GAME ON - GoM 2

5

**picture: Newhalem, WA

Tom showed at the door when Alex killed the engine. He wore his heavy-duty cotton pants and a flannel that looked like a million bucks on him. He was right out of the shower, no trace of the tough night he'd had with the rescue party. She tried to not stare at him as he came down from the porch, but she couldn't keep her heart from beating faster, like every time she saw him. Jeez, she hated being so head over heels for him.

When she climbed down from the Hilux, Tom had already fetched her backpack from the back of the truck. He nodded at the open front door with a quick smile and led the way. Alex controlled her curiosity, walking into the house where he'd lived his whole life. Everything was neat and sort of formal, like him, and also welcoming. Something about the dark wood and his parents' heavy furniture, she thought.

"Kitchen straight ahead. Beer in the fridge. Be right back," Tom said, heading to the stairs with her backpack.

Alex followed his directions. But as soon as he was out of sight, she sprinted out to the Hilux, grabbed the long, slim case Pete McKayne had crafted for her and made it back inside right before he came down the stairs.

Tom found her in the kitchen, standing by the window over the corner, looking out. The wooden case was on the table, but he didn't even glance at it on his way to stand by her side.

"Nice view," she said in a casual way, nodding at the river that ran right past the line of trees that marked the end of the backyard.

"Yeah, soothing," he said. "Did you have any trouble getting here?"

She fought back a chuckle. She'd brought him a present in a custom-made case and he hadn't even seen it. "Not at all. But I think all of Newhalem knows I'm here."

"You bet. If you thought Bold Peak's a small community, try fifty souls."

They talked as if they were estranged cousins meeting for Christmas. It was always like that. Whenever they got together, they seemed to need a while to relax around each other.

"Your birthday's next month, right?" she said.

Tom nodded as he grabbed two beers from the bridge. He found her little smile when he looked up to hand her a can. He saw her eyes move to the table, looked that way and finally spotted the case.

"Happy birthday in advance," she said softly.

Tom approached the table with caution, as if expecting to hear something ticking inside the case, and hesitated before opening it. And when he did, he frowned.

"What... What's this, Alex?" he whispered, his eyes nailed to the content of the case.

"Try it," she replied.

Tom hesitated again. His fingers slid with reverence along the smooth, elegant lines of Bootter's long bow.

"Grandpa used to call it Ulysses," she said.

He took the bow out of the case as if it were a newborn baby, still trying to believe his eyes. He stretched the string carefully and took the bow to his face, recalling the one time he'd tried it, back in November at Bootter's workshop. He breathed deep, loosened the string and put the bow back in the case.

"I can't accept it, Alex," he said, dead serious.

But she smiled wider—she expected his reaction. "Look, Tom, Claire and I can't use it. It's a shame, having it locked up in Grandpa's workshop, dusting up. Keep it, use it. That's what it was made for."

Tom held her eyes, frowning, all his 'must' battling his 'want'. At the same time, he tried to grasp the real value of the present. Because Alex was giving him something cherished by one of the persons she'd loved most in her life. His hand moved on its own accord to caress her face. She tilted her head to follow his touch. A moment later he was holding her in his arms and kissing her hair.

"Thank you," he muttered.

Alex looked up at him with a warm smile and stood on her tiptoes to reach his lips.