“Normal people start their days with caffeine,” she complains. Nathan starts his with adrenaline. So much for her conclusion that he’s living a risk-free life.
“Go park. We’re packed and ready to roll.”
She narrows her gaze. “You promised me an interview today, Donovan.”
“You’ll get your answers, Skye.”
“About us, too,” she presses, the memory-dream lurking in her mind. “I want to know everything.”
He drags his knit cap off his head and, ruffling his hair, glances at his boots.
“Sure, yeah, you’ll get those, too,” he says, looking straight at her, and Ella inhales sharply as realization hits her. She now knows why Damien didn’t want her to come and why Nathan acted so familiar with her when she arrived. Nathan’s expression says it all. That dream she had this morning? It wasn’t a dream. It was a memory. She and Nathan were involved.
Damn you, Damien, for not telling me.
She should turn around right now, call Rebecca from the road. Insist that she reassign the interview to Jordan or cancel altogether. To hell with her job. Her marriage is more important.
But Nathan . . . She wants to know what happened last summer and what it has to do with her memory loss. The two must be connected. She also wants to know why Nathan hasn’t just come out and told her. He’s as aggravating as Damien, keeping things from her.
She has no choice but to see this through.
Ella eases up the window and parks her car. When she gets out, Fred and Bing bark and howl from inside the house. They paw the front window.
“You aren’t bringing the dogs?”
“Not this trip.” He opens the passenger door and pats the leather seat. “Hop up.”
She heaves herself into the cab with a grunt.
Nathan touches her arm. “How’re you feeling today?”
“A little sore, but I’ll be fine.”
Concern etches deep grooves in his brow. “Sorry if I pushed you too hard.”
“You didn’t. I’m in shape, just not used to the elevation, I guess. You live in a beautiful area.”
He lifts his head. A slight smile plays on his lips. “Thanks. I love it up here.”
Ella breathes in and smiles. “I forgot how much I love the smell of pine. It reminds me of Christmas when I was a little girl. My aunt Kathy would take Andrew and me to the tree farms in the Santa Cruz Mountains. She was old and we were young, and we’d have to ask some other family’s dad to cut our tree and put it in the back of her car. When she got too sick to even decorate the tree, Andrew and I would walk to the corner tree lot and carry one back home. Aunt Kathy would sit in her chair and tell us exactly where she wanted us to hang the ornaments. I don’t think I’ve been to a tree farm since I was eleven.” She frowns, looking down at her hands folded over the leather gloves in her lap. She smiles slightly on an abbreviated exhale and shakes her head, bemused. “I have no idea why I just told you that.”
“It’s a good memory.”
“It is.” Her smile broadens. “I love the mountains, but I’ll let you in on a secret.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“I’m not a fan of the cold. I make up excuses to get out of the city during fog season.”
He laughs. “You’ll get used to it.”
“Well, your blood is thicker than mine.” She points at his snow pants. “Will I be okay wearing jeans?”
“I have shells for you in the back seat. You can wear them over your jeans.”
“My size?” she asks with reservation, wondering what other belongings he has of hers.
“No, they’re mine. We won’t be hiking today so you don’t have to worry about them falling around your ankles.” The skin around his eyes crinkles. He grasps the seat belt clip and yanks the strap forward. “Buckle up, Skye.” Nathan shuts her door and makes his way around the truck and settles into the driver’s seat.
“Where are we headed?” she asks. The truck’s engine grumbles under the hood, a sleeping giant waking.
“A fire road I know of about an hour from here.”
“That far?” She can mentally hear the clock ticking down the time.
“Not far. Slow going. We have to take back roads.”
He shifts the truck into gear and eases off the brake, his eyes on the rearview mirror, checking the trailer behind them. Satisfied it’s hitched and the snowmobile strapped on, he clips on his belt and drives.
“The road is closed to the public this time of year, but I know the ranger on duty,” he explains, reaching for the climate control. “Are you warm enough?”
“I am now.” Warm air blows in her face. She adjusts the vents and slips off her jacket, folding it on her lap.
