Ethan cranked up the engine once more and Gracie giggled as we burst up the incline. There was a long moment of silence, during which I scrambled to find something to say. Anything to make me sound interesting, enticing. I was incredibly conscious of the sweat that had bubbled up on my forehead. I swiped at it, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

“Do you guys live up here?” I asked, hardly able to recognize my own voice.

“We do,” Ethan said. “We’ve lived up here for a few years now. Gracie doesn’t even remember another world. She’s my little mountain girl.”

Gracie gave me a side smile, peering up at me with incredible innocence. I felt my stomach shift. It had been a long time since I’d interacted with a child, and I wondered if my years in the courtroom had hardened me, made me unapproachable. Although I’d always longed for children, I felt a sense of nervousness around Gracie.

“It’s gorgeous up here,” I sighed, returning my gaze to the pine trees around us. “I swear, I haven’t left the city in years.”

“That would drive me wild,” Ethan said. “I need to feel like I can breathe. I’ve lived in cities, in towns, everywhere. But I don’t feel more like myself than when I’m up here in the woods.” He paused, listening to the crackling radio. “What drew you here in particular?”

“Erm…” I paused, remembering the day I’d been half-crazed, slightly drunk, pointing a finger at the various national parks surrounding the city. “I think it was the right distance from everything I knew. It was far enough away that I wouldn’t just turn around the minute I got here.”

“You’d have to stick it out,” Ethan affirmed. “Now, with your car troubles, looks like you really can’t run back.”

I shot my finger toward the front, pointing. “There’s my cabin,” I said. “Tucked away into the trees, there. You see it?”

“A-ha.”

Ethan eased the truck down the gravely driveway, parking it beneath a large pine. Its limbs whipped above it, taking on the crisp, evening wind.

Knocking my elbow against the door, I opened it, adjusting my crackling paper sack. I blinked into the truck at the two of them—Ethan and Gracie, who, as I looked at them closer, began to resemble one another more and more. They were a perfect father-daughter pair. I wondered in the back of my mind where Gracie’s mother was, but with a brief glance at Ethan’s hand, I saw that he wore no ring.

Suddenly, without being entirely conscious of it, I began to develop a plan. I should’ve known better. I could have talked myself out of it, probably, if I hadn’t been so hungry and fatigued. But all at once, I was leaping off the edge, into the unknown.

“Why don’t you come inside?” I said, surprising even myself. “I’d love to cook dinner for you both as a thank you.”

Ethan’s lips pressed together firmly, into a flat line. I could already read the “no” in his mind.

I took a tentative step back, feeling flustered. He was wary of me. He’d come into the mountains to be left alone, and I was asking him to step into my world.

In the silence that followed my question, my tongue traced my teeth, over and over again, wishing I could plot my way back to the inside of the cabin, to return to my weekend of solitude. I never did anything like this. Why on earth had I attempted bravery now?

But Gracie bucked up, unbuckling her seat belt. “Oh, what are you making for dinner?” she asked, her eyes glittering.

“Gracie, you know we need to get back home,” Ethan said.

Gracie whipped her head around, flashing her blond ponytail.

“For what?” she asked.

“You know we can’t push ourselves into Serena’s vacation,” Ethan offered, his voice sounding unsure.

“Don’t be silly,” I said, brightening my smile. “I have plenty of food and wine, and I’d love to share it. I even brought chocolate.” I gave this additional tidbit to Gracie, who leapt up from her seat. She danced slightly on the sidewalk, her knees bobbing together.

“Daddy, she really wants us to come. Why not? I don’t want to go home. You were going to make fish sticks.” She stuck out her tongue, looking like a cartoon version of herself. I felt laughter bubbling up in my stomach.

Ethan cut the engine, exhaling deeply. With a jolt, he pushed open the door of his truck and stepped out, his boots crunching on the gravel. This sound alone made shivers rustle up and down my spine. Now that I’d offered, and he’d agreed, I couldn’t turn back.

So often, people took chances that changed the course of their lifetime. I tried to tell myself, in a flurry of thoughts, that this wasn’t one of those times. That this was just dinner, for a man who’d helped me out. It couldn’t feel bigger than that, even though my heart swelled.

After he pushed the door closed, he marched to our side of the truck, looking at me with those dark blue, penetrating eyes. He seemed dominant, powerful, a force to be reckoned with. I took a tentative step back, my stomach feeling tense.

