"Oh my god, it's scratching at the door. Can it get in?"

  She heard Charlotte chuckle on the other end of the phone. "No, it can't get in. Meg, do me a favor and see if that wolf is wearing a collar."

  Megan took a deep breath and tiptoed closer to the animal, which was sitting and staring into the house, each exhalation forming a small nose shaped steam patch on the glass. She heard it whimper and then let out all her breath in a huge exhale when she saw a plaid collar around its neck and a shiny name tag in the shape of a bone.

  "It's a dog," she gasped.

  She heard hysterical laughter from the other end of the phone. "Oh Meg, maybe I should come up there, I forgot what a city girl you can be."

  "I'll be fine," Meg said and opened the patio door. "Hi boy, what's your name?"

  "Meg, I've got another call. You lock the doors tonight and give me a call tomorrow, ok?"

  "Ok," Meg said and disconnected the call.

  The wolf-dog stepped into the house and licked her hand. She bent down to read his name tag, Timber. “Are you lost, boy?” Timber responded by licking her face. He leaned against her and she swore that he was looking up at her lovingly. She wrapped her arms around the dog and buried her face in its thick gray neck fur. He didn't smell like a dog, he smelled like the outdoors.

  She picked up her phone and punched in the numbers from the tag, but hesitated. It couldn't hurt to have him around for a little while before calling his owner, could it? His one eye was tiffany blue and seemed to be staring into her soul, while his other, a yellow-brown eye, seemed to be telling her that everything was going to be okay.

  "It would be selfish of me to keep you here," she smiled. It felt good to talk to someone, or rather, something, and not be judged. "Someone is probably really missing you."

  She sat down on the sofa and Timber curled up beside her.

  She pressed 'send' on her phone and stroked the dog's velvety ears while it rang. She was surprised when a smooth honey tenor answered the line.

  "I think that I have your dog, Timber."

  "Oh shit, did he get out again? I'm at a job site, I'll pop out quickly to pick him up. I’m really sorry about that."

  "It's okay," Megan heard herself giggle. She had already conjured up an image of the man to match the voice on the other end of the phone. "He's nice company."

  "That he is. Just don't feed him any cheese."

  "Oh, I wasn't planning on it."

  "Cheese gives him wicked farts."

  And with that, the image of the suave mountain man evaporated from Megan's mind.

  "I'm at 17 Sugar Peaks Way."

  "Oh, okay. I will be there to get him in a few minutes."

  Megan could've sworn that the man's voice went cold as soon as she told him the address. She downed the rest of her wine, angry with herself for thinking about another man, albeit a made up one, when the ink wasn't even dried on her divorce papers - hell the ink wasn’t even wet yet.

  She poured another glass of wine and curled up in front of the fire with Timber. She sat, absentmindedly playing with the dog’s fur, until the doorbell rang. Disappointed to be losing her friend, she shuffled over to the entryway. She pulled open the door and was caught completely off-guard. The man standing in front of her wasn't exactly the man she had just conjured up, he was better. “Hi,” she stammered as the wine glass slipped from her hand.

  Five

  "Shit," Megan's face flushed as she jumped back to avoid the splatter of cabernet that was expanding in a river along the marble floor tiles.

  "Are you okay?" the man asked.

  "I--um, I ah, shit.”

  "No, Timber. Sit," the man shouted. Megan looked down to see the gorgeous dog sniffing at the wine spots on the floor.

  Timber sat on his hindquarters and stared up at Megan.

  "Let me help you clean this up," he said. "Do you mind if I come in?"

  "Please come in, but you don't have to clean up this mess,"

  "Oh, you have servants that will do that?" He closed the door, stepped over the spilled wine, and looped his thick index finger under Timber's collar.

  Megan laughed, she had forgotten that she was standing in the doorway of a multi-million-dollar home, drinking wine in the middle of the day. "They've got the day off," she joked.

  "Of course," he murmured. "Thanks for calling about this escape artist. Now, where are your paper towels? This wine will stain these tiles if we don't do something right away."

