Page 41 of Apex of the Curve
The warm glow of firelight ahead was a beacon in the dark. My headlights swept over Fenris holding his hands out to the flames, his father, Vyking, standing nearby at the fireside, a large one of my mugs of what I assumed was coffee in one hand, the other stuffed in the pocket of his jeans.
I pulled up and put my car in park, meeting Fenris’ eyes as he came around the fifty-five-gallon steel drum that the flames licked out of.
“Hi,” he called out gently as I stood up. I smiled over the roof of my car at him.
“Hi,” I echoed.
“You look beat.”
“I am,” I said honestly.
“Busy night?”
“Oh, about twenty or so, so yeah; busy, but good.”
He smiled. “And y’all just sit around, drink wine, and paint?” he asked.
“And talk, and laugh,” I said with a light chuckle.
“That’s nuts,” he said with a rueful look and a shake of his head. I shut my car door and the dome light went out, plunging his features into darkness, back lit as he was by the fire.
My breath plumed the damp night air, and I shivered with a stuttering involuntary breath at the sharp autumn chill as I went around the front of my car to join him.
He hugged me almost immediately and I laughed a bit, nervously, but I hugged him back, the leather of his jacket and vest slick and chilly beneath my fingers and my cheek as he gave me a squeeze.
“Hungry?” he asked, turning to walk beside me, arm around my shoulders.
“Yeah, starving actually.”
“Food’s in the kitchen, warming in the oven,” Vyking declared.
“You guys always have fires out here like this?” I asked as Fenris and I stopped by the cheery blaze. I held out my hands and soaked up the warmth it had to offer.
“Meh, seemed a shame to waste the coals from the barbecue,” Vyking declared. “Perfectly good to get a fire going out here.” He kicked the side of the drum with his thick-soled boot.
“You wanna head inside or hang out here for a bit?” Fenris asked.
“Uh, I’m good with either,” I said sighing.
“How hungry are you?” he asked.
I chuckled lightly. “Famished.”
“Go on in, then,” Vyking said on a yawn. “I don’t need you to keep me company.”
I nodded and Fen went for the door leading through the mud room and into the back of the kitchen.
“I’ll probably go right to bed after,” I said.
“Oh, well, g’night then,” Vyking said and it was ambivalent – neither disappointed nor pleased.
“Thank you for fixing me dinner and keeping it warm,” I said.
“Don’t mention it,” he said affably.
“Goodnight,” I murmured.
“Night, honey.”
