River’s End

laughing. “You’re a moron, Noah. I almost got you killed or certainly maimed. What the hell were you going to do with that, city boy?” She swiped a hand over her face and tried to choke back a giggle as she eyed his knife.
    He turned the knife in his hand, considering the blade. “Protect the womenfolk.”
    She snorted out another laugh, shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s not funny. This must be a reaction to gross stupidity. I’ve seen cougar a few times, but never that close up, and I’ve always been on higher ground.”
    She blew out another breath, relieved that her stomach was settling down from its active jumping. And that’s when she noticed his hands were rock steady. He hadn’t so much as flinched, she realized. Wasn’t that amazing? “You handled yourself.”
    “Gee, thanks, Coach.” He slid the knife away.
    “No.” Calm again, she laid a hand on his arm. “You really handled yourself. I wouldn’t have expected it. I keep underestimating you, Noah. I keep trying to fit you into a slot, and you won’t go.”
    “Maybe you just haven’t found the right slot yet.”
    “Maybe, but I don’t think you fit into anything unless you want to.”
    “And what about you? Where do you want to fit, Liv?”
    “I’m where I want to be.”
    “Not the place. Liv. We’re not talking about forest or ocean here.”
    “I’m where I want to be,” she repeated. Or where, she admitted, she’d thought she wanted to be.
    “I have work that matters and a life that suits me.”
    “And how much room is there, in your slot?”
    She looked at him, then away again. “I don’t know. I haven’t had to make any.”
    “Get ready to,” was all he said.
    Neither of them was sure if it was a command or a suggestion.
    He offered to try his hand at fishing, but she pointed out he didn’t have a license and shot that down. Accepting that, he insisted on making soup instead, and entertained her with stories of childhood adventures with Mike.
    “He decides in-line skating is the way to get chicks.”
    Noah sampled the soup, decided it could have been worse. “Coordination isn’t Mike’s strong point, but at sixteen a guy’s brain is really just one big throbbing gland, so he blows most of his savings on the blades. I figure, what the hell, maybe he’s on to something and get myself a pair, too. We head to Venice to try out his theory.”
    He paused, poured them both more wine. The light was still strong, the air wonderfully cool. “The place is lousy with girls. Tall ones, short ones, wearing tiny little shorts. You gotta cruise first, scope things out. I home in on this little blonde in one of the girl packs.”
    Olivia choked. “Girl packs?”
    “Come on, your species always travels in packs. Law of the land. I’m working out how to cull her out of the herd while we strap on the blades. Then Mike gets up on his feet for about three seconds before his feet go out from under him. He pinwheels his arms, knocks this guy skating by in the face, they both go down like redwoods. Mike smacks his head on the bench and knocks himself out cold. By the time he comes to, I’ve lost the blonde, and end up taking Mike to the ER, where he had a standing appointment.”
    “A little accident-prone?”
    “He could hurt himself in his sleep.”
    “You love him.”
    “I guess I do.” And because there’d been something wistful in his statement, he studied her face. “Who’d you hang with when you were a kid?”
    “No one. There were a few when—before I moved up here, but after . . . Sometimes I’d play with kids at the lodge or campground, but they came and went. I don’t have any lasting attachments like your Mike. He’s doing all right now?”
    “Yeah. He bounces.”
    “Did they ever find the person who broke into your house and hurt him?”
    “No. Maybe it’s better that way. I’m not sure what I’d do if I got my hands on her. She could’ve killed him. Anything I could do to her wouldn’t be enough.”
    There was a dark side here, a latent violence she could see in his eyes. She’d had glimpses of it once or twice before. Oddly enough it didn’t make her uneasy, as hints of violence always did. It made her feel . . . safe, she supposed. And she wondered why.
    “Anything you could do wouldn’t change what already happened.”
    “No.” He relaxed again. “But I’d like to know why. Knowing why matters. Don’t you need to know why, Olivia?”
    She took his empty bowl, and