  "Let me find them," Megan jogged into the kitchen, frantically opening cupboards and drawers, trying to find any cleaning supplies.

  "Try under the sink," he suggested. Megan opened the doors and pulled out a roll of paper towels and a spray bottle of cleaning solution. The man pulled the trash can out from under the counter and proceeded to return to the scene, picking up shards of glass and dropping them into the can. Megan bent down beside him and started picking up the smaller shards.

  Megan glanced at the man out of the corner of her eye. She had been so flustered she hadn't noticed that he wasn't really a man at all. There were only hints of laugh lines on his tanned face, the brown hair that flicked out from under his wool hat showed no signs of gray, and he couldn't have been a day over thirty, if that.

  She sucked in her breath, wondering if she had just had her very first cougar moment. She ripped off some paper towels and sprayed at the wine on the floor. Together they erased any sign of her clumsiness.

  She tossed the last of the crimson towels into the can and looked up, her eyes meeting his, and for the first time since he stepped foot inside the house, he smiled. "You're not so bad at this."

  Megan felt her heart skip a beat, his perfect white teeth and wide smile disarming her, rendering her at a loss for words, or the ability to process his. "What, cleaning?"

  "Yeah," he smiled.

  "Oh, I've cleaned up my fair share of spilled wine," she smiled back at him, wanting to meet the warmth of his smile with her own.

  "I'm Josh," he stood up and held out his hand.

  "Megan," she smiled and shook it. His hand felt like a rough and hardened piece of leather, the callouses scraping against her soft hands.

  "And you've met Timber."

  Megan followed his gaze to the dog lounging on the sofa, his ears pricking in response to his name. "Let's go, bud," Josh shouted and whistled. Timber hopped off the sofa and stretched lazily before following his owner's instruction.

  Megan bent down and scratched Timber behind his ears, "It was lovely to meet you, my friend," she smiled and brushed at the pieces of dog fur that were stuck to her shirt.

  "Welcome to my life," Josh said and picked a piece of fur off her sleeve.

  "Oh, I don't mind a little fur, especially when it comes from such a nice dog."

  "Timber has his moments, but he is a good husky," Josh smiled and pulled his brown work jacket on over his flannel shirt. Megan noticed that his utility pants were made from the same canvas fabric as his jacket.

  Alex had always been a suit guy, and Megan had thought nothing could look sexier on a man than a well-tailored suit, but today, this young man in his work clothes rivaled any sharp-dressed man she had ever met, including Alex when he was young.

  "Yes, yes he is nice company. I'm so happy that we met."

  "Me too," Josh smiled, his hand on the doorknob. "Oh, you meant Timber, didn't you," he laughed quietly.

  That's when Megan realized that he was nervous too, perhaps even more than she was, "It was a pleasure to meet you too, Josh. How could I have managed to get rid of all the evidence without you," she gestured toward the glass shards in the trash can.

  "That's true. Your tiles would've been ruined forever if I hadn't shown up when I did."

  "That they would," Megan laughed but realized that if he hadn't been so damn handsome, she never would've lost control of her motor skills, to begin with.

  "I'll see you around, ma'am," he said and hooked a leash onto Timber.

  Megan felt heavy, the weight of the word ma'am bringing her back down to earth. What was she doing? Flirting? She took a deep breath and rationalized that he wasn't flirting with her, he was being polite. There's no way such a young hot man would find a woman her age, with her laugh lines, and streaks of gray, attractive. She felt like a fool.

  "Have a good day, son," she said and reached behind the man to open the door.

  He looked at her quizzically and she wondered if it had sounded as ridiculous to him as it had to her.

  "Come on Timber," he tugged on the leash and walked outside.

  Megan closed the door and sank down to the floor.

  Six

  Josh walked away from the towering modern mountain home. He had been working in Chance Rapids for ten years but had never met the owner of the house on Sugar Peaks Way. She was a bit of an enigma in the town, rarely visiting, and never traveling into town. He was surprised at how approachable she had been, and if he was being honest, pretty.

