揧ou got a boyfriend??Wyatt asks, reloading his cup with more coffee.
Dakota looks at me just as I swallow.
She doesn抰 say anything, but her eyes are bright. Nervous.
They make me wonder why.
揥yatt, she抯 out of your league,?I say numbly. 揝tick to girls who like to garden and can put up with your shit.?
Wyatt chuckles and gulps his coffee. 揜elax. I wasn抰 asking for myself.?
揥yatt.?The look I throw his way could flay him open.
He holds a hand up.
揌ey, no harm, no foul. Just askin??He looks at Dakota. 揧ou want a story before I hit the hay? Oh five hundred will be here soon enough.?
揥hen was the last time you were up at oh five hundred??I ask.
揟omorrow. Busy day.?
I stare at him, glowering, wondering what sort of story he抯 about to tell.
揌ell if I know, Burns. But your girl doesn抰 want to hang out all night in front of my tent, so take her home after this.?He stops and takes a deep breath, holding his hands in front of the fire like the drama queen he is. 揙kay. So, I moved around a lot as a kid, and I lived a year or two in this little mountain town called Heart抯 Edge. They had this spooky old mine everybody always said was haunted, so one time me and my friends went exploring, not knowing these weird military contractor guys were setting up shop棓
揝he抯 not my girl梜eep your facts straight,?I interject. 揟hat goes for your damn ghost story, too.?
揑抦 really not,?Dakota adds with a glassy look. 揑 just work for him.?
She rips her eyes away from me.
Damn. Why does she look hurt?
揃ut you aren抰 working now and you抮e having a good time. You laugh a lot and you smile real pretty,?Wyatt tells her, always the charmer.
She doesn抰 deny it, just gives back a friendly smile.
揥here are your friends, anyway? If you抮e not his girl, you must have more fun with them than your worn-out old boss who can抰 handle his tail being pulled.?Wyatt gives me a shameless grin.
I抦 so close to decking him square in the face tonight.
So close.
Dakota shrugs. 揈h, I haven抰 been here that long. I抳e kept my head down, mostly. Eliza抯 really the only new friend I抳e made.?
揥here you from??Wyatt asks.
揇allas, North Dakota,?I answer for her. 揙dd little place that抯 barely on the map like your mountain town. They抳e got a lot of oil, movie stars settling down, and even the occasional tiger.?
揝o you were listening when I told you about it.?Dakota looks at me and smiles, raising her brow.
I snort, but wonder if I抦 digging my hole deeper. She shouldn抰 look so impressed that I listen to her.
揌ow long have you been here??Wyatt asks, a question I don抰 know the answer to.
揂bout eight months come June,?she answers.
揧ou should have made more than one friend by now,?I say, sipping my coffee. 揥hat, no poet groups worth their salt around here??
揑抦 a working writer. You抎 be surprised how hard it is to relate to the self-appointed starving artists who relish their part-time jobs and rolling out of bed at noon every day to hack at a few words. Also, I really like the girls I work with, but I haven抰 been at Haughty But Nice long enough to socialize a ton. At my old job, no one really talked to anyone. And if they did, it was because they were trying to cut you down. A real crab-in-bucket place. I like Anna and Cheryl but we work a lot. There isn抰 much time to hang out.?
I nod at her, feeling a twist of guilt because I抦 the reason she doesn抰 have the free time to socialize.
揧et you have time to stalk the boss,?I say, trying to brush it off.
揝omeone has to keep you in line and Wyatt抯 a busy guy,?she says with a nod at my friend.
Damn her, I laugh.
揧eah, speaking of busy, I was just getting to the good part so pipe down and listen,?Wyatt says, shifting back into full bard-mode. With his wide eyes and grizzled beard, he certainly fits the part. 揝o everybody had stories about the mine, especially this cool old lady who owned the inn, Miss Wilma…？
We listen as Wyatt drones on about getting pumped up on local legends and pushed into mischief by his friends. It won him a close encounter with a mountain lion who decided to settle into that old mine and came flying out after him when one of those late-night contractors started running a jackhammer somewhere deep in the old mine.
All this time on the street may have made him more dramatic, but I抳e got to admit, it抯 hard not to wrap a protective arm around Dakota by the time he抯 wrapping up.
I also know there抯 a darker edge to his story.
That Sweeter Grind place was founded by a couple sisters from Heart抯 Edge, and their locations have partly taken off thanks to the notoriety of that little town抯 craziness in the national press.
揕inc, you disappoint me,?Wyatt says. 揥ith Dakota being new and all, why don抰 you take her for a ride in that fancy car and show her around? Like I said, I抳e gotta hit the hay. Oh five hundred and all.?He stands and lumbers back to his tent.
I watch him unzip the flap, crawl inside, and zip it back up, blotting out the world.
Don抰 get me wrong.
I wouldn抰 ever wish for Wyatt抯 anguish, but there are times when I envy him for being able to disappear at the flick of a zipper.
Also, I make a mental note to kick his ass for egging on Dakota the next time I visit.
揘ow that you抳e had your ghost story, guess that抯 our cue to go,?I say.
揧our friend has a knack for storytelling. He sucked me right in. Umm梬hat should we do with the cups??
揧ou have any coffee left??
She nods and hands me a lukewarm cup that抯 still half full.
I gulp it down梠ne more caffeine hit for the road never hurt梐nd stack her cup inside mine.
揑t抯 dark, so stay close,?I say, reaching for her hand.
It抯 raw instinct. I抦 not sure how she抣l respond.
She laces her fingers through mine, twining our hands together with a tightness that surprises me.
揧ou know what I hate about you stalking me??I ask as we walk through the cool, oddly quiet night.
揥hat??she clips, already over my crap.
揧ou had fun so you抣l keep doing it,?I say with deadpan delivery.
揙h my God! Stop. I am not stalking you. I don抰 stalk anyone, especially not you. I wouldn抰 even stalk you if we had a zombie apocalypse and you were the only person left alive who I could trust not to eat my face.?She makes a frustrated sound. 揋et over yourself. I just wanted to see what you were doing with the flowers…？
揑 gave them to a homeless person just like I said, didn抰 I? And I still haven抰 acquired a taste for human faces. Sorry, that抯 a deal breaker,?I tell her, fighting back a smirk.
揧ou抮e so dumb sometimes.?
I lash her with a look. 揂nd you could learn to take a joke, Miss Tight-ass. I抦 in charge of a forty-year-old fashion powerhouse and I still ham it up.?
揙h, what-the-hell-ever,?she whispers. 揧ou did surprise me playing matchmaker. Who knew??
She抯 right. It is out of character, but I couldn抰 resist.
Besides, Wyatt got even without knowing what I did, so I抎 say winning him a little attention from something that isn抰 a cinnamon roll is fair game.
揇id you have fun, Nevermore??I ask her more seriously.
揧es! Thanks for letting me hang out. You could抳e just run me off.?
揚urely for Wyatt抯 sake. The company is good for him,?I tell her, frowning because I抦 barely a better liar than she is. 揑t抯 still early. Should I show you around Seattle or have you seen most of it already??
For a moment, she hesitates, looking at me like she wonders if I抦 setting her up for another kiss neither of us can bear mentioning.