Page 2 of Make Mine Sweet
“That’s not the question you should be asking.”
Maybe not. What I look like isn’t high on my priority list anymore. Nothing really is.
“What brings you by?” I try to put some friendliness in it, but it comes out an accusation. Typical of Amy, she ignores my caustic tone.
“I was talking with Mitchell Choi yesterday. I told you about his business, Horizon Hikes. He said they’re looking to hire more guides.”
I make not a single sound. Even a grunt of acknowledgement would encourage her to keep talking. She knows I haven’t led anyone on so much as a walk around my back yard since I lost my left leg two years ago.
She waits, her eye contact too pointed to miss. “Seems like an opportunity you would want to know about.”
I cross my arms and stare her down. “I’m out of that business.”
She knows that, too, since it’s why I came to Oregon. I couldn’t keep haunting the successful guiding company my brothers and I had built in Colorado, always present but unable to do anything meaningful. I haven’t been any more useful here, but at least my brothers and employees don’t give me cheerful smiles to cover up their pity twenty times a day.
Losing my leg took an adjustment, but I learned to adapt. It’s just meat. But losing my career? My reputation? Everything that made me who I was? I haven’t figured out how to adjust to that.
She doesn’t flinch away from my glare. “There’s always that wilderness camp for kids. They’re hiring counselors ages seventeen and up. Pretty sure you qualify.”
I snort. “I don’t think I’m real suited to taking care of kids.”
“Join a book club at the library.”
“I’m not an official resident.”
She sighs all the air from her lungs. “Explore the town. It’d be good for you to have a break from this apartment now and then.”
“Dutch is offended.”
She points a finger at me. “That right there. You need more company than that dog.”
I look to where my trusty companion made himself comfortable on the couch. He’s a big, brown mutt with strangely perceptive eyes and the dopiest doggie grin. He slurps his tongue into his mouth, unbothered by Amy’s slights.
“Agree to disagree.”
Dutch only judges me when I don’t share my food with him. But people? They’re full of pointed questions, sorrowful gazes that follow me everywhere I go, and whispered gossip about everything I’ve lost. I’ll stick with my dog, thanks.
Something out the window behind me catches her eye. The tiniest smirk hits her mouth before she chases it away again. “Well. You know best. Come meet your new neighbors.”
She moves past me to the front door, but I freeze. “My newwhat?”
“Neighbors.” She says the word nice and slow so I don’t miss a syllable. “They’re moving in today.”
Today? “But you said…”
She arches that eyebrow at me again, refuting everything I thought we’d discussed. “I said we had no plans to let the unit next door as a short-term rental anymore. I never said we wouldn’t rent it out long-term.”
She walks outside, leaving me standing here with my mouth open. A long-term renter? I pull a hand down my face, searching for calm. Beggars can’t be choosers, but I’ve had a real good set up here.
I like that the duplex sits at the end of a long lane few people have a reason to drive up. I like that it rests at the edge of the foothills near a short hiking path—I appreciate the views, even if I don’t often use the trail. I especially like that the unit next door has been empty for the last three months.
I step out onto the front porch next to Amy, Dutch following close behind. A blue station wagon sits a space away from my SUV. I stare at the wagon, but sunlight glare prevents me from seeing who’s inside.
“I’m not real sociable lately,” I mutter under my breath.
Amy laughs. “I’ve noticed.”
“I like my privacy.”
