“I’m having a drink with a total stranger who carries around a plastic pony. How smart can I be?”
“I’m not a total stranger. We’ve met, and you’ve seen me in uniform where I work. You’re smarter than you’re letting on.”
“What about the pony?”
He put his finger to his lips. “We shouldn’t talk about the pony in her presence.”
“Then let’s talk about you. How does a person become a park ranger? Is that a specific program?”
“I have a degree in environmental science, but there are other ways to become a ranger.”
“You knew from the start that’s what you wanted to be?”
He nodded. “When I was a little kid, I wanted to be a cop—because my grandfather was a police chief. But I was happiest when I was running around the woods and creek of my parents’ apple farm. I sort of split the difference and became a ranger.”
“You grew up on an apple farm? That sounds idyllic.”
“I guess it was.”
“Where was that?”
He finished his beer. “A little town in Pennsylvania. Doubt you ever heard of it.”
“Pennsylvania? Are you a Steelers fan?”
“Of course. Are you?”
“I had to be to live with my grandpa. His father was a die-hard fan from Pittsburgh.”
“Now I see—that side of the family is where you got your smarts.”
Ellis smiled at the joke but said no more about that side of her family. She wasn’t sure about smarts, but they had gifted her with a predisposition toward addiction.
She finished her food. She wanted to order another drink, but she wondered what he’d think. And there was the matter of driving under the influence. He was sort of a law officer, wasn’t he?
He put her dilemma on hold when he asked, “Would you like to dance again?”
She did because the band was playing another slow song.
They danced closer than the last time. Toward the end of the song, he tentatively nuzzled at her neck. She’d never felt anything so delicious. She arched her neck to let him have more. When the song ended, he leaned in and kissed her. It was more intense than she’d thought it would be. The room, the people, the music, everything disappeared. Everything but him.
When they parted, he looked into her eyes. His irises were dark, his pupils like two black moons in eclipse.
“Would you like to come over to my place for some cognac?” she asked.
He smiled. “Your place? Where would that be?”
“I can’t remember the name. Something to do with a lake. It’s close. You can drink cognac while I put up the tent.”
“I know the campground you’re talking about. Wouldn’t you rather come to my place?”
“No.”
“It’s snowing pretty hard out there.”
“I know.”
He kept staring into her eyes. “Why do I feel like a gorgeous witch is luring me into a dark wood?”
“Good, the spell is working.” She took his hand and pulled him toward their table. “Follow at your own risk.”
He followed. They paid their bill, put on coats, and went out into the snow.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come to my place?” he said. “There’s heat there. And electricity. And comfy furniture, flushing toilets—”
“French cognac?”
“I think I’m all out.”
“Did you ever drink French cognac in the snowy woods at night?”
“Let me think . . .”
“I haven’t either. Let’s go.”
“You follow me,” he said. “I know the best campsite there.”
She was glad she didn’t have to bother with navigation. She followed him along snowy roads, her windshield wipers swatting at the falling snow. At the entrance to the campground, Keith got out of his car and paid for a campsite. He drove down a winding road and stopped at a wooded campsite that might have a view of the lake, but she couldn’t see past the trees through the snow.
She started setting up her camp on autopilot. She lit two battery lanterns, found the tent pad despite the cover of snow, and laid out her insulated undercover. She emptied the tent from its bag on top. Keith tried to help, but Ellis could do it faster without explaining. She got the tent up fast and quickly outfitted it with blankets, pillows, sleeping bag, and other necessities.
She took two cups out of her cooking supply box and found the cognac buried in a box of food supplies. She’d been saving the expensive French cognac for a special occasion. She’d found Jonah’s hidden stash of liqueurs when she was packing the few items she’d wanted from his house. He’d hidden it from her in their bedroom closet, and she’d felt no compunction about taking a few bottles.
She turned off one lantern and set the other inside the tent to dim its brightness. She gave Keith his cup of cognac. “What should we toast this time?” she asked.
“Gorgeous witches who lure men into the snowy woods at night?”
She held up her cup. “To gorgeous witches and their equally gorgeous prey.”
He tapped his metal cup to hers.
In that setting, the strong, cold brandy tasted like a witch’s brew, a magical mix of black-molasses night, falling-sugar snow, and a spice of stars hidden behind the storm.
“Good?” she asked.
“Very.” He kissed her, and she tasted the sweetness again on his mouth.
They drank and kissed and drank and kissed until they’d emptied their cups.
“More?” she asked.
“I’d better not. The driving will be hazardous as is.”
“You’re leaving?”
Rather than answer, he smoothed her hair. It had turned to wet coils in the snow. “I love your hair. It’s as wild as you are.”
“I’m growing it.”
“That will be beautiful. You’re soaked. Aren’t you cold?”
“Not yet. Are you?”
“No.”
“Keith . . . ?”
“Yes?”
“You have to know—if we go in the tent, I’m still leaving tomorrow.”
“I supposed that was the deal,” he said with an air of wistfulness.
The snow, its muting of the woods, felt like words neither of them could say.
“Are you leaving?” she asked.
“I probably should.”
“I understand.”
He took her in his arms and held her against his chest. “How did you get like this?”
“Like what?”
“Like here but not here. Like this snow I can’t touch without it melting in my hand.”
“You become quite the
