Strategy.
Observations.
Anything to control the temperature of a room.
Here she let it exist.
Daniel turned his mug between his hands.
Riley asked, “Does Sophie always make hot chocolate for strangers?”
“She makes it for anybody who looks cold.”
“That’s her system?”
“She decided people being cold is a solvable problem.”
Riley looked toward hallway.
“That’s a good way to be.”
Daniel nodded.
“She’s better than me.”
“You’re the one who opened the door.”
He looked toward the fire.
“You knocked.”
As if that absolved him of kindness.
Riley smiled.
Sometime after midnight, Daniel went to bed.
Riley remained on the couch listening to the stove settle and the wind drag snow against the roof.
Her phone displayed thirty-two unread messages.
She switched it off.
The world did not collapse.
That was the first surprise.
The second came two days later.
She returned.
Daniel saw the Triumph before he saw Riley.
The storm had cleared. The mountains stood sharp against a clean blue sky, every ridge heavy with fresh snow.
He was replacing brake pads on a pickup when the motorcycle entered the lot.
He told himself he had not been watching the road.
That was not entirely true.
Riley removed her helmet.
Her long blonde hair fell over her shoulders.
Today she wore fitted jeans, winter boots, and a pink knit top beneath her riding jacket.
She looked less frozen.
Still expensive somehow.
Not because of brands Daniel recognized.
Because some people looked as if the world normally opened doors before they reached them.
Sophie ran around the side of the garage before Riley had fully dismounted.
“Riley!”
She stopped herself three feet away.
Daniel noticed.
They had discussed personal space.
Riley crouched.
“Hi.”
“Gerald said you were coming back.”
“Did he?”
“I told him probably.”
Riley looked at rabbit tucked under Sophie’s arm.
“Very accurate.”
Daniel wiped his hands.
“You break something?”
Riley looked toward him.
“No.”
“Then?”
“I want to learn how not to.”
He stared.
She smiled.
“Motorcycle maintenance.”
“You came from Denver for a lesson?”
“I’m staying in Aspen.”
“How long?”
Riley looked toward mountains.
“I don't know.”
That answer should have made him cautious.
Instead he felt something suspiciously like relief.
He taught her fuel mixture first.
Then idle adjustment.
Riley was a quick learner, though not patient.
“What happens if I turn this too far?”
“You make it worse.”
“How much worse?”
“Depends.”
“I hate depends.”
“Machines don't care.”
She glared.
He enjoyed that.
Sophie built a snow fort near the lot and recruited Riley by lunchtime.
Daniel watched through the garage window while Riley Hargrove, whose boots probably cost more than his monthly grocery budget, knelt in snow packing a two-foot wall because Sophie had determined structural integrity required it.
Sophie shouted something.
Riley laughed.
Daniel stopped working for a moment.
Then returned to the truck.
Two days became two weeks.
Riley returned again and again.
Sometimes on the Triumph.
Sometimes in a rental SUV when snow was too heavy.
She brought nothing extravagant.
That surprised Daniel.
Coffee once.
A puzzle for Sophie.
A replacement set of gloves after Sophie lost hers.
She stopped offering to pay for every small thing.
Daniel stopped pretending he did not like seeing her.
Riley learned to adjust a carburetor.
She helped hang shelving.
She burned pancakes.
Then insisted on making another batch because failure annoyed her.
Sophie taught her Go Fish and defeated her four times.
Riley took losses personally.
“She's seven,” Daniel said.
“That is irrelevant.”
Sophie grinned.
At night, when Riley returned to her hotel, the house felt quieter.
Daniel hated noticing.