“Tomorrow at nine thirty? Staff housing won’t be available for another week. Will that be a problem?”

I can’t tear my eyes from Byron. He’s come home just at the right time. I need to ask him if I can extend my stay.

“I’ll figure something out, no problem. See you tomorrow at nine thirty. And thanks, Sally,” I say hurriedly and hang up.

I take the four steps down from the porch as Byron heads back to his cabin. “Hey,” I say, holding up a brown paper bag from Marty’s Market. “I have celebratory hot chocolate. You want to join me?”

He turns, a look of uncertainty on his face. All of a sudden, I’m self-conscious that I’ve asked a perfect stranger over for hot chocolate. It’s not just because he’s so handsome and… magnetic or something, but I kind of don’t know how to be outside of my old life in Oregon. Am I being too friendly? Too enthusiastic? He’s the only person I know in Star Falls. And he’s a good guy. He’s been good to me and the least I can do is offer him a drink. Right?

Maybe that’s not how things work. Mom never allowed anyone in our trailer, so I’m not exactly practiced when it comes to extending invitations. Then again, I’m not in Oregon anymore.

He shrugs. “Sure. What are you celebrating?”

We take the steps up to my cabin.

“I got a job today. At the Colorado Club,” I say, excitement flooding back. I don’t know if it’s the job or Byron saying yes to the hot chocolate. There’s a lot to be excited about.

“Huh,” he says. “Well, congratulations.” He doesn’t sound impressed, but that doesn’t dull my happiness.

We head inside and it’s a little awkward, since I’ve essentially just invited Byron over to his own house.

“You never did tell me why you rented two cabins,” I say. I take a saucepan from the cupboard and fill it with milk before putting it on the stove.

“Thought I might need both.”

Is he being deliberately vague? What would he need two cabins for? But I shouldn’t pry.

“So, are you like me? Just passing through?” I ask, trying to get the conversation started.

Byron’s not a big talker. But based on the fact I survived last night without him taking an axe to my neck, I figure he’s at least not a murderer.

“I’m back here for work,” he says. “But I also grew up here.”

I grab a wooden spoon from the drawer and lean back against the sink while the milk heats. I don’t unzip my coat because I can almost see my breath in front of me, it’s so cold in here. “That’s cool. You can see family when you’re not working, then.”