed out. “Or Jacob. Your dad or Chay.”
“Nick,” she said, raising her voice slightly. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Nothing actually happened. I told you. It was a glitch.”
He lifted his chin, arms crossed over his chest as he studied her. “Next time, call somebody else.”
She checked the urge to roll her eyes. Her sarcasm was harder to curb. “Yeah, you never know when those raccoons are ready to throw down against someone four times their size.”
“It could’ve been a black bear,” he pointed out. “They’ve been seen around town recently.”
“Sure,” she said, unwilling to engage in this debate with him any longer.
He thrust his pinkie finger toward her. “Pinkie swear you’ll call someone until you get an answer next time.”
Now she did roll her eyes, but offered her pinkie anyway and twined it around his. “Okay, Nick. I pinkie swear I’ll drag someone out of bed to spy on trash pandas with me.”
He shook it, binding her to the pledge. “Weird things have been happening around Dark Canyon over the last few months. People have started locking their doors for the first time in years. This may no longer be the safe environment we’ve counted on all our lives.”
She knew that—had thought of that herself. “I’ll call,” she promised.
He drew in a relieved breath and slowly funneled it out through his nose. “Good.”
The door to the kitchen swung open, and Tony appeared carrying a tray over his shoulder.
The smell of barbecue walked with him. “All right,” he said, dragging a foldout from the corner.
He shook it until the legs extended and set it and the tray down.
“One mega-size wing platter,” he said, setting the basket in the center of their table.
“Side of fries. Extra sauce and ranch dressing. And two large Cokes to wash it all down.”
Nick rubbed his hands together as he surveyed the feast. “We’re going to need extra napkins.”
“Thank you,” Sassy said as she dug into the wing basket without preamble. “You’re the best.”
“I am,” Tony agreed, picking up the tray, removing the foldout and flipping the cleaning rag he carried over his shoulder. “You two are the Sauce Spot’s best customers. You’ve talked this place up so much, I owe most of my regulars to you. Just do me a favor.”
“Anything,” Nick agreed.
“Show up before closing next time,” he requested.
“No promises,” Sassy tossed back playfully.
Tony eyed her with something like wariness. “Be nice, Colton, or I won’t bring you those napkins. I can’t get better advertising than you two walking around Dark Canyon with Whoa Daddy sauce all over you.”
“She’s been warned,” Nick stated, his mouth full. “Thanks, Tony. Really. This is amazing.”
Tony clapped him on the shoulder. “Happy birthday, big dog.”