Page 43 of Mountain Man

“But they stayed.”

“Yep. The library is a block from the police station,” he added conversationally. “I used to go after school and read comics till my dad was done with work. That was my excuse, anyway. I always wanted to be close to the action. Such as it was.”

The humor in Reg’s voice and the playful twinkle in his eyes did something for me. Or maybe it was his woodsy scent and calming presence. I could blame my heightened awareness on my libido, but I wasn’t the type to pine over a casual fuck-buddy. Even the superhot, silver-fox variety.

I inclined my chin in the direction of the old man and his grandkids debating the merits of having a birdhouse in your garden. “Well, at least your dad doesn’t mind being here.”

“Hmph. For now,” Reg huffed. “One thing we have to be careful of is not to ask if he remembers something or insinuate that he should. If he starts to drift, I try to keep him focused on the here and now.”

“Got it. Quit worrying. It’s gonna be fine. We can do anything for an hour.”

Famous last words.

Mr. La Rue scowled as he sifted through the triangular pieces of wood in the box. “What the hell is this?”

“It’s a sample kit from the Mill Depot. Cooper asked us to try to make one of these to test it before they go on sale,” Reg replied, pulling a stool closer to his dad.

It was the fourth time he’d explained what we were doing. Reg didn’t lose his patience. The guy was amazing. So were his kids.

“Gramps, check mine out.” Gretchen had glued the walls together and was working on the roof. “It reminds me of a lighthouse we saw in Maine.”

“Maine,” Mr. La Rue repeated, eyeing a rectangular piece of wood. “This is crap. It needs to be sanded. The birds are gonna get splinters on their asses, for Christ’s sake.”

His grandkids chuckled quietly at the old man’s antics while Reg tossed an apologetic glance my way. I smiled and gave his dad a sheet of sandpaper.

Reg and Rhys redirected conversation to football, which turned out to be one of Mr. La Rue’s favorite topics. He idly sanded a house-shaped piece of wood while debating New England’s offensive line. As far as I could tell, his information was spot on. He knew the players and their stats, and even grumbled about his team’s unsuccessful trip to the Super Bowl last season.

“Mr. Fox was mad that no one bought his championship banners.” Rhys snickered. “We told him to save them for the Hornets. Our team is gonna be great this year. You should come to our games.”

Rhys was looking at me, but his grandfather replied first.

“I’ll be there,” Mr. La Rue stated. “My son plays for the Hornets. Reggie’s a tight end. He can catch anything. Foxy says he knows an agent who’s willing to come up to Wood Hollow and watch the boys play. Coop’s got a great arm, too.”

The twitch in Reg’s jaw was the only acknowledgment that his dad had lost the thread of conversation and slipped into another timeline. “Yeah, Dad. He does.”

Rhys and Gretchen met each other’s gaze, then proceeded to fill the void with commentary about their respective birdhouses. Rhys’s “sick” spaceship was assembled, and Gretchen’s lighthouse was almost there. She was busy gluing a fence around the perimeter and had sought her grandfather’s assistance. I eyed Reg clandestinely watching over them all and felt a tug of sympathy.

This shit was tough. And I felt like a creepy voyeur who’d invited himself to a private party. That wasn’t the case, but still…

A buzzing cell signaled that our hour was up. Rhys returned a text message and gave his dad a fervent look.

“We have to go,” Rhys said. “Thanks for having us, Mr. Gibbons.”

“Waylon,” I intercepted.

“Using a surname is a show of respect,” Mr. La Rue piped in. “Rhys knows his manners.”

Rhys smiled at his grandfather, seeming relieved that the memory-loss blip hadn’t escalated.

“Hey, this was fun,” I lied. “Based on your spaceship alone, I think I can safely report to Cooper that the birdhouses are gonna be a hit.”

Rhys nodded. “I have to paint mine, but yeah…these are cool.”

“So cute,” Gretchen agreed. “Should we take them home?”

“Up to you,” I replied. “You’re welcome to leave them for now and let the glue dry.”

“Good idea. Are you ready, Dad?” Rhys gave his father another beseeching look.