Page 96 of Torin

Well. This is happening. Hiding behind the house isn’t exactly a long-term strategy.

I step off the deck and make my way around the side of the lodge.

A pickup truck sits in the driveway with its tailgate down. A huge, dark-haired man is unloading two large suitcases while a much smaller woman digs through a canvas tote beside the open passenger door.

“I know I packed them,” she says.

“You’ve been saying that for five minutes.”

“Because I know I did.”

She emerges triumphantly with a paper bag. “Found them.”

Gunnar glances over. “Thank the heavens.”

“You thought I’d leave handmade olive oil behind?”

“You bought three bottles.”

“Four.”

“Alex...”

She grins.

I round the corner, and they both look over.

I have absolutely no idea what to say.

“Well...” Torin’s voice carries across the driveway, and relief floods through me as he comes around the front of the lodge. “Looks like you made it home.”

Gunnar’s face breaks into a grin. “Tor.”

Then he takes in Torin’s battered face.

“Jesus. What happened to you?”

“Tell you later.”

Gunnar pulls him into a fierce embrace, and Torin hugs him back just as hard.

“Good to see you, brother.”

Alexandria comes over smiling. “We missed you.”

She hugs Torin as soon as Gunnar lets him go.

“Missed you too.”

“You weren’t meant to be home yet.”

“We got impatient.”

“Alex got impatient,” Gunnar says.

“I’ll take the blame.”

Watching them, I get the strange feeling I’m intruding. They’re so completely at ease with one another.