Page 44 of Last Summer

“Your home is beautiful,” Ella says, joining Nathan in the kitchen area.

“Thanks,” he says, working an espresso machine.

“That’s a fancy coffee maker for a guy who prefers cooking over campfires.”

His brow lifts. “You do remember something about me.”

“No such luck. I read it inOutside.”

“Here I thought my charismatic personality brought it all back to you.” Ella’s lip quirks and Nathan smiles. “As for the coffee”—he turns a dial and steamed milk pours into a mug—“I take it seriously.” He nods in the direction of the table. “Have a seat.”

Ella drops her bag on the table, removes her laptop and voice recorder, and sits. Nathan brings over a steaming mug. He didn’t ask Ella how she takes her coffee when she has a fancy option, but one sip of the vanilla latte tells her it’s perfect. Exactly as she would have requested.

Because he knows her.

“Thank you,” Ella murmurs. She clears her throat, calling on her willpower to keep her hands from trembling. She doesn’t want Nathan to see her nerves. But he probably already senses her unease. He’s a guy who relies on his instincts for survival, and he’s had a lifetime to hone his. He detects nuances others don’t pick up. And from the way he’s studying her, he’s picking up on something.

Ella pushes out a breath and gives him a reassuring smile. But he doesn’t join her at the table. He leans back against the counter, ankles crossed and left hand tucked into his pants’ front pocket. He drinks his coffee and continues to watch her.

“So...how do you want to do this?” she asks. “Sit here or over there?” She gestures at the L-shaped leather couch. It’s deep, sturdy, and well worn. A perfect fit within the home’s aesthetics.

“Outside,” he says.

“Outside?” Ella glances out the windows behind her. It’s cold out there. Is he crazy?

“I thought we’d go for a hike.”

In the snow? He’s certifiably insane.

Of course his dogs don’t share Ella’s sentiment, clearly knowing the wordhikethe way a city dog would know the wordwalk. Sitting by the front door, they whine, excited, tails thumping, front paws prancing. Bing picks up his water pack and gives it a good shake. Another water pack, Fred’s, rests against a compact backpack. Nathan has everything set and ready to go.

“There’s snow.” Ella states the obvious.

“Yeah,” he remarks like it’s no big deal. “The trail’s relatively flat and the snow’s worn down. We’ll be fine. The dogs and I hiked it the other day.”

She stares at him. “You’re serious about this?”

“Completely.”

“I—I’m not dressed to hike,” she sputters. Any other day and under any other circumstance, she’d be game for an adventure. But up here, she’s isolated with a man she has a shared history with. What if she ticked him off last summer and he plans to push her off a cliff?

Don’t be ridiculous, El.

She imagines Damien laughing at her, shaking his head. He’d then kiss her and reassure her she has nothing to worry about. People know she’s here. Nathan wouldn’t do something stupid, not when she’s the one he invited up here to help him. He wants an article inLuxe Avenuespecifically, notOutside, a more logical choice given his audience. Ella intends to find out why.

Nathan eyes her attire: turtleneck sweater, skinny jeans, and calf-high leather boots. “Hold on a second.” He crosses the expansive room and goes downstairs.

Ella looks at the dogs. “Is he always like this?” Going places and doing things? She doubts she can convince him to sit still for the length of time she anticipates for their chats.

Fred lets out a yelp. Bing shimmies closer to the door so that his side is plastered to the wood like Velcro. His jaw clamps on to his water pack.

“Guess that’s a yes.”

Ella packs up her laptop and slips the recorder into her pocket. Today’s interview will be conducted on the go.

Nathan returns. He sets a pile of folded clothes and a jacket on the table in front of her. Drops a pair of hiking boots at her feet. Ella peeks at the size on the hiking pants and her stomach turns over. She doesn’t have to look at the number inside the boots to know they’re an eight-and-a-half. She can just tell. She also knows Nathan’s wife is petite. These items don’t belong to Stephanie Donovan.

Her heart knocks against her chest. Her hands grow clammy.

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