  It didn't surprise him that she didn't know where any of the cleaning supplies were in the house, after all, it was rumored that she had cleaning staff come in at least once a week even when the home sat vacantly.

  The residents on the ski hill side of the bridge rarely interacted with the townspeople, unless of course, they were hiring them to work on their homes. Josh had worked on several different construction sites and had taken part in building most of the homes in the Sugar Peaks subdivision.

  He started his pickup truck and rubbed his hands together. The November rain had given way to snow and he flicked on the windshield wipers to clear off the slushy stuff that had accumulated while he was inside. Timber sat up tall and proper in the passenger seat.

  "Well, she can't be all that bad if she likes you." He reached over and rubbed Timber's neck. "No more running away, you rascal."

  He put the truck into gear and wound his way out of the posh neighborhood and back across the bridge into town. He dropped Timber off at his house, ensuring that the back door was locked. Timber had figured out how to bump the door so hard the latch would give, and pop open enough for him to insert his nose and nudge it open, then he'd be gone on one of his adventures. Josh felt guilty leaving Timber at home while he was working, but the job site was a dangerous place for the dog, and if he left him tied up in the backyard, he would just bark and whine like he was being tortured.

  Back at the job site, he pulled on his hard hat and harness as they were wrapping up the exterior of the project and he was helping install the last of the metal roofing.

  "Where did that mutt of yours get to this time?" his buddy, Mark, shouted when the compressor shut off.

  "He was up on Sugar Peaks Way. Made himself comfortable right on that lady's couch."

  "That big modern house?"

  "Yeah," Josh said, strapping on his tool belt.

  "You got to meet her? What was she like?"

  Josh grabbed a box of screws and emptied them into his pouch. "Not what I expected."

  Josh didn't really like to participate in the small-town gossip and heard his fair share about everyone, not just the rich residents. There had been plenty of gossip spread about him over the years, and he saw first hand just how damaging the small-town rumor mill could be.

  "Hot?" Mark wasn't letting it go. "I've heard that she's smoking hot."

  "She's pretty," Josh said, remembering how her green eyes sparkled when she smiled at him, and how she didn't look like the rich bitch that everyone had talked about over the years.

  "Oh," Mark seemed disappointed. "Like, would you bang her?"

  Talk like this wasn't unheard of on the job site, and along with gossip, Josh usually avoided it. After meeting Megan today, speaking about her in such a way just seemed crass and uncalled for.

  "Grow up." Josh swung onto the ladder and made his way onto the roof. Mark followed. "Hey, I'm almost thirty, you old bastard."

  Josh felt older than his thirty-four years. Two broken legs and a perennially separated shoulder from dirt biking had slowed him down considerably over the years. "Maybe it's time to learn a little respect," he growled as he reached the top of the ladder and turned to help his friend mount the plywood clad roof.

  Mark looked at Josh and smiled. "Wow, Josh. She certainly got to you."

  "Hey Mark," Josh passed him a piece of metal and glanced at the setting sun. "Get to work."

  The two of them worked together in the light of their headlamps, the steam from their breath swirling in the LED light until the last piece of steel was installed.

  Back down on the ground, Josh rubbed his hands together. "I can't wait until we can start working inside this place."

  "Me too, we got it sealed up just in time." Mark blew on his hands and pulled a beer out of the back of his truck "Keeps the beer the perfect temperature though," he laughed and handed one to Josh.

  Josh took a swig and then felt the buzz from his cell phone in his shirt pocket. He pulled it out and saw that it was the same number that had called him earlier. It was her. It was Megan.

  Seven

  "What am I doing?" Megan asked herself as she punched in the phone number. The scrap piece of paper had formed a damp ball in her sweaty hand. Did she have a future of balding, beer-bellied, pleated dockers-wearing dates in her future?

  She could have sworn that Josh was flirting with her. She felt him glancing over at her while they worked at sopping up the wine and broken glass.

