Page 5 of Solstice

“That’s kind of formal, don’t you think? Given our history?”

She shrugged. “It’s been a long time.”

“So long you can’t even call me Jason anymore?”

She met his eyes and he saw something flicker. Regret, maybe. Interest, perhaps, he hoped. Her tone softened, as did her face. He thought a little of the stiffness left her body. “What can I do for you, Jason?”

“A cup of coffee would do for starters. If it’s fresh.”

“I stopped serving people at five, but you’re welcome to help yourself.”

“I’ll take it.” He tugged off his boots and then sock-footed his way across the kitchen, draping his coat over the back of a chair on the way. Then he took two mugs from the little wooden tree and filled them. He set them on the table, grabbed the cream from the fridge and sat down.

She sat down, as well. He poured cream into his cup, then passed it to her.

“Nope. I drink it black.”

“You didn’t used to.”

She frowned.

“Two sugars and a good long stream of half-and-half. But only if no real cream was at hand.”

She studied him for a long moment, her green eyes wide and searching. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

“I remember everything, Dori.” He shrugged and sipped his coffee.

It seemed to take her a moment to stop staring at him and find something to say again. He took that as a positive sign and told himself that was because he was a pathetic sap.

“What are you doing here, Jason?”

“It’s an official visit. You didn’t think I was here to ask you out again, did you?”

She shrugged. “It crossed my mind.”

“I’m not into masochism, Dori. You made it clear the first time that you didn’t have any interest in starting anything up with me.”

“With anyone,” she corrected.

“Right. Because you would only be here long enough to decide which big-city offer to accept, and then you’d be out of here so fast we’d see nothing but a copper-red streak.”

“Is that what I said?” She averted her eyes and drank her coffee instead of looking at him. He’d hit a nerve, he thought.

“That’s what you said. ’Course, that was damn close to a year ago.”

She sighed. “I get where you’re going with this. I’m still here, right? Did you come to rub it in? Gloat a little that the snotty city snob got knocked down a peg?”

He swore softly and that drew her eyes back to his again. He said, “Hey, it’s me. Jason. Do you remember anything at all about me?”

She frowned for a moment, then nodded twice. “You're right. You’d never gloat over my failed life. You’re not that kind. Never were.”

“Well, thank goodness you remember at least that much. I’ll tell you, Dori, city living made you cynical. Gave you a hard edge you didn’t used to have.”

“That’s probably true.”

He hadn’t come here to insult her, but he thought he just had. “I was only asking about your still being here because it makes me wonder if maybe your plans have changed.” He hoped to God she would say they had, but the misery in her eyes told him different even before she did.

Dori lowered her head. “My plans haven’t changed. But what I plan to do and what I can do are turning out to be further apart than I imagined.”

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