Page 33 of Here & There

“Your parents don’t seem like dog people,” he says finally.

And somehow, magically, that makes me laugh, dispelling any tension I created. “Nope.”

The house is even more beautiful inside. It’s a perfect mix of original features with some gorgeous upgrades. Wide-plank wood floors, warm white walls, and architectural features like crown molding and a pitched roof with exposed rafters. I hate myself for thinking about money, but the Dinghy can’t be doing too bad as-is if Mac can afford a home that could be on the front cover ofArchitectural Digest.

I follow Mac through the house to an expansive deck that overlooks the glittering blue ocean. To the right is most of a half-mile crescent of beach that ends with the Dinghy. In the distance beyond that, I can just make out the dock where the water taxi sits, gently rocking up against the tire bumper. To the left is an outcropping of rugged trees and rocks. Back up here, tucked into the trees, a tiny outbuilding that matches the main house except with a broad wood door abuts the edge of the deck.

“That’s it,” he says, indicating the little shed. There are windows up high, streaked with dirt. It’s the only part of the house that looks a tiny bit neglected. But it also looks adorable. I can picture it cleaned out, with a couple of deck chairs out front. Maybe a place for a nap in the rain if it was better cared for.

“Did it come with the place?” I ask, curious. It was clearly built after the house but made to match.

“We built it when I bought the place. I was fixing up the rest of it anyway.”

“We?”

“My dad and I.”

“For storage?” Even as I say it, I know it can’t be true. It’s too prominent a place for storage; plus there’re the windows.

When I look at Mac, he’s eyeing the building with an unreadable expression. “It was for my sister,” he says. I think he’s going to leave it at that—and I don’t want to pry—but he says, “There was a time she needed a place to crash pretty regularly. But she needed her space. So—she got this.”

So he’s a good brother too. I want to know more. What about his parents? Why couldn’t she crash there? Why did she need a place to crash in the first place? What about Nate’s mom? Where’s she?

Mac grimaces, and I know he can see my mind whirring.

“Okay, well, where do we start?” I ask, pulling up the sleeves to his sweater. “You want this back, by the way? Eventually?”

“No.”

“Really? It seems well worn. Like it’s special to you.”

“No, you’re not helping.”

“Oh, come on; I’m tougher than I look.”

“You look pretty tough to me.”

I laugh. “You haven’t seen me around wild animals.” I sober immediately. “Are there wild animals here?” The woods don’t look particularly menacing—birds chirp and fresh greenery waves in the breeze, but I’m a city girl.

“A few,” Mac says cryptically. I swear his mouth almost lifts a little in the corner.

I narrow my eyes. “Are you making fun of me?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

I rattle the barn door. “Is this solid?”

“Shelby. You want me to put a little bear bell in there?”

“Bear bell?”

“So you can ring it if you see one.”

“There arebears?” Alarm’s made my voice pitch awfully high. “Yes, I want a bear bell!”

He must see the actual fear in my face, because he says, “Hey, they’re not likely to come out here. But if they do, we’re right next door.”

I nod. “Okay, cool. Cool, cool, cool.” I clear my throat, walking around the deck. Down below, there’s a grassy area over the beach with a fire pit. If they’re sitting out here having fires, the place can’t be roaming with bears, can it?

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