  Her face was red and blotchy from crying. Being overwhelmed by the long day on the road and the realization that she was over the hill had taken a toll on her. She sat on the sofa and brushed away at the stray clumps of husky fur clinging to the fabric. Timber's company had been so welcoming; his mismatched eyes didn't judge her, and he certainly didn't care about her laugh lines.

  “Hello,” his voice answered after three rings. Her heart surged, but she took a deep breath, willing herself to calm down.

  "Hi, Josh. This is Megan, we met earlier today, um, I found Timber, your dog."

  "Hi Megan, of course I remember. You threw a glass of wine at me," she heard him chuckle over the phone. Flirting again?

  "Yes. If only you'd been a few steps closer, you could've worn that lovely shade of cabernet."

  Was she flirting back? She sank deeper into the sofa and pulled the chenille blanket onto her lap. No. Stop it. She chastised herself. He could be young enough to be your son.

  "Damn. Crimson goes well with my eyes."

  Yes, definitely flirting. And yes, any color would look good against his crystal blue eyes.

  "What can I do for you, Megan?"

  Megan released her breath, thankful that he didn't call her ma'am again. "Do you work all day?"

  She heard a pause. "Yes. Of course I do, like most normal people."

  The tone of his voice went flat, any sign of flirtation gone, and she thought she detected a note of condescension. "I mean, I was wondering if you needed some help with Timber."

  "Help?"

  Shit. Did she offend him?

  "I mean. Let me start again." She took a deep breath. "I'm going to be staying here for a while and I can't get a dog of my own. I was wondering if I could walk Timber for you while you're working, you know, he's just such nice company."

  "That he is." If she was capable of hearing a smile over the phone, she swore she just did.

  "I usually bring him to work, but this particular job site is a commercial gig, no dogs allowed. He's kind of going stir crazy at home. You know what, if you'd like to walk him, I'm sure he would love it."

  "Can I pick him up tomorrow?" she asked, excited to have something on her schedule for the day.

  "Um. Why don't I just drop him off to you? Does 8 a.m. work?"

  "Yes, that's perfect. You know where I live."

  "Yes, yes I do. I'll see you in the morning, Megan."

  After they said goodbye and hung up the phone, Megan took a sip of her new glass of wine. She had just made her first friend in Chance Rapids, and his name was Timber.

  Eight

  Josh woke in a cold sweat, his hair wet and matted against the back of his neck. He sat up, his flannel sheets damp, and reached for the glass of water on his nightstand. It was the same dream he'd been having for the past five years. He rubbed his aching shins, he swore that his body remembered the trauma, and when he dreamt about the accident, his brain didn’t tell his body that it was only a dream.

  It had been a few months since the last nightmare, but even as they'd been decreasing in frequency, they hadn't lost their vibrancy or power. The lights of the ambulances and the chopping whirr of the helicopter blades echoing off the canyon, all sounded and looked as real as the day that she died.

  He groaned as he stood up and stretched, Timber looked up from the foot of his bed and yawned, then rested his head back down.

  "Oh no, you don't. You've got a date today, big guy," Josh said, as he sat down and nuzzled into his dog's scruff. Timber had been the one constant in his life, and he often wondered if he would've been able to get over the tragedy without him by his side.

  He hopped in the shower, rinsing the nightmare from his body. He got dressed in his early winter uniform that consisted of wool socks, one-piece long underwear (he swore by the one piece - no draft was going to sneak up his back), work pants, wool sweater, and canvas work jacket. Then he proceeded with his morning routine: grind coffee, lament that there was no good coffee in town, brew coffee and boil water for instant oatmeal - today's special, peaches and cream.

  He wolfed down his breakfast, poured his coffee into a to-go mug and pulled his red wool hat on over his hair.

  "Timber," he whistled and heard his dog hop off the bed.

  He poured a cup of kibble into Timber's bowl and went out to start up his old Toyota pickup truck. It needed a few minutes to warm up and get the kinks out, just like him. He looked at his altimeter, that also doubled as a watch, and jogged back into the house. Dropping Timber off at his babysitter's house was going to add at least twenty minutes to his morning commute – usually a five-minute drive from his house to the main street.