felt like he could turn to? It seemed wrong for him to be going through this all alone. Then again, he kind of understood. Grief was isolating.
Anyway. “You want me to try and mark this on your real map?” At James’s nod, Hunter reluctantly stood up from the bed and got a pen from the desk. Then he knelt on the floor in front of James and spread the real map out. James slid onto the floor beside him, watching as he held the hand-drawn map in his hand to compare landmarks. After a minute he started to trace the boundaries, explaining as he went. “Looks like the property line runs east along the north fork of Broken River for about three miles here. Then down this valley to Bone Mountain. West along this ridge. Back up to Broken River. And that’s it.”
“That’s it,” James echoed, sounding impressed.
Hunter sat back on his heels, considering the map. James’s land was a sprawling, irregular shape, drawn along natural features. As he’d suspected, it shared a border with Deenie’s property. But it was so big, it actually grazed Hunter’s, too. He tapped the area in question. “That’s me.”
James smiled a little. “Neighbors.”
“Uh-huh.” Hunter thought back again on his conversation with Deenie, how she’d taken pains to point out not only that the tribe had some rights to the land, but that it was nobody’s business who might be living on it. “You know, land’s complicated out here,” he said cautiously. “There’s a lot of history, between settlers and tribes and the government and the timber companies…and things outside the law, like I was saying this morning. You really gotta be careful.”
James was nodding along as he spoke, but his eyes were fixed on the map. “Uh-huh.”
That was not at all reassuring. But then Hunter remembered something obvious. “Hey, I’ll be out fishing tomorrow with my grandma’s best friend. I could try and ask some more questions, if you want. She’s an old-timer, born and raised in Woodstock.”
“Really?” James looked hopeful, then hesitant. “Could you ask without mentioning me? I mean with the land, and everything, I don’t know…”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Thank you.” James was now gazing at him in the kind of dreamy, contemplative way that only a drunk person would do so boldly. “You’re going fishing with your grandma’s best friend?”
“Mm-hm. Tail end of Chinook season.”
“Could you be any cooler?”
“Is that cool?” Hunter smiled a little and rose to his feet, noting that James suddenly looked sad again…or disappointed? Stop dreaming. “You gonna stay in tonight?”
“I guess so.” James mumbled, and held up his hand.
“Guess so, huh?” Hunter grasped it, pulling him carefully to his feet and putting a hand on his lower back to steady him. “I gotta go home and worry about you walkin’ in front of another log truck?”
“No.” James walked with him to the door. “Was it that bad?”
“Yeah, it was.”
“I’m sorry,” James mumbled regretfully. “And thank you. And for last night. And tonight, again.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it. Seriously.” Hunter opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, though he suddenly felt conflicted. What if James did want him to stay? What if he didn’t want to be alone? What if he shouldn’t be alone? It was tricky, feeling so intimately worried about someone he barely knew. Maybe he should say something…
“Hey, Hunter.”
Hunter turned back. James had leaned out after him, hanging his weight on the doorframe, troubled eyes staring intently from beneath that shining tousle of dark hair.
“I’m sorry I made you come up,” James said quietly. “Not sorry you were here. But sorry you had to help me out, again.”
Hunter stepped back toward the doorway to study him, bemused by the serious, repentant look on his face. Did James actually think he minded? “I didn’t have to do anything,” he said after a moment. “And you don’t have to be sorry.”
“Okay,” James murmured, his stormy gray eyes holding on Hunter’s face. Then he grasped the front of Hunter’s shirt and tugged him forward.
Hunter took a breath of pure surprise when James’s lips met his, and everything else disappeared.
Suddenly all that existed was the warm silk of James’s mouth, the dark tinge of bourbon on his tongue, his soft intake of breath. Hunter’s lips parted and slipped into the first beat of the kiss, then the second, then the third. James made a low sound of pleasure, and Hunter dazedly reached for his waist…
Then came a cough, and footsteps on the stairs. They pulled apart quickly,