Chapter 46

And they settled into a routine. Him, the dog, and Amy.

She came by most every day. Whether it was to help for a few hours or to talk over where to place walls and fixtures, they’d hang, then share dinner, lunch, or a late-night treat. Whatever the day leaned toward.

Then she’d be gone with a quick hug. He found himself wanting more. Looking forward to the sound of her key in the front door, her steps in the hallway. Her bright looks, especially the ones where she checked in with him without a word, those pale blue eyes scrutinizing him. Then giving him intuitively what he needed. Space, conversation, a tackle hug—whatever it took.

He always felt better. Accepted that but wondered too.

He was a damn SEAL. Damn Delta North Special Ops, too. Okay, ex, on all counts. But he was the one who was supposed to take care of others. Is that how this life thing worked? You shared stuff like that?

Interesting concept. Mainly he just knew he missed her when she wasn’t around, and Ryker did too.

He’d also reconnected with the guys on Facebook. He hadn’t logged on at for months, not wanting any part of it, when his life was such a mess. But after the day he’d carried Ryker to the park openly, he realized he had nothing to lose. He was who he was, and so was his dog. They were a team. So now, shit and barf updates were just a weekly thing. It felt good.

And that wasn’t the only new thing.

The shift in the townspeople. Was he crazy? Were they just being decent to him because of Amy, and the respect she garnered so naturally?

Could be. He’d tried to assess it realistically.

But when he carried the dog every morning for his walk at the ungodly hour of 6 a.m.—Ryker’s choice—the butcher four shops down happened to be tossing scraps. The young man, Rufus—a military reservist who’d served in Delta North too, was someone he likely should have connected with as soon as he’d come back, but hadn’t. He’d had stuff to figure out. Plus, he’s stayed away from the townspeople as much as possible. The same old thing.

Shame. Guilt.

But after the early-morning walks started, Rufus was there reliably, as sure as the rising sun, just like he’d been, back in Delta North. He always had a quick grin for the puppy in Nathan’s arms and fed him scraps on a pristine white piece of wax paper, while feeding him a much more meaningful look, too. Though he was on the shy side and had obviously read Nathan’s prickliness correctly.

At four p.m., the cycle started again. Flora usually met him on the sidewalk outside of HQ, always in a print dress, pearls, pale stockings and shiny white shoes. Looked cross, out of place, until she saw him and Ryker. Then she brightened, chatted with him about her day, and inevitably threw her arm out, ramrod straight again, pointing toward the green.

“Go, young man,” she ordered, every single day, as if it was the first time it had ever come up. “To the park! Walk that dog!”

And he did.

Then at night, he’d take Ryker out one last time. A couple of times the dog allowed Nathan to set him just on the sidewalk in front of HQ, and nose around there. He still startled if a late-night truck drove by, engine rattling and muffler absent, but less so.

And somehow, Emma started showing up with her great big Dalmatian, Beowulf, as well as her newly acquired Westie-Chihuahua mix, Hershey. They made an interesting trio. And she’d always ask how Ryker was.

Good, he’d tell her. Or confide his concerns, if he had any. How Ryker seemed to be off his food. Or too hyper. Or too lethargic. Had diarrhea.

Then one night, after the regular dog-talk, she’d fixed her clear blue eyes on him.

“So…how are you?”

And he’d known the tide had turned.

So when he heard Amy’s key in the door one fine late Fall day, he smiled. If all went well, and he didn’t see why it shouldn’t, today was the day.

“Hellooo! Where are you, Nathan? And hey, little one. How’s tricks?” She scooped the pup into her arms, nuzzled his nose with hers. “What’s the good news today?”

He stood in front of her, wiped his hands on a grey rag decorated with paint spots. “Wall’s almost done. Bottom didn’t want to fit, but I figured out why, did some cuts. Fits perfect now.”

She joined him, holding the wriggling puppy tight. “Oh man,” she breathed, as she scrutinized the now perfect wall. “That’s amazing! Just absolutely amazing.”

And from the side, without her seeing, he took her all in—brownish-red wispy hair, sunshine in her face. Didn’t want to pull his gaze away.

But at this point, even if she’d turned into a dark troll with a slap of black warts, he was stuck.

Stuck 100% on her. Her voice, her ways. Amy St. James had invaded his blood. Like a damn virus, or a life-giving elixir. He wasn’t sure, but whatever it was, it had happened and he’d accepted it.

She wiggled another paper bag in her hand. “Time for dinner,” she all but trumpeted. And he grinned. His acceptance of this, of the ‘healthy’ meals was the scariest thing, he secretly thought.

But he grinned and made his way to the sleeping bag, their informal dining area. Gave the sleeping bag a quick lift and whip, then smoothed it out for her. “Madam.”

“Sir.” She set Ryker down, sat herself. Laid out the meal she’d brought, partly from home and partly from Rena’s, while she gave him her good news.

“Jay says he’ll be by in a couple of weeks. Check out the progress. And if it looks good, and the numbers in my revised business plan line up—which they will—he’ll reconsider the loan.”

A surge of delight ran through him. “Seriously?”

She nodded. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

After the meal was done, he sprung his idea on her. But it had to be just the right way. For some reason, he couldn’t come right out and ask her. Too scary.

“You’ve been feeding me a lot.”

“Yeah.”

“I want to feed you.”

She blinked. “Sure?”

“Tomorrow night, seven p.m. At your cabin.”

She was suddenly serious. “I’m away tomorrow. In Toronto, remember? That theatre thing on Berkeley, with Jess.”

“And you no longer have keys?”

Realization dawned. “Sure! You can have the keys. Anytime.” A solemn look, somewhat disbelieving. “You’ll be cooking?”

“I’ll be cooking.”

“I trust you know how to operate a stove?”

“I do, and what I don’t know, I can look up online.”

“Ha ha.” She dug in her purse, fished out a bunch of things attached together. “In this, somewhere, is the front door key. An extra set.” She gathered Ryker into her arms, gave him a huge hug, squeezed him to her chest. “You be good for Dad, okay?”

The word, the rush of it, flew through his blood.

Dad.

But she was already in the hallway. “Prince is away on a puppy play date tomorrow. Weird, huh? They may keep him overnight if I’m not back early enough to get him, so we’ll have the place to ourselves.”

She’d said yes. He figured she would, but…she had.

He was now officially in a different life, head, and time zone. All spinning.

“It’s perfect.”

“Got to run. Have the best night, Nathan.” She gave him a hug. Was it his imagination that she lingered?

All he knew was he didn’t want her to go, and then she was gone.