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The places I used to stay with my dad were fine. A little old-fashioned, and slightly pokey, but I didn’t mind them, given the location. This place though — it’s so modern. Exposed wooden beams all over. Open plan. A wooden ladder leading up to a bed in the loft. The kitchen is all handcrafted from wood, with tiny marks engraved onto the cabinet doors, and beautiful wood-paneling across every wall. The apex roof has skylights in it, so you can see the stars, and it gives the place a light, airy feel — yet it’s so cozy at the same time. There’s a fire burning in a living room area, with an animal skin rug on the floor, and, on the ceiling, there’s a chandelier made from deer antlers.
‘This is very impressive,’ I say. ‘You honestly built this place all by yourself?’
‘It’s a work-in-progress,’ says Finn. ‘I keep adjusting things, tryna get it just how I like it.’
I look at the wall to my left, filled from floor to ceiling with bookshelves, stuffed with books. ‘Wow. I didn’t have you down as a reader.’ I run my finger along some of the spines. ‘Home improvement books. Cookbooks. Detective novels. Really? You like crime fiction?’
Finn shrugs. ‘Don’t mind it,’ he says. He walks over to the kitchen. I get the feeling he’s embarrassed. Doesn’t want me finding out about his life so easily. I guess it’s not fair, when there’s nothing of me here. I can keep everything about myself a secret from him if I want, whereas his whole life is laid out for me to see.
‘Can I get you a glass of water?’ he asks me.
‘Do you have any Scotch?’ I ask. I always used to love the smell of my dad’s Scotch when we came into the mountains. Smelt of smoke and earth and spun sugar. I know I was a little hungover this morning, but I could manage a drop or two… Plus, after the day I’ve had, a little tipple wouldn’t be so bad.
‘Nope,’ Finn says firmly. ‘Your choice is pretty much water or water.’
‘I’m twenty-one,’ I say. ‘It’s legal.’
Finn raises his eyebrows. ‘I’m not playing Sheriff, darlin’. I just don’t have anything else to offer.’
Really, Mr. Bug Spray? Or is it that you don’t want to waste fancy liquor on yours truly?
‘I wasn’t sure what time you’d be arriving. Or whether you’d be hungry. So I fixed us up some chili, and it’s keeping warm in the oven, just in case. Want some?’
Just hearing the word ‘chili’ makes my stomach growl. ‘Yes please. That’s really kind of you. Thank you.’
‘Well, you’re my guest. Gotta keep my guest fed and watered, don’t I?’
‘You make me sound like a dog,’ I say, stifling a laugh.
‘Speaking of which, you haven’t met Eric yet.’ He draws his lips back, baring his teeth, and whistles. ‘Come on, boy. Stop sleeping, lazybones.’ I notice a dog bed not far from the fire now, and a tiny dog in it, just waking up.
Okay, I’m giggling now. ‘That’syour dog? You’re, what, six foot tall, and you have, like, the tiniest dog in the world as your pet?’
The dog blinks its big black eyes at me, and its little pink tongue flicks out of its mouth, up toward its nose. I giggle again. It really is cute. It’s mostly black, with ruffled, chestnut whiskers around its mouth, and, as it gets out of its bed, stretching, I see it has a chestnut underside too.
I love this freaking doggy.
‘This is Eric,’ says Finn. ‘He’s a Brussels Griffon. And he’s six.’
‘Eric?’ I say, trying to hide a smirk.
So, you’ve got a dog’s name, and your dog’s got a human name?
I don’t say that out loud. I bend down and reach out to the dog. He comes trotting over to me and I give him a pat. I always wanted a dog. Not a small one like this. A golden retriever or something. But, as I give Eric a stroke, watching his funny little button eyes, and his pink tongue, flicking up to its nose as it licks my hand, I can see the appeal.
‘He likes you,’ says Finn. ‘He doesn’t do that to just anyone.’
‘Oh yeah? How do you normally treat strangers, Eric?’
‘Well, he has been known to pee on them,’ says Finn, taking the chili out of the oven.
I snort with laughter, wondering whether Eric ever decided to use my sister as a toilet. I would ask Finn, but I’m too distracted by the smell of the chili. I go over to the kitchen counter, and Eric follows. Then, he trots over to his dish on the floor and starts crunching on kibble. Atta boy, Eric.
‘This smells incredible,’ I say, looking at the bubbling hot dish. I can smell ground beef, tomato, oregano, cumin. My mouth waters.
Finn puts two heaped spoonfuls into a bowl and hands it to me with a fork. No ceremony here, but I don’t care. This is just what I need.
‘You get started,’ Finn says, placing his bowl on the counter opposite mine. ‘I’ll just grab your stuff from the car. It’s all in the trunk, I take it?’