“Seat warmer button’s here if you need it.” He points at the dial, then rubs his hands together and blows into his cupped palms. “Ready for some fun?”
“Ready to talk?”
He laughs, shaking his head. “Ease up, Skye. There will be plenty of time for that later.”
They drive for an hour over narrow, pothole-laden back roads until they reach the end of one, the road barricaded with a steel barrier gate. Yellow paint peels off the tubular post, and a NO TRESPASSING sign hangs askew by one bolted corner. Beyond the gate is a decent snowpack. Nathan turns the truck around so that the trailer faces the barrier. He cuts the engine.
“Are you sure this is okay?” she asks, looking out the rear window. The road on the other side, hidden under the snow, disappears into a dense thicket of trees.
“Yep.” He reaches into the back and drops the shell pants on Ella’s lap. “Put these on. I’ll unload the sled.” He hops from the truck. Cold air wafts inside, swapping places with the cab’s heat. He pokes his head back inside. “Got gloves?”
She waves her black leather, cashmere-lined gloves. Had she known she’d be spending this much time outdoors, she would have brought her ski gloves.
“Those’ll do.” He grins, schoolboy giddy, and slams the door.
Ella watches him out the back window, moving about the trailer, releasing latches. Before she thinks to put on the shell, he has the snowmobile down the ramp.
Facing back around, she jams one leg into the shell. Nathan bangs on her window and she jumps with a squeak. “Holy—”
“Hurry up.”
“Slow your roll, dude,” she grumbles. Someone’s a tad too excited to play with his toys.
Sixty seconds later, jacket and gloves on, she hops from the truck and waddles to the snowmobile, holding the shell pants at her waist. She feels ridiculous. Bending over, she folds up the hems. Nathan hands her a helmet when she straightens back up.
“We’re really doing this?” She side-eyes the sleek black helmet with a reflective lens.
“Sure, why not?”
“I can’t talk to you with this on.” She inspects the helmet. Nathan fires up the snowmobile and revs the motor. “Or over that,” she yells.
“Yes, you can,” he shoots back. He points to the communication device inside the helmet. “But you’re not asking questions. I have to focus on driving.” He straps on his helmet.
She scowls and puts on her own.
“Play first. Talk later. Hop on, Skye.” His voice fills her head. He pats the seat behind him.
Ignoring the double entendre of his words, she straddles the seat.
“Hold on.” Nathan’s voice comes over the com.
She grasps his waist.
“Tighter or you’ll fall off.” He tugs her arms so that her chest is plastered to his back and her thighs tightly flank his. She bites her bottom lip to keep from groaning out loud. Holy moly, the fucker planned this.
“Here we go.”
Nathan maneuvers the vehicle through a narrow opening and then they’re off, soaring across the flat, white landscape. Ella shrieks with delight and the guilt she briefly felt earlier evaporates. Through the com, she can hear Nathan’s answering whoop of excitement.
When she was a sophomore in high sc
hool, Ella started dating a senior named Mike Tate, the same boy she was with the night Grace took her life. Ella broke up with Mike a few days after her best friend’s death. Guilt drove her to end their relationship, even though she was still into him. But she shouldn’t have been with him that night. She should have been with Grace. Looking back, though, Mike might have been the first boy she loved, and if it wasn’t him she loved, it was the rush she got when she was with him.
Mike owned a 2004 lime-green Kawasaki Ninja, spoiled ass that he was. The motorcycle purred with unbridled power when he let it fly down the freeway, weaving in and out of traffic, taking Ella for the joyride of her life. There was something exhilarating about her body breaking through the wind and the horsepower vibrating between her legs while going at top speed. Skating just inside of control.
Ella just now realizes that she hasn’t experienced such freedom since riding with Mike. Not even with Damien. And she hasn’t realized she missed this—craved it—until Nathan flies them over an embankment, catching air.
Laughing, she hugs him tighter. This is what he seeks when he free-climbs cliffs. This is the rush he chases when he skydives. This is what he wanted to share with Stephanie and she rejected it. She rejected him.
