“You do know the men are here, so that grill is for sissies. Real men cook meat outdoors,” Jess replied.
Taking the Pringles cannister with him, Jace proved his brother’s point by saying, “I’ll fire up the grill.”
Jason went outside.
Mutely, I turned to Bohannan.
“Pick your battles,” he advised.
He then moved to his daughter and kissed the side of her head.
I watched this knowing there was already a battle I’d selected.
But I needed reinforcements.
Since I was now living there, that morning, before I drove up to pack and properly (if temporarily) move in, I’d helped myself to the Bohannan house.
I’d found there was nook nor cranny that had not felt the touch of Grace Bohannan.
Translation: Bohannan did everything in his power to make every inch of her environment something that made her happy, something that made it hers, so that she would settle into that home with her family and give as good as she got.
I had a life where I’d cruised on luxury yachts and stayed in castles as a guest of people who owned castles.
This was not that.
Bohannan was not a billionaire.
But everything was high-quality, if not luxury, and as mentioned, Grace had great taste. She put her stamp on things, but she did it with an eye to keeping her boys comfortable.
Her bedroom was a somewhat different story.
I’d been so jubilant after Welsh was caught, I hadn’t poked around.
But that day, I discovered not only was Bohannan’s bedroom pretty danged rad, his closet was sweet (though, no windows or window seat). His bathroom was a dream.
And the private sitting room off to the side, which had floor to ceiling windows that fully opened to the elements, had a direct view to the lake and a modern Juliet balcony, was pure sanctuary.
This was where we found ourselves after dinner, again not making out, but perfecting the art of cuddling, luxuriating in that with the windows open, the fresh air coming in, blanket tucked around us providing insulation, and body heat doing the rest.
“What’s with the mist?” I asked.
He chuckled. “Took you long enough.”
“Sorry?”
“Usually, if it’s fall and winter, people ask that right off the bat.”
“I had other things on my mind.” I reminded him.
“Hydrothermal springs.”
I took my head off his shoulder to look at his face.
“Seriously?”
A nod.
I stated the obvious. “It’s huge.”
Another nod. “Yup. There’s a band of them along the bottom. All year long, no matter how cold it is outside, there are spots in the lake that feel like summer. Sayin’ that, there are spots where it’s colder. It’s just that, there are enough of the hot ones, it heats the whole lake, so when the outside temperature drops, and the air hits the water, mist forms. It doesn’t go away from October to March, sometimes September, if we get cold early like this year, and April, if we stay cold late. And if it’s very cold, it’s just straight up fog throughout this whole valley.”
“And thus the name, Misted Pines.”
“Yeah, and that’s what the Okanagan called it, translated to English.”
“Okanagan?”
“The Methow and Okanagan tribes lived on this land. Now they live southeast on the Colville Reservation.”
“Right,” I muttered.
“Also, that’s the name of the really big lake, east of here.”
“I’m afraid my Washington state geography isn’t all it should be.”
“We’ll get you there.”
“Mm.”
“The indigenous tribes thought this was a spiritual place. Used it in healing. After it was taken from them, stories turned. Early settlers thought it was haunted. Or cursed. Tales told of people boating into the mist, never returning.”
“I’ll note at this juncture, neither the real estate person nor the FBI shared these stories with me.”
He smiled and cuddled me closer. “Then there’s the story of Cornelius Ruck.”
Of course there was.
“His name was not Cornelius.”
Another smile. “It was. Wealthy fur trader and local big man. Cornelius would meet his mistress at a cabin he built at the side of the lake. He did this until his wife followed him, carrying a pistol. Allegedly.”
“Allegedly?”
“Allegedly. The cabin burned down. Nobody inside. Mrs. Ruck was seen rowing into the mist, where she disappeared. She was not seen rowing out of it. But the day after the fire, she was doing her normal business in town. Folks found it interesting she didn’t report her husband missing until days later.”
“And Cornelius, and his, I’ll note unnamed, mistress?”
Now a grin and he gestured to the windows. “Never seen again, but they’re out there, haunting the lake.”
“Something to know about me.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m not good with ghost stories.”
“Then you picked the wrong town, baby.”
That sounded ominous.
“I don’t want Celeste dating Will,” I blurted.
That had not been the way I’d rehearsed it.
His brows flew up.
“I intended to preface this by saying, you and I are bonding. She and I are bonding. The boys and I are bonding. But I understand my place here. I’m new. We’ve officially kissed once.”