He got up.
“Need any help?”
“Nope. But you can come hang out with me while I cook.”
He put on a shirt, and I followed him downstairs.
He had a pot of coffee on the kitchenette. “Mind if I have some of this?” I asked, already grabbing a mug.
“I can make you a fresh one.”
“No, this is fine,” I said, pouring it. “I got used to old coffee during my residency. Now I kind of like it. Reminds me of the little bit of downtime I used to get.”
He watched me take a sip. “No cream? No sugar?”
“No.”
He shook his head. “How can you drink that?”
“It’s coffee. You’re supposed to taste it. You can’t taste it with cream and sugar in it.”
He looked at me dubiously. “That’s like saying you can’t taste your eggs because you add salt and pepper.” He took my mug from my hand and put it to his mouth. He winced, handing it back to me. “This tastes like a burned tire.”
I laughed.
He looked amused. “I guess this proves strong coffee doesn’t put hair on your chest. Actually, maybe I should get a closer look.” He pulled the front of my dress open with a finger and I laughed, swatting him away.
It was amazing how good I felt. Like I’d had a full body and mind reset. And I didn’t think it was only because of the sex either. I was happy to be here.
Come to think of it, I’d felt like this last night after we’d hung up too. I’d slept better than I had in months.
Daniel was a vacation for me, I realized—like a break from my own brain or the reality of my current crappy situation. And we had that easy flowing conversation that you so rarely find with someone. I had it with Derek and Bri, but I’d never had it with Neil. With Neil, I always felt like I needed to say something important or smart for it to be worth bringing up. We spent a lot of quiet meals together.
At the time, I thought this meant we were good with comfortable silence. But now I realized it meant something else. Some strange, stiff, unnatural dynamic that I’d dealt with for so long, I didn’t know it wasn’t normal. It wasn’t a comfortable silence, it was just…silence.
I started wandering the garage looking around while Daniel rummaged in a fridge. Hunter walked with me, pushing his head under my hand until I resorted to walking with a palm between his ears.
I saw the headboard Daniel had been working on last night. It was propped to dry. He had chairs hanging from the walls in various stages of completion. A dresser set and a pair of nightstands sat by the garage door.
He had a stack of books on a stool by his workbench. I picked up the top one. The Circus Fire.
Daniel looked over at me. “That’s a good one. Have you read it?”
I shook my head at the cover. “No.”
“It’s about the deadly Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus fire of 1944. You’d probably really like it—severe burns, emergency situation, mass casualties. Your kind of thing.”
I laughed.
“You can borrow it if you want.”
“Thanks. We like the same books,” I said, looking at the rest of the stack.
I knew he liked history, but most of these weren’t big titles. Self-published books about Alaskan homesteaders and stories of Native Americans. A memoir about a man who ran a dogsled team in the 1940s.
I liked lesser-known books too. I’d even read a few of these. It was a little surprising. I didn’t really know anyone who read the exact same kind of books I liked.
“What’s the last book you read?” he asked, pulling out a frying pan.
“Well, I actually just finished this one,” I said, showing him one from his stack. “But right now I’m reading The Great Influenza by John M. Barry.”
“Oh yeah, I read that,” he said, setting some carrots, garlic, and an onion on the counter. “About the Spanish flu of 1918. You know my great-great-grandfather Wilbur Grant saved the whole town from that.”
“Really?” I said. “How?”
“Cut down trees to block the roads into Wakan. Kept everyone in, everyone out. Didn’t lose one person. They were pretty pissed at him though at the time.”
“Was he the mayor too?” I asked.
Daniel nodded. “Yup. A Grant has always been the mayor, going back one hundred and twenty-five years.”
“Wow. Always?”
“Always.”
“How many Grants are here now?”
He shrugged. “Just me. I’m the last one.”