“Why?”
He tried not to smile. She was a woman who would require reasons. “It’s a nice day, and I’d like to see a little of where I am. You could show me.”
She untangled the fingers she’d twisted together. Hadn’t she promised herself she would take time to enjoy herself? He was right. It was a nice day, and her work could certainly wait.
“You’ll need your shoes,” she told him.
***
There was a scent to the cool, slightly moist air. Pine, he realized after several moments’ mental debate. The scent was pine, like Christmas. But it came from the genuine article, not a scent disk or a simulator. The ground was thick with trees, and the breeze, though it was light, sounded through them like a sea. The clear pale-blue sky was marred only by the gray-edged clouds due north. There was birdsong.
But for the cabin behind them and a dilapidated shed, there were no man-made structures—just mountain, sky and forest.
“This is incredible.”
“Yes, I know.” She smiled, wishing it didn’t please her quite so much that he appreciated and understood. “Whenever I come here, I’m tempted to stay.”
He walked beside her, matching her pace, as they entered the sun-dappled forest. It didn’t feel odd being alone with her now. It felt right. “Why don’t you?”
“My work, primarily. The university wouldn’t pay me to walk in the woods.”
“What do they pay you for?”
“To research.”
“When you don’t research, how do you live?”
“How?” She tilted her head. “Quietly, I suppose. I have an apartment in Portland. I study, lecture, read.”
The path was steeper now. “For entertainment?”
“Movies.” She shrugged. “Music.”
“Television?”
“Yes.” She had to laugh. “Sometimes too often. What about you? Do you remember what you like to do?”
“Fly.” His grin was quick and charming. She hardly noticed when he took her hand. “There’s nothing else like it, not for me. I’d like to take you up and show you.”
Her expression was bland as she glanced at the bandage on his head. “I’ll pass.”
“I’m a good pilot.”
Amused, she reached down to pick a wildflower. “Possibly.”
“Absolutely.” In a move that was both smooth and natural, he took the flower from her and slipped it into her hair. “I had some trouble with my instruments, or I wouldn’t be here.”
Because the gesture threw her off, she stared at him for a moment before she began to walk again. “Where were you going?” She slowed her pace as Cal dallied, picking wildflowers along the trail.
“Los Angeles.”
“You had a long way to go.”
He opened his mouth, fooled for a moment into thinking she was making a joke. “Yes,” he finally managed. “Longer than I anticipated.”
Hesitantly she touched the blossom in her hair. “Will someone be looking for you?”
“Not for a while.” He turned his face to the sky. “If we find my... plane tomorrow, I can assess the damage and go on from there.”