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“And another thing—” Ellie began, but something made her stop short.
She leaned forward, sniffing, then leaned in closer, until it was apparent that she was sniffing me. “Huh.”
I lifted my elbow and gave myself a sniff as well. “Shit. Sorry. It was a long flight. Now, here I am, stinkin’ up your house—”
“Never mind that.” Ellie leaned back, brow furrowed. She studied me like she was reading a sign in a language she’d once spoken but hadn’t used in a while. “Xander Miller, Xander Miller. What’s your mother’s name?”
“Marianne Miller. Marianne Morrow, before that.” Dropping the Morrow name gave me little pleasure. I didn’t love reminding people that I was related to my serial killer of a grandfather, but no one got to choose where they came from. It was what it was. “Why? You know her?”
“No. I’m sure it’s nothing.” The interest in her gaze said otherwise, but if she didn’t want to discuss my heritage, I was happy to let her drop it. I didn’t particularly want to hash that out, either. “If you want to take a shower, you’re welcome to one. I’ve made up the saguaro room for you. Denny will show you—assuming he still knows where it is.”
“Come on,” Denny said with a sigh, waving for me to follow him. “It’s just this way.”
“Nice family you’ve got here,” I said, genuinely meaning it.
I wondered what had kept him away.
Denny only grunted and scowled. “Mind your own business, Miller. Mom was just being polite. You do stink.”
* * *
The saguaro room, as far as I could gather, was named for the view. It was a mid-sized guest room with an en suite, a lot like the set-up of the rooms at Evergreen’s lodge. Outside the big picture window on the far wall, a giant cactus rose near the house, its three massive arms reaching skyward like the prongs of a big-ass trident rising from a dusty red-orange sea. Before I hopped in the shower, I snapped a pic of it and sent it to Felicity.
As the hot water sluiced over me, I was careful to scrub my pits twice and with plenty of soap. If Denny’s exceptional sense of smell was hereditary, inflicting my B.O. on Ellie Kerry was the last thing I wanted to do.
When I got out of the shower, Felicity had already responded to my text.
Kind of prickly for a dick pic.
I chuckled.
I emerged from my room dressed in fresh clothes and smelling like Irish Springs. When I wandered back into the kitchen, I found Shay at the stove while Mikey rocked a knife over a cutting board at the island. The delicious scent of toasted chilis, fresh cilantro, and tart lime permeated my senses.
“You settled in okay?” Mikey asked, glancing up at me.
“I am, thanks. You have a beautiful home. Feels…” I looked around, unsure of how to describe it. “Homey,” I finished lamely.
Shay and Mikey both laughed, and I found myself laughing along.
“Be sure to mention that around Denny next time you see him,” Mikey said. “Maybe it’ll remind him to come back more often.”
“Don’t, Mikey,” Shay chided. She shot him a look that made it clear they’d had this conversation before. “You know why he stays away.”
I glanced between them, curiosity tugging at me. Why did Denny stay away? He had a perfectly lovely family here. Was it because of his work?
My gaze settled on Mikey, hoping he’d notice my interest and explain, but he just rolled his eyes and continued chopping herbs.
“Well, thanks again for hosting me,” I said, eager to fill the sudden awkward silence. Whatever exchange had just passed between them clearly wasn’t meant for my ears. “I’m glad to be here.”
At Mikey’s chuckle, the tension vanished. “Beats the Strip, huh?”
“If we ever find ourselves on the East Coast, you can return the favor,” Shay said, tilting her skillet back and forth over an open flame. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the chilies she was toasting into the air. They gently plopped back into the skillet. “My dad is Frazer Fuller, alpha of the Broken Ridge pack, so I’ve spent my whole life here in Nevada. Hard to even imagine a place so green that someone named a town for it.”
“Of course,” I said, and meant it. I liked Denny well enough, even in spite of his grumpiness, but Mikey and Shay were far more personable. “My mate would love you. You’re all welcome in Evergreen anytime.”
“We might just take you up on that,” Mikey said. “How’s your mate holding up?”
“About as well as she can, given the circumstances.” I smiled as I thought about the response she’d sent to my cactus picture. We’d gathered up enough hope around us that she was making jokes again. It was progress.
