final approach into the strip. It was Friday afternoon, so Logan knew it was the scheduled flight from Denver. September brought the last of the climbers and campers to Mirror Falls. October would be quiet, and then the ski season would get underway, with hotels booked up for months in advance.
“She might come back,” Elroy offered, his thoughts obviously going to the passengers on the plane.
“She won’t come back,” said Logan.
And he didn’t want Sasha Burke to come back. It had been nearly two months since she left, and he was over her. He might have once been infatuated, but he was determined to relegate her to his list of flings.
Along about the time he’d turned sixteen, he’d discovered the concept of holiday romance. He’d met dozens of female tourists over the years. Sometimes, they merely flirted, kissing and speculating about what might have happened between them in a different time and place. Sometimes, they did more, savoring their short interlude, the impending goodbye making everything sweeter.
But he’d never wanted any of them to stay, never thought about taking it further, not until Sasha.
The Dash 8 touched down on the runway, engines roaring in the distance as it slowed to turn at the south end and taxied to the small terminal building.
“Wonder who’s single on that flight,” said Logan, making reference to a joke that had run between the two men for years now.
“Now you’re talking,” said Elroy. “I’ll take the redheads this time.”
“Blondes,” Logan joked in return. “I think I’m in the mood for a blonde.”
As he said the words, he desperately wanted them to be true. But if Sasha walked off that plane right now, auburn hair flowing in the breeze, smile on her red lips, and a glow in those blue eyes, he wasn’t sure what he’d do.
Elroy pushed open the door to the Dog Trails Café. The room was toasty warm, flames from the big stone fireplace reflecting off the log walls. The fire was overkill for September, but it was always welcome in January when temperatures dropped to the low teens.
Through the window, the aircraft came to a halt next to the terminal building. The ground crew descended with luggage trailers, a fueling truck, catering, and a staircase to allow the passengers to disembark.
“You guys still on duty?” Mavis called from behind the counter. She was in her early forties, with a bright smile, plump rosy cheeks, and long dark hair piled up on her head.
“We’re on duty,” Logan answered, taking a booth next to the window.
Mavis gave a wave of acknowledgment and began to dispense two colas from the fountain.
“Generator came in,” said Elroy as he settled back on the bench seat.
“Parts all there? Everything? The wiring?”
“Believe it or not, everything arrived together.”
“So, we’re good to go?”
“As soon as the Beaver’s available for transport.”
Logan couldn’t help but grin. He and Elroy had spent years building a cottage beside a remote, unnamed lake up on Castle Mountain. Every summer, the cottage got a little bit bigger or a little bit better. This year, they’d wired it and installed a fridge and stove in the kitchen in anticipation of their new generator.
For years now, they’d relied on a hand pump to feed their gravity water system, drawing from the lake. An electric water pump would free up hours of their time, time they could use for hiking, fishing and lounging on the deck telling lies.
“I’ll check the schedule,” said Logan. “But I don’t think we’re too busy next week.”
As Mavis set their colas in front of them, Logan’s attention was snagged by a passenger disembarking the Dash 8. As the woman stepped off the stairs, her thick, auburn hair lifted in the breeze. She was in profile as she followed the white lines toward the terminal door, and for a second there…
“Logan?” Elroy prompted.
It wasn’t Sasha, Logan told himself, positive that he was right. But he watched a moment
“She might come back,” Elroy offered, his thoughts obviously going to the passengers on the plane.
“She won’t come back,” said Logan.
And he didn’t want Sasha Burke to come back. It had been nearly two months since she left, and he was over her. He might have once been infatuated, but he was determined to relegate her to his list of flings.
Along about the time he’d turned sixteen, he’d discovered the concept of holiday romance. He’d met dozens of female tourists over the years. Sometimes, they merely flirted, kissing and speculating about what might have happened between them in a different time and place. Sometimes, they did more, savoring their short interlude, the impending goodbye making everything sweeter.
But he’d never wanted any of them to stay, never thought about taking it further, not until Sasha.
The Dash 8 touched down on the runway, engines roaring in the distance as it slowed to turn at the south end and taxied to the small terminal building.
“Wonder who’s single on that flight,” said Logan, making reference to a joke that had run between the two men for years now.
“Now you’re talking,” said Elroy. “I’ll take the redheads this time.”
“Blondes,” Logan joked in return. “I think I’m in the mood for a blonde.”
As he said the words, he desperately wanted them to be true. But if Sasha walked off that plane right now, auburn hair flowing in the breeze, smile on her red lips, and a glow in those blue eyes, he wasn’t sure what he’d do.
Elroy pushed open the door to the Dog Trails Café. The room was toasty warm, flames from the big stone fireplace reflecting off the log walls. The fire was overkill for September, but it was always welcome in January when temperatures dropped to the low teens.
Through the window, the aircraft came to a halt next to the terminal building. The ground crew descended with luggage trailers, a fueling truck, catering, and a staircase to allow the passengers to disembark.
“You guys still on duty?” Mavis called from behind the counter. She was in her early forties, with a bright smile, plump rosy cheeks, and long dark hair piled up on her head.
“We’re on duty,” Logan answered, taking a booth next to the window.
Mavis gave a wave of acknowledgment and began to dispense two colas from the fountain.
“Generator came in,” said Elroy as he settled back on the bench seat.
“Parts all there? Everything? The wiring?”
“Believe it or not, everything arrived together.”
“So, we’re good to go?”
“As soon as the Beaver’s available for transport.”
Logan couldn’t help but grin. He and Elroy had spent years building a cottage beside a remote, unnamed lake up on Castle Mountain. Every summer, the cottage got a little bit bigger or a little bit better. This year, they’d wired it and installed a fridge and stove in the kitchen in anticipation of their new generator.
For years now, they’d relied on a hand pump to feed their gravity water system, drawing from the lake. An electric water pump would free up hours of their time, time they could use for hiking, fishing and lounging on the deck telling lies.
“I’ll check the schedule,” said Logan. “But I don’t think we’re too busy next week.”
As Mavis set their colas in front of them, Logan’s attention was snagged by a passenger disembarking the Dash 8. As the woman stepped off the stairs, her thick, auburn hair lifted in the breeze. She was in profile as she followed the white lines toward the terminal door, and for a second there…
“Logan?” Elroy prompted.
It wasn’t Sasha, Logan told himself, positive that he was right. But he watched a moment
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