Page 52 of One Last Promise

That was after, of course, getting Axel’s text that Moose was out of the clink and back at home. Shep had given London a ride to the Tooth to pick up her car, then watched her drive away.

No pie for them.

Sheesh, why had he kissed her?

“Yeah, sure,” he said to Oaken’s offer and came over to the island. Oaken pulled out a couple plates from his walnut cupboards and set them on the counter.

“Have you heard from Moose?” Oaken asked. “I haven’t heard anything since Axel texted and said he was going to Copper Mountain.”

“He called, but I was working out. I tried calling him back, but you know how sketchy it is up there—and with the rain?—”

“He has a landline at his house.”

“A landline—what’s that?”

Oaken laughed as he opened the box. “I have a pretty full tour schedule this fall, but I’ll be back in January. I can’t wait to get back up here and do some skiing too.”

“Dude. The beginning of winter is not the greatest time to come to Alaska.”

“I’m not here to sightsee,” Oaken said, and winked.

“You two getting serious?” Shep settled onto a stool.

“I’ve always been serious. But yeah, when you find the one, you know, right? I’m just trying to figure out . . . well, she’s not quite ready to tour with me, so I need to figure out how it’s going to work.”

“You just gotta dive in and make it work. And figure it out as you go.” He didn’t have a clue where that’d come from. He took the pie Oaken shoved at him.

“Dive in, huh?” Oaken said.

Right then, his crazy kiss with London decided to flash in front of his eyes. “Um . . . okay, don’t listen to me. What do I know? I’ve been single so long I’ve forgotten whatlove feels like.”

“I doubt that. Besides, you’re beginning to sound like a country song.”

Shep was all sorts of lying today, because . . . “Okay, but you don’t see me buying a house to live near the woman I love, so you’re way beyond my life experience.”

“Please.” Oaken dished up his own pie.

“What? Oh, this is good.” Shep washed down his blueberry pie with coffee.

“I know. And you know what I mean?—”

Shep raised an eyebrow.

“For the love—do you seriously think we’re all blind to you and London?”

Shep set his fork down. “There is nothing going on between me and London.”

Oaken brought his pie around, sat down on a stool.

“Fine. Maybe . . . once upon a time there was . . . we . . .”

Oaken cocked his head.

“It was sort of a brief, traumatic meeting. We were caught in an avalanche together for three days.”

Now Oaken put down his fork. “What?”

“It was in the Alps, in Switzerland—long story. The ice nearly won—we were close to dying of hypothermia before they found us. But, yeah, she made . . . an impression.”

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