Shelter (Heroes of Big Sky 2)

“Seth King?”

I nod and bite into the bar and then blink in surprise. It’s not too sweet. It’s the perfect balance of salty and sweet and doesn’t make my teeth hurt.

I could eat the whole pan.

“Yeah,” I say after I swallow. “He’s a new friend of mine.”

“And a nice guy,” Annie replies. “Not to mention, pretty damn handsome, just like his daddy and uncle.”

“There is that. Does he look like them?”

“Carbon copy,” she confirms.

“The Kings must have an excellent gene pool.”

Annie laughs and sets the cut bars on a long, thin metal tray and then walks out to the glass counter to slide them in for display.

“You’re not wrong,” she says. “Anyway, yes, Mama opened this place in the early eighties. I practically grew up here. I sat in here and watched her bake or helped her with the soups and breads. I hated going to school because that meant I couldn’t be in here with her.”

“It’s in your blood.”

She turns a surprised look my way and then nods slowly. “Yes, I suppose so. I hadn’t thought of it that way before. Anyway, she comes in a few days a week to help me with the baking, or she gets the soups simmering for me.”

“Does she miss working?”

“Oh, yes.” Annie laughs and nods at a young woman who walks through the door and claims a table to set up her computer. “She’d still work every day if she could. But she’s older now and had a health scare last year. My dad is pretty good about keeping her reined in and makes sure she doesn’t overdo it. Hey there, Renee, what can I get you?”

“Just a cup of that corn chowder and an iced tea,” Renee says with a smile.

I watch Annie get the order together and take Renee’s money. The transaction is quick and friendly and looks pretty easy to me.

“There’s really not much to it,” Annie says after Renee returns to her table. “I just can’t do it all by myself.”

“Well, I’m happy to help,” I reply. “I mean, just being in here and smelling all of the delicious things for half of a day isn’t a hardship. My hips won’t be happy because there’s no way I can resist buying a meal before I leave, but that’s okay. It’s sweater weather. I can hide the extra ten pounds.”

Annie laughs and pats me on the shoulder. “I do like you, Remi. What would you like to take with you today? It’s on me.”

I pat my stomach that’s still full after Seth’s amazing breakfast. But having something for later would be nice.

“You know, that corn chowder sounds great.”

“Would you like some bread to go with it?”

“Absolutely. Let’s live dangerously.”

Whitetail Mountain is a ski resort in the winter and a hub of activities like downhill biking, hiking, and zip-lining in the summer. Most of the activities are closed for the season, but on the weekends, they still run the chairlifts for anyone who wants to ride up and bike down. Or hike up and ride down.

This afternoon, I’m going for the hike-up-and-ride-down choice. It’s quite an elevation gain, but I don’t mind it a bit. The trees up here are turning faster than the ones in town, and the air is cooler. My pace is quick as I climb the trail that leads to the summit.

Halfway up, I stop for a drink of water and gaze down to the town and lake below.

It’s just so…pretty. It looks sleepy and quiet down there. Like something from a Hallmark movie.

I smirk at myself and turn to keep climbing up. The trailhead said this hike is just under five miles, which is a good-sized hike for an afternoon.

An hour later, the building that houses a restaurant, pub, and viewing room comes into view. I can see the top of the chairlift and notice a few people hopping on for the ride down.

I take a few minutes to walk around and take in the mountains that seem to just wrap around and hug me. If I’m not mistaken, I can see into Glacier National Park, Canada, and as far south as Flathead Lake.

It’s a bright bluebird day with the biggest sky I’ve ever seen, and it’s all simply magical.

There’s so much to explore. So much to see. A person could spend their entire life here and never see it all.

I wander inside to buy a candy bar for the ride down, then walk over to the chairlift.

“You’re lucky,” the young man says as I approach. “This is the last chair down for the day.”

“Oh, geez. I didn’t realize it was that late. What time do you stop running them?”

“Five-thirty,” he says. “That way, everyone is down by six, and we all head home.”

“Well, now I know. Thanks.”

I hop on the chair. He lowers the bar in front of me, and I’m off.