Page 52 of Last Summer

“I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have brought you out here, not this far. You aren’t acclimated.” He yanks on his knit cap and pulls it over the top of his ears. “I’m a professional. I expected too much of you. I shouldn’t have pushed you to go this far.”

If he could kick himself in the rear, Ella is sure he would. He looks miserable.

“For the record, you didn’t push me. I could have said no. You didn’t force me to come out here.”

“I didn’t give you much of an option.”

“True. But a good part of my job is getting to watch the people I interview in action. There isn’t much to watch when we’re sitting across from each other at a table. You made our day more interesting. I’m a little light-headed and sore. No biggie. I can manage.”

“Still, it just proves...” He stops and glances away. He looks at his watch. “We need to head back. It’s getting late.” He starts walking. The dogs scamper ahead, leading the way. Ella doesn’t budge.

“Hey, Donovan!” she calls after him. “Proves what?”

He swings around, walking backward. “That my head isn’t in the game.” Turning back, he continues on.

“Is that why you quitOff the Grid!?” she hollers.

“Get moving, Skye. The sun doesn’t stay up for anyone. You don’t want to be walking this trail as it gets dark.”

No, she doesn’t. The unmarked path and white landscape make it too easy to get lost in the diminishing light.

She jogs after Nathan and the dogs through protesting muscles, falling into step behind them. Soon the aspirin kicks in and she feels looser. They don’t talk much on the way back. Nathan seems to be in a funk so she lets him stew and keeps her attention on the ground. A twisted ankle would ruin their day. She’d be stuck out here, cold and alone, while Nathan ran back to his house to call for help. Or worse, he’d have to carry her. How humiliating.

Pressing fingers to her windburned cheeks, she glances at the sky. Clouds drift slowly overhead. The toe of her boot catches on a root. Stumbling, she bumps into a boulder.Ouch.She rubs her arm.

“Ella,” Nathan snaps. Suddenly in front of her, he waves a hand in her face. “Pay attention.”

She blinks, glancing up at him, her movements slow and lethargic.

He says a few choice words, then pats his pockets until he finds a smashed protein bar. He tears off the wrapper.

“Eat this. You need fuel.” He waits until she finishes. “Better?”

A rush of sugar hits her system. “Much, thank you.” She didn’t finish her sandwich earlier. She’d been too distracted asking questions and listening to Nathan.

“The altitude messes with you. Why didn’t you tell me you felt dizzy?”

She shakes her head, holding on to the tree for balance. “Not dizzy. Not anymore. Just tired and shaky.”

“Doesn’t matter. Think you can walk now or do you need to rest more?”

“No, I’m good. Let’s go.”

They resume walking. The sun sets earlier at their elevation, and soon the bright orb is hiding behind trees until it disappears, dousing the sky in pinks and lavenders. It’s almost 5:00 p.m. when they make it back to Nathan’s, and by the time the trail opens onto his property, Ella wants nothing more than to enjoy a hot bath and to pee in a toilet. How in the world did she backpack five days straight?

“All right if I use your bathroom before I leave?” she asks.

The shadow of a frown touches his forehead. “Don’t go.” He steps close to her so that she has to tilt her head back to look at him. “I mean, you shouldn’t drive just yet. Rest. Have dinner with me.”

Ella glances at her car and back. Her stomach growls. She’s hungry, and if she stays, they can put in another couple of hours toward the interview.

“Sure, I’ll stay.”

CHAPTER 15

Nathan moves about the kitchen prepping a dinner of steak, potatoes, and asparagus. He changed into worn jeans and a green flannel shirt. A shock of hair, rich like damp wood, drapes his forehead as he bends over the steaks, seasoning the rib eyes. He hums along to the music playing in the background, the Doors’ “Light My Fire,” seemingly lost in his own world and obviously used to living alone. Ella doubts he entertains much company up here.

Ella studies him from her chair at the table, piecing together the man she spent hours binge-watching the other day compared to the man she went hiking with. This man with her today is more reserved and cautious than the icy rudeness she was met with yesterday. And right now, he seems relaxed, comfortable in his own skin. All three versions are a far cry from his television persona, the man she expected to meet. On-screen he was confident. He attacked each episode’s challenge with precision, guiding his guests with skill and finesse. It was never lost on him that the snap of a rope while rappelling down a cliff face or slip of the foot on loose pebbles on a trail no wider than the width of his boot above a steep ravine could send him and his guest careening to their deaths. As intense as he’d be one moment, he’d crack a joke the next. His brilliant smile would light up the screen.

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