Page 31 of Sing Sweet Nightingale

“I’ve been taking them everywhere I go. Some around town as well.”

He takes the film boxes and starts ringing them up, typing the prices into a register without internet or a barcode scanner. I spot a credit card machine behind the counter that doesn’t look like it gets much use.

“Really? Any good ones?” His tone conveys true interest, not just polite conversation.

Flipping through my notebook, I pull out a couple of my favorites and lay them out one by one for him to see.

“I took this one of my coffee this morning. This one at Dottie’s when I first arrived. Then there’s the cabin I’m staying in.”

He nods and inspects each one as I lay them out. Smirking at one of the cabins, laughter evident in his eyes. Then I place the final photo down, the one of the wolf. He picks it up and holds it in front of his nose for a closer inspection.

“I took that one in the forest where I’m staying. The wolf was surprisingly tame. He let me take his picture, then even rubbed against me and let me pet him.”

“Really now?”

With the photo still held in his hand, he looks up at me in disbelief, eyebrows raising and the smile on his face amused. His dark eyes saying something I can’t decipher.

“Is that weird? I sure as hell thought it was weird, but when he didn’t bite or maul me, I figured maybe he was used to being around humans.”

“Oh, he’s definitely used to being around humans.”

Shocked at the familiarity in his words, I look at him, my forehead pinching in confusion.

“You know the wolf? Has he been around a lot?”

“He’s definitely familiar to the town. There are a lot of them in the woods, actually. We know them; they know us,” he explains nonchalantly like it’s a normal everyday thing to be friendly with wild wolves.

“So, I shouldn’t be afraid of him then?” I ask.

It would make me a lot more comfortable knowing that one interaction wasn’t a fluke and that if I cross paths with the wolf again, I don’t have to fear it. For some unknown reason, I’ve been feeling drawn back to the woods ever since meeting the wolf.

“Not at all.” The man looks me over, studying me. He grins as he sets the photo down on the counter with the rest of them.

“I’m sorry I never introduced myself.” He extends a hand across the counter to shake. “My name is Michael. I’m Hunter and Ginger’s father.”

“Seriously?” I blurt out before I can stop myself with my hand halfway to his, frozen in shock.

There’s no freaking way he’s Hunter’s dad. He can’t be that old. If I remember correctly, Ginger said they have anotherbrother who’s older than them both. He must have been really young when they were born.

Michael chuckles and doesn’t seem offended by my outburst. He closes the distance between our oddly outstretched hands, clasping mine in his. His hand is far larger than mine, and his grip is solid but gentle.

“Sorry. It’s just—you don’t look old enough to have a grown son as old as Hunter.”

“Well, thank you. We live a healthy life and stay active. I think that’s what keeps us young at heart.”

He releases my hand, and it drops uselessly, resting on top of my purse on the counter. What some people in LA wouldn’t pay to bottle whatever it is he’s using to stay young. It has to be something in the water because Dottie didn’t look as old as Ginger made her out to be, either.

“I actually just ran into your son before coming here,” I admit.

Michael doesn’t immediately speak. Just continues smiling and watching me.

“And, was he friendly?”

Odd choice of words, but whatever.

“Um, well, when we first met last night at the cabin, he tried to get me arrested for trespassing. But today, he was polite and helpful. I'm not sure he would consider us friends exactly.”

Michael chuckles, and it ends on an exacerbated sigh. “He can be a little uptight sometimes. He takes his position as mayor very seriously and doesn’t like when unexpected obstacles appear. New people in town always make him a little edgy. He’ll get over it.”

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