Free Wine and Roses by Ursula Sinclair

still wanted her. Suddenly they cleared a hill, and she could see the river several yards in front of her. The dirt road they drove on led straight up to a small house nestled in a clearing with the mountains at its back. Simon pulled up in front of the house. There didn’t appear to be a garage, just the graveled area where he stopped.
    “Oh my. This is stunning.” The river was wide enough she could make out if someone stood across from her and waved. But no one did. Only a forest of trees stood on the other side. A small dock floated near the side of the house, and a dark tarp covered something large, pulled right up on the banks of the river. “Is that a boat?” she asked Simon.
    “Yes. I keep it stored like that to protect it. But it also makes it easier for anyone wanting to use it to get it out onto the water.”
    Eboni turned to look at him. Simon held her full attention. “You own this place?”
    “Yes.”
    Gunner took that moment to get up and yawn. Sitting up, the dog looked around as Simon opened the car door and stepped out. Gunner jumped over the center console and jumped out the door right after his master. She got out, too, opening the back door to grab her purse and the dog crate while he got their bags. There’d been a duffle bag all set for him in the car they’d switched with Frank. Gunner had already run down toward the river. Simon paused to watch the dog as she walked around the car to the front door of the log cabin and paused.
    “Gunner. Come. Now.” Simon called to the dog that came tearing across the yard toward them.
    “This place truly is beautiful,” she said. “How long have you owned it?”
    “I was born here.”
    “What?” Talk about a shocker. She turned to look around even more. “This is your home; you brought me to your home?” She couldn’t wrap her mind around actually being in the place where he grew up. He never answered her only headed for the steps leading to the wrap around porch and the front door, his dog at his side. He shifted the bags he held to get the key ring dangling from his front pocket. After pulling it out, he unlocked the door, and she quickly followed behind him. Gunner ran in first and immediately sniffed everything in sight.
    The house smelled like the pine wood it had been made from and seemed well-cared for. A log cabin, the dark brown stain on the outside logs looked recently done. Nothing showed wear about the exterior. Except for the roof, the tiles were faded in some places showing signs of a little scuffing. She couldn’t tell the age of the house, could be a year or twenty-years-old, but if he had been born there it was way older than it appeared.
    She followed him into the interior of the home. He moved off to the side and opened blinds letting light into the darken rooms, and the more light he let in the more she could see of the place. “You grew up here?”
    “Yes. Come on, I’ll show you where to put your stuff. Leave the crate right there, I’ll get it later.”
    He moved past her to head for a hallway to her right, but she stayed put for a moment glancing around. They’d entered into a small foyer. From the outside, the house looked like an L shape. With the view of the river on the inner part and the front of the L. The small living room area appeared more lived in than cluttered. In the far corner of the room, wood piled as high as her waist lay in a cart next to an iron stove. A pipe came out from the top of the stove all the way through the top of the ceiling. The room would be cozy when it got colder out. Two sofas both short and wide, one brown with green stitching around the edges and green cushions, the other burnt gold, sat facing each other. Colorful-knitted Afghans in earth tones were thrown over the backs of both sofas. A recliner sat on the other side of the wood stove, and a few scenic pictures covered the wooden walls. Straight ahead, an archway separated the area leading into another room where she could see