out of Nate’s coat just as he comes through the door, a frown on his face as he shoves his phone into his back pocket. I want to ask if everything is all right, but it’s not my place, and from his forced smile when he sees us all sitting there, I can tell it’s not.
I wrap my arms around myself, a chill in my bones. Will I ever get used to these temperatures? I’m sure I won’t be around long enough that I’ll have to. A strange niggling of disappointment comes out of nowhere and slides over my skin. Then again, maybe it’s just frostbite nipping at my flesh.
Wait. Where will these fishermen go if I sell this place?
“Gram’s recipe,” Izzy says, as she pours a generous amount of what looks like cream cheese icing over the top. She cuts them up and hands them out.
“Hey, Sam has more icing than I do,” Jason says, and she gives me that exasperated sigh again, but it’s easy to tell she loves it.
“See what I mean?” she says to me.
I grin, loving the comraderies between this eclectic group. Jason tries to switch buns with Sam, but Sam pushes him away.
“Fuck off, man.”
Nate was right. Sam does swear like a sailor. I steal a glance at Cody, but he’s too busy stuffing his face to involve himself in the fight. He seems more the strong, silent type to me.
“You can have another,” Izzy says. “You have to eat all of that one first.”
“Are you cold?” Nate asks quietly as he leans into me, his warm breath washing over my flesh. The little hairs on the back of my neck stand, dance a little, and sparks zap through my body. I take a fast breath and let it out slowly. My God, can the other people in the room see what this man’s proximity does to me? I run my hands over my arms to wash away the goose bumps that have nothing to do with the cold.
“I am.”
“I can help you light the fire in Gram’s room.” He shakes his head. “Wait, I guess I should start calling it your room.”
“I probably won’t be here long enough for it to really be my room,” I say. If I can sell the place sooner rather than later, that is. But I’m well aware that moving a place this time of year won’t be easy, but I’d like to be back home by December. “But yes, thank you. I’m not sure how to do it. Gram didn’t have a propane fireplace years ago.” I tear a piece of the bun and put it in my mouth. The flavor explodes on my tongue. “Izzy, these are amazing,” I say.
She beams at me. I know we’re going to get along just fine, which is nice. I don’t have many, or any, female friends. But I have exchanged emails with Khloe, a research professor at the local university here in Nova Scotia. She was interested in my theorem, and we talked for a bit. She said if I was ever in town to give her a call. I might make a trip to Dalhousie University and meet up with her, check out her research. It would be nice to have a female colleague.
I work to stifle a yawn, exhausted after a very long week of driving. As everyone chats around the table, Nate pipes in, “I don’t think we should keep Kira up any longer. She’s had quite the day.”
I turn to him. “I appreciate you saving me twice and showing me where to find the best seafood chowder. But you’re right—I am exhausted and think I’m going to call it a night.” Everyone nods, and I push my chair back. “Nate, if you wouldn’t mind helping me light that fire.”
Sam grabs a deck of cards from Gram’s old junk drawer, and my heart squeezes tight. How many times had Gram and I played cards around that same old table? A mixture of fond memories and loss tightens in my stomach.
“You okay?” Nate asks, his knuckles brushing mine as he steps up to me. Once again, I react, little jolts of need zinging