Page 60 of Cowboy Mountain Man

He brushes his thumb along my side. “Hope. I’m asking you to come back. I’m not asking you to stop being who you are.”

“I don’t even know exactly who that is.”

“I’d like to find out.”

My eyes sting. Ridiculous. There’s a ceramic rooster watching. “I like my work,” I say.

“I know.”

“I worked hard to get good at it.”

“I’ve seen.”

“Some jobs are a long way from here.”

“Then we’ll plan.”

“What if I’m gone for a week?”

“I’ll miss you for a week.”

The answer is so simple it hurts.

I stare at him. “You make that sound easy.”

“Missing you won’t be.”

I press my lips together.

He waits. Outside, somebody calls for a furniture blanket. A dolly rattles across the porch. The world continues doing perfectly ordinary things while mine rearranges itself in this kitchen.

“I want to come back,” I say.

Harlan goes still. “After New Hampshire.”

“Yes.”

“And after the next job.”

His hand tightens slightly.

“Yes.”

“I don’t want every visit to feel like I’m borrowing a little piece of somebody else’s life.”

“You won’t be.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’m offering you a place in it.”

I take a breath. Then another. “What kind of place?”

His eyes hold mine. “Your clothes in the closet. Your books on the shelves. A desk by whichever window you like.”

“My coffee in the kitchen.”

“I was afraid of that.”