Page 18 of Mountain Target

Grocery bags.

“Let me help you,” he said, surprising himself. “I can bring those up for you.”

She hesitated for an instant, but eventually nodded and let him take the bags from her. For an instant, their hands brushed, and her warmth was everything he knew he could never have.

He followed her up the wooden stairs to her apartment, the wood groaning under his feet.

Her living and kitchen area were like his, except smaller. He noticed an extra wall and door that his apartment didn’t have.

That must be the girl’s room.

A closed fireplace crackled against one wall, bathing the room in a warm, inviting glow. The girl—Ren—sat at the dining table, surrounded by books and notebooks. Behind her, something savory bubbled in the oven.

Beau’s breath caught in his throat. For an instant, he felt like he’d fallen down the rabbit hole. That’s how different this place was from the cold, dark apartment that waited for him just below.

You have to get out of here.

But his feet were frozen, like in a dream.

It was Ren who broke the spell, jumping out of her chair with that easy athleticism of children.

“Beau!”

“Monsieur Fontaine,” the woman corrected automatically, closing the door behind them.

“Beau is fine,” he said, dropping off the two bags on the wooden kitchen counter.

“Thanks for your help,” Valentina said, her tone formal and slightly wooden.

He looked towards the door, wondering what the quickest way to make his exit was. “I … I see you’re both busy. I’ll leave you.”

“Wait! What’s that?” Ren asked, pointing at his chest. