Chapter 10

Setting the book down, he walked to the dining room windows. All he could see was snow on the lawn, with the dark shapes of the trees along the edge of it. The same held true when he went through the ground floor, checking the other windows. As he did, he drew the curtains. If someone’s out there—which I doubt, but still—they won’t be able to watch me now. He didn’t really believe that was the cause of his disquiet, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

“It’s just nerves,” he told himself as he returned to his supper. “I’m not used to living on my own, so far from civilization.” He chuckled. “Now it sounds like I’m on a desert island, or in a cave on top of a tall mountain. I’m ten minutes from town, and around forty to fifty minutes from Denver, depending on the traffic.”

That thought helped settle him. He finished eating, did the dishes, and went back to the office. Booting up the laptop, he found the pictures he’d taken that afternoon and printed them out. He took them to the studio, where he pinned them on the wall beside one of the easels, got a fresh canvas from the rack, and began limning out an idea for a new painting, using the photos as inspiration.

It was close to eleven when he realized he was beginning to flag. He stepped back one more time to look at what he’d sketched out on the canvas, felt relatively satisfied with the result, and left the studio, flicking off the overhead lights.

The hallway was lit by four wall sconces that resembled flickering candles. He remembered back when he was a kid visiting his grandparents—imagining he was a knight in a castle when he’d come upstairs to bed. That image had been quickly dispelled when he got to the bedroom he’d slept in. The same one he was using now. It had been his father’s, before he went off to a private high school in Denver, and back then it had held the posters, sports equipment, and awards his father had amassed.

Now it was just a room with a comfortable double-bed, a dresser that been in the family since before his grandfather had been born in the early nineteen forties, and a small closet that was still large enough to hold Daniel’s moderate wardrobe.

After showering and putting on his pajamas, Daniel went to the window to see if it was still snowing. He whispered “Thanks,” when he saw that it had stopped. The moon was almost full, shining through the thinning cloud cover, making the snow glitter. As he scanned the area, Daniel’s gaze landed on a set of footprints at the edge of the tree line. There was no doubt they belonged to an animal. A large one from the size of the prints. A bear looking for something to eat. A smart one who figured out there was nothing here for him since the footprints come out of the forest, then go back in between the trees a few yards later.

That made him feel better, but on a hunch he went back to the studio. Without turning on the lights, he crossed to the windows to see if the animal had been on that side of the house. It had, and unless he was reading the tracks wrong, the bear had stayed there for a while, as the prints crossed and re-crossed each other several times. He was watching me? That would be really strange. I guess better a bear than a human. He shivered at that thought, because if someone was watching him, or the house, it could explain the weird feelings he’d been getting since he’d arrived a couple of weeks ago.

Naw, it’s just my over-active imagination.He returned to the bedroom, running through all the excuses he’d come up with, ticking each of them off as being valid reasons for his sense of unease at times. As he curled up in bed, he smiled. “Twelve hours and I’ll see Griffin again. Twelve hours and counting.” 4

“So did you snowshoe over?” Daniel asked with a grin as he let Griffin into the house.

“Not hardly. There’s barely any snow left except under some of the trees.” Griffin set his bow down by the door and removed the heavy wool jacket he was wearing, handing it to Daniel when he held out his hand to take it. While Daniel hung it in the coat closet, Griffin said, “It’s cold, but that’s about the size of it.”

Daniel pointed to the bow. “You’re planning on hunting up supper on your way home?”

Griffin detached the quiver of arrows from his belt, setting it down beside the bow. “Not planning on it, but if I run into a deer or a rabbit, I’m not about to lose the chance to add to my larder.”

“There’s a bear out there somewhere, too. He came by the house last night.”

Griffin frowned, asking warily, “You saw it?”

“No, but I saw the prints.” Daniel chuckled. “He spent a lot of time opposite my studio windows. I think he was checking me out.”

Relaxing, Griffin told him with a grin, “Any male would do that if they had an ounce of sense.”

Daniel’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Any male?”

“All right, any gay male. God only knows I have.”

Gulping, Daniel managed to get out, “You have?”

“Yep. Does that bother you?”

“I guess not, but we barely know each other.”

“Meaning that I can’t find you interesting in spite of that?”

“Well—no.”

Griffin smiled. “Sorry if I’m embarrassing you, but I figured I should get it out there since it seems we’ll be spending time together.”

Trying to gather together his scattered wits, Daniel said, “We will, but upstairs.” When Griffin grinned, Daniel turned three shades of red. “I mean in the studio.” He emphasized his words by walking rapidly upstairs, afraid if he said anything more he’d make more of a fool of himself than he had already. He heard Griffin’s footsteps behind him and for a second wondered if the man was watching his ass.