Page 105 of A Soldier's Return

Anna shrugged and spoke so quickly Sage was certain she must have given the matter some thought. “Abigail loved the smell of freesias. I think over her eighty years of living here and wearing the scent, some of it must have just absorbed into the walls and the carpet. Every once in a while, it’s released by a shifting of molecules or something.”

Sage wasn’t convinced but she wasn’t about to risk this tentative friendship by arguing. “Maybe,” she answered. “I like it, whatever the explanation.”

Anna smiled a little tremulously. “So do I.”

“I should go. It’s getting late.” When Sage set down her teacup and rose, Conan didn’t move from his spot curled up on his side by Anna’s feet like a huge red footwarmer. Apparently he was settled for the night. She felt a little twinge of jealousy but pushed it away. For some reason, she sensed Anna needed his company more than she did right now.

“I guess he’s yours for the night.”

“I guess.”

“Good night. I, uh, enjoyed the tea.”

Anna smiled. “So did I.”

“Next time it’s my treat.”

“I’ll count on it.”

She said good-night to Conan, who slapped his tail against the floor a few times before going back to sleep, then she headed up the stairs to her apartment.

No freesia lingered in the air here, only the spicy scent of lasagna—and perhaps a hint of Eben’s expensive cologne.

What was she going to do about the man?

Nothing, she answered her own question. What could she do? He would be leaving in a few days when his business here was done and she would go back to her happy, fulfilling life.

What other choice did she have? They were worlds apart in a hundred different ways. He was the CEO of a multinational corporation and she was a vegetarian nature-girl with a spooky, omniscient dog and a rambling old house full of ghosts and problems.

Yeah, the two of them seemed to generate this unlikely heat between them, but even if she were stupid enough to indulge herself by playing with it for awhile, dry tinder could only burn so long. Without the steady fuel of shared interests and emotional compatibility, the heat between them would probably flare and burn out quickly.

That thought depressed her more than it ought to.

She had a great life here in Cannon Beach, she reminded herself. Everything she could ever need. She knew that eventually this ache in her heart over losing Abigail would ease. She hurt a little less again than she had yesterday, a little less then than the day before that.

She would never stop missing her friend, but she knew eventually she would find her way back to homeostasis and begin to find happiness and joy in her life again.

Eben and Chloe Spencer would leave Cannon Beach in a few days and be just another memory. A pleasant one, yes, like all her many birdwatching hikes with Abigail and their hundreds of shared cups of tea, but a memory nonetheless.

“It’s a good thing you’re cute or I could definitely grow to loathe you for these morning tortures.”

The object of her ire simply sat waiting by the door with an impatient scowl for Sage to lace up her running shoes. Despite spending the night in Anna’s apartment, Conan must have squeezed out of his doggie door so he could come up the stairs and bark outside her door at the usual time to go running.

She yawned and tied her other shoe, dearly wishing she were back in her bed, that she had the nerve to send the mongrel down the beach to Eben’s rental unit to drag him out of bed.

Since that conjured up too many enticing images of wavy dark hair against a pillow, of whisker-roughened skin and sleepy smiles, she jerked her mind back to Conan, who was quivering with impatience. He barked again and she sighed.

“All right, all right. I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

Conan bounded down the stairs of Brambleberry House, dancing around in the foyer in his eagerness to be gone as she followed more slowly, yanking her hair back into a ponytail as she went.

The morning air was cool and the rain had stopped sometime in the night, leaving wisps of fog to wrap through the garden and around the coastal pines beyond.

She stood on the porch stretching her hamstrings and listening to the distant sound of the sea and the call of that screech owl she’d heard the night before.

Maybe she didn’t hate these runs with Conan after all, she decided. If not for them, she would miss all this morning splendor, simply for the sake of an extra hour of sleep.

The dog seemed wildly eager to go, whining impatiently and racing back and forth in the yard. Apparently he’d never heard of pulled muscles or torn ligaments, she thought sourly, then gave up stretching and followed him to the backyard, to the latched gate there that led directly to the beach.

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