“All right then,” I whispered, ducking my head toward the cabin. “Why don’t you come in? I’ll pour the wine. Gracie, you want some juice?”

My voice was no longer my own. It didn’t have the certainty of a defense attorney, nor did it sound like the city girl I’d been my entire life.

I shuffled toward the house, feeling uneasy on my feet, and opened the door. Splaying the groceries on the counter, I listened as Gracie and Ethan entered behind me.

Gracie flumped onto the bed, mere feet away from the kitchen, and wiggled her feet back and forth. With a small cackle, she said, “Your bedroom is in your kitchen!”

Feeling warmed, I turned toward her, the wine opener in my hand. I began to uncork the bottle of red, grinning.

“When it’s just me, I don’t need so much space!”

“I guess that’s true,” Gracie said, giving me a shrug. “I don’t need anything else but my bedroom. Has enough room for my toys and stuff. Dad’s got the big room.”

“We can trade when you get enough toys, squirt,” Ethan said, grinning.

He took a step forward and began to unpack the brown paper sack, drawing out vegetables, bread, cheese, and oil. With the certainty of someone who’d been in the cabin before, he reached for the first cabinet and drew out a skillet. After placing it on the stovetop, he drew out a small matchbook and struck it, opening the gas and beginning to heat the bottom of the skillet.

Having been single for longer than I cared to admit, it had been years since I’d watched a man do something so intimate yet so normal for me. He poured the olive oil into the skillet, lifting his muscular forearm. After snapping the lid on the oil, he reached for a knife and cutting board, sending a whistle into the air. Perhaps he didn’t notice I was staring at him. Or, perhaps he did, and he didn’t care.

“Your daddy knows how to cook,” I told Gracie, filling the silence.

Gracie bobbed her head. With a quick motion, she undid her ponytail and allowed her blond curls to fall. “Don’t let it get to his head,” she laughed.

As I poured the glasses of wine, I fell into conversation with Gracie, listening to the sizzle of the vegetables as Ethan tossed them into the skillet. I passed him a glass, and he didn’t thank me, choosing instead to be a silent force behind me. Gracie began to tell me tales of her first grade class, which had just begun the previous week.

“We’re learning about coloring right now, which is silly,” she sighed. “I’ve known how to color since I was four.”

“Oh, so long ago,” I said, hopeful she didn’t pick up on my teasing. Two years ago had been just a few minutes ago, at least in my eyes. But for Gracie, it had been an entire lifetime.

“I just know I’m the best colorer in my class,” Gracie continued, sipping at the juice I’d poured her. “I don’t need any more help. I’m going to be an artist,” she continued.

“Oh?”

“Like Picasso,” she said decisively.

I glanced back at Ethan, loving the fiery passion of this little girl. I nudged him with my elbow, making eye contact.

“How’s it coming back here? Did you hear that you’re the father of the next Picasso?”

“If she ever leaves California for Spain, I’ll hunt her down,” he said, his eyes glowing. “This Picasso isn’t leaving the West Coast.”

“Daddy!” Gracie said, laughing. “He doesn’t want me to grow up.”

“You never should,” I told her. After nudging Ethan, I interrupted his stirring of the vegetables, saying, “I was meant to be the one cooking. Not you.”

“Got carried away,” Ethan said, taking a step back. He passed me the spatula and gripped his glass of wine, giving me another steamy look, which I couldn’t quite identify. I began to butter the bread, turning on the oven beneath the stovetop, and chopping up garlic.

“I hope you like garlic bread,” I told them, feeling my heart hammer in my chest. Why was this man making me so anxious?

“So you said you’re just escaping the city?” Ethan asked. He leaned heavily against the counter, sipping the wine. “Needed an escape from your normal life?”

“Something like that,” I said, placing the pieces of bread on a large baking sheet and slotting them into the oven. “I’m a defense attorney, and I noticed the stress creeping in on me. Years were passing, and I needed to do something for myself, you know? Anything.”

“You should try coloring!” Gracie called from the bed, bringing a grin to my face.

“I don’t suppose your dad’s all that into art, is he?” I asked.

“He’s pretty good, but not as good as me,” Gracie said, sounding wonderfully serious, in the way of young kids.

I gave Ethan a sneaky smile, hoping he would return it. He didn’t. But his eyes seemed to shine with a kind of light, an assurance that he was safe, happy, relaxed in my little, rustic home.