As he coughed to get her attention, she startled, putting her hand to her throat. “Oh, hi. Jeez, you never make a sound.”

“Habit, I guess.”

“You mean you like to sneak up on people?”

“No.” He went over to stand next to her, but fuck the view. He only wanted to look at the woman who was haunting him like a ghost for no good goddamned reason. “It’s just handy to not draw attention to yourself sometimes.”

“Sounds sneaky.”

“You want me to take up the ukulele, maybe? The trombone?”

Her eyes, those lovely whiskey-colored eyes, wrinkled at the corners as she smiled. “You would do that?”

“Sure, I’d suck at either one, but I’m game.”

“Just to keep this job,” she said.

“Yeah, paychecks are nice, you know? And on that note, I didn’t wreck your car.”

“I didn’t think you would.” She looked back out at the trees, her profile tense, her hair now pulled back in a rubber band like its strands had been annoying her. “So how are the bridges?”

I like it down here better, he thought.

“I was only able to check out two of them,” he said, “and they’re not great. But at least I know how to fix them so you can get one more season out of ’em without a big spend. I am going to get the ATV working, however, so I can haul the lumber out. It’s too much for your hatchback.”

“Do we have enough wood in the shed?”

“We’ll see.”

As he went silent, he waited for her to say something. But she just refocused on the view, a study in someone with too much on their mind.

“Okay, out with it,” he demanded. “Were you fired?”

Lydia’s eyes returned to his. “What makes you ask that?”

“Come on, a woman like that strides in like she owns the place, driving a car that’s worth more than this facility? She’s either a headhunter trying to raid someone or a higher-up dropping the hammer.”

“Well, she didn’t fire me.” Lydia shrugged. “And she’s not as bad as I thought she was.”

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” When she went back to the view again, he said, “You can be honest with me.”

There was a long period of silence. After which he was compelled to say, “You know what’s great about drifters?”

Lydia murmured, “You never have to worry about being a hoarder?”

“Well, that’s true. But we also know how to handle ourselves—and others. So how can I help you?”

“I thought you didn’t get involved in business that wasn’t your own,” she said.

“I’m an employee here. You’re an employee. This is my business.”

She turned around and stared at the sliding door that led back into the building. On the far side of the glass, the receptionist was talking on the phone. Hanging up. Taking notes on a pad. Getting into her email and composing something.

“I have to mail a bunch of invitations,” Lydia said absently. “Like five hundred. Can you help me take them to the post office?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Let’s go,” she said remotely. “Do you have my keys still?”

He took the ring out of his pocket and dangled them. “Right here.”

Lydia seemed to set her shoulders. “Great. You can drive.”

SO HAVE YOU found a place to crash?”

As Lydia tossed the question out, she was shooting for casual in everything she did, everything she said: Even though her body was trembling, she clicked her seatbelt and arranged herself in her hatchback’s passenger seat in what she hoped seemed like a laid-back sprawl. And though her voice was threatening to break octave and pull a tension-filled soprano, she tethered it to normal range. No pressure of speech was allowed, either, so she slowed her words, evened her tone.

It was like taking a belt sander to her affect.

Meanwhile, on the driver’s side, Daniel Joseph was overflowing everything, and the heft of him was comforting.

“Nah, I don’t have a place yet.” He backed out and turned them around. “But something’ll turn up. It always does.”

She looked over with a frown. “So you’re staying at the Pine Lodge until you—”

“I’m not sure where I’m going to be. That place is expensive, although running water is nice.”

“Tonight you’ll stay there, though.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Up at the county road, he hit the blinker to go left. “No,” she said. “Let’s go the other way.”

“But the post office is by the bank, right?”

“If you could head in the other direction, that would be great. I just need to go check on something first.”

“Okay. Whatever you say.”

They waited for a pickup truck to pass by, and then he hit the gas, Lydia’s beater letting out a wheeze as it was called on to get over the hump of asphalt with so much more load than it usually carried.

On the proper road, coasting along at forty-five, he glanced over. “So are we going to your house? It’s not far from here.”

“How do you know where I live?” she said.

Not that it was a state secret. Lots of people knew where she lived.

Unfortunately.

“I ate at the diner, remember?” Daniel rolled his eyes. “That night you almost had chicken pot pie with me. After you left, I got your life story. Where you live, that you’ve been single since you moved here two years ago, that you’re very serious and haven’t left for a vacation or even a weekend away. Well, there were two trips to Plattsburgh for that root canal, though. Oh, and you’re very serious. Did I say that already?”

She propped her elbow on the window and rubbed an aching head. “Bessie told you all that?”

“Well, to be fair, I got most of it from the supermarket side when I bought a Coke and a bag of Doritos to snack on after you interviewed me. I was waiting to get a copy of your dental records with my receipt, but I think her Xerox was broken.”

“How did I come up?” Lydia groaned. “Wait, let me guess. I’m the only single woman in forty miles of mountain terrain and you’re not wearing a wedding ring.”

“Pretty much. It all started when she wanted to know why I was in town and I told her.”

“Susan is such a talker.” Lydia glanced over. “And I guess I have no secrets from you now, huh.”

Daniel lowered his lids. “I wouldn’t say that.”

As Lydia’s breath caught, images of naked skin and horizontal bodies and fur rugs in front of fireplaces turned everything into a modern-day Bridgerton. Not at all helpful, but something to put on pause and save for later.

When he refocused on the road, she did the same and touched her lips. They were tingling as if he’d kissed her.

“Sorry,” he said.

“For?”

“What’s going through my head right now. You don’t want me to go into it, but I’m thinking you know what it is.”

Refocusing out the side window, Lydia murmured, “Candy thinks I should go out with you.”