Did he find that rush with her?
CHAPTER 18
Ella forces herself to be present, to enjoy the ride. To not dwell on what she might have once felt for him or what he might have once meant to her.
They ride the ungroomed terrain for a couple of hours, and when the tank nears empty, they return to the truck. Laughing, knuckle-bumping, and high-fiving, they banter about the ride and muse over the spectacular views they captured through the trees. Ella snaps photos of Nathan and his sled, as he likes to refer to his snowmobile. Sled on steroids is more like it. She’ll use the pictures for the article since Rebecca didn’t assign a photographer. Nathan’s request. Ella only.
Nathan loads the snowmobile onto the trailer and straps it down. They pile into the truck’s cab and shut their doors at the same time.
“That was fun,” she says, breathless. She sets her camera on the dash and pulls off her gloves.
Nathan tosses his gloves aside and reaches behind him over the seat. “I brought hot chocolate. Want some?” He shows her the metal thermos.
“You’re prepared. Is it laced?”
He snorts a laugh. “No. I have to drive.” He pours two cups.
She blows across the surface of her drink. Steam moistens her nose. She takes a tentative sip. Rich chocolate with a cinnamon bite fills her mouth. “This is good.” Though she could have used a shot of whiskey to soothe the adrenaline pulsing through her. It might quell her craving to crawl onto Nathan’s lap. Or . . .
It could lower her resistance, and that wouldn’t be good at all.
Nathan presses the ignition button and lets the truck idle. Warm air circulates in the cab and Ella sheds her coat. A faint echo of her dream touches her mind. She doesn’t remember the specifics. The images are elusive, but the feelings are there. Arousal, need, and a burning desire to reach across the center console and touch Nathan overtake her. If she kisses him, would it feel familiar? Would touching him so intimately be strong enough to trigger her memories?
She hates that she yearns for him in the way a married woman shouldn’t.
Nathan watches her, and his brow creases. “What?”
She finishes her hot chocolate and places the empty cup in the cup holder. She might as well ask. “Did we sleep together last summer?”
Nathan sputters his hot chocolate. He lets out a nervous laugh, then looks at her. His expression says it all. The longing and regret. And hope.
Shit.
Why would he invite her up here? Does he expect to start something up again?
Hello? They’re married. To other people.
But that didn’t stop them before.
“Why am I here?” she asks him.
“I promised to take you snowmobiling.”
When did he promise that? Why make such a promise when they never should have gotten involved in the first place? And where were they for such a question to come up? It had been the middle of the summer.
She has so many questions, but his answer isn’t the right one for her question.
“You know that’s not what I’m asking.”
Nathan finishes his drink and sets the cup on the dash. He shifts in his seat, angling his body so that one arm is draped over the steering wheel. “We hiked for five days. You spent another nine at my place.”
Nine days at his place. Two weeks total. Fourteen days. Half a month. However she spins it, it was quite a bit of time.
Where was Damien during all this?
London. He told her she joined him there after the ten days she spent on assignment.
She lied to him and Davie about the amount of time she spent on the assignment. Same with Rebecca. She’d told them ten days, Rebecca five. Why?
Despite the self-disgust, she can’t ignore one thing: blocked memories or not, she’s still very attracted to Nathan.
“We got to be very close,” Nathan quietly acknowledges.
“You still haven’t answered my question.”
He takes a beat before he does. “I got an email from Rebecca’s assistant a couple of months ago. Late January, I think. She was feeling me out about my interest in pursuing the exclusive again. I wasn’t going to call, and it took me a long time before I did, but . . . ” He sighs. “You’re here now because I wanted to see you.”
“Hell, Nathan. My being here better be about more than you missing me. And don’t even think about pulling the exclusive again. You do and I might lose my job.”
“I won’t.” He raises a hand. She gives him a hard look. “Swear. I’m not expecting anything out of this. What happened between us before just happened. I didn’t plan on it. For Christ’s sake, my son died and my wife wanted to divorce me. She still wants a divorce. The last thing on my mind last summer was—” He stalls, his attention pulled elsewhere. He points at the windshield. A green truck approaches.
“It’s Ted,” Nathan says when he can make out the driver. He eases down his window when Ted stops his truck alongside Nathan’s. “Afternoon, Ted.”
Ella’s gaze darts to the dashboard clock: 12:06 p.m. The morning has flown by.
“Good to see you, Nathan.” Ted’s hazel eyes land on Ella. “Afternoon.”
Nathan gestures at Ella. “This is my friend Ella. Ella, Ranger Ted Berringer.”
She waves. “Hello.”
“How’s Sue?” Nathan asks.
“She’s good. She’s home with Alex. He’s been fighting the flu.”
“Tell her hi for me. Hope your son gets better soon. What brings you out here?”
Ted glances beyond the barrier gate. “The department received reports of gunfire. My guess is some jackass illegally hunting. Hear anything?”
“Nope.” Nathan looks at Ella. “You?”
She shakes her head.
“We were just leaving.”
Ella narrows her eyes at him. No, they weren’t. They were in the middle of a conversation and she wants to finish it.
“I’ll just check the gate.” Ted gets out of his truck. “You know, Sue’s going to ask if I invited you to dinner when I tell her I ran into you.”
“Don’t tell her.” Nathan smirks.
“Yeah, that won’t fly. What do you say? Dinner at our place after Alex recoups? Or are you still playing the crazy recluse in the woods?” Ted’s tone is teasing, but he’s right—Nathan needs to be around other people.
Before she can think otherwise, Ella nudges his shoulder. “You should go.”
“Listen to the lady. Come on over. Scotch is on me.”
“I guess I’ll be there. Call when you’ve got a date.” His voice is slightly irritated.
If Ted noticed, he doesn’t comment on it. He grins. “Will do. By the way, it’s good to see you finally shaved. That mountain man beard was scaring
the tourists.”
“It was a disguise,” Nathan grumbles. “I had to buy groceries.”
“Worst disguise ever. Nice to meet you, Ella.”
“You too, Ted.”
Nathan shifts the truck into drive.
“You shaved for me.” She grins.
Nathan doesn’t comment. They drive back to his place in silence and Ella wonders if she stepped over the line. It isn’t her place to interfere in his personal life. It’s not right of her to force him into public when he’s not emotionally ready.
As Nathan pulls up his driveway, Ella turns to him, an apology on her tongue. But Nathan is glaring out the windshield. Ella looks in the same direction.
A Toyota Corolla takes up the space beside Ella’s Range Rover, and the owner of the car is sitting on the porch. He stands and waves. Ella recognizes him immediately, and she doubts this is a social visit.
“Why is Miles Jorgenson at your house?”
Nathan shoots her a look. “You know him?”
“Of him. We met once at a media awards banquet.”
Miles Jorgenson and Ella run in the same circles. He’s a seasoned contributor to numerous magazines, mainly Outside. Known for his provocative stories about engaging, outdoor-oriented personalities, Miles is relentless, with a paparazzi-style persistence when in pursuit of a story. It appears he’s after Nathan’s.
“Why’s he here?”
Nathan cuts the engine and sighs.
Ella’s stomach plummets. “Did you offer him an interview, too?”
“No, I didn’t,” he says sharply. “Although considering everything, maybe—”
“Don’t even finish that thought,” she says. Nathan’s story is hers. Too many people at Luxe Avenue are counting on her to see this through. “How do you know this guy?”
Remote and unlisted, the only way to locate Nathan’s property is to have the address. And to get that, Nathan would have to have given it out.
“We collaborated on several articles about the Tahoe region.”
“I know, I read them. That doesn’t explain why he’s here. My understanding is that you gave my magazine the exclusive.”
“I did. It’s just—”
“Damn you, Nathan. You yanked this story from me once. You swore back there you’d see this through.”
Last Summer: A Novel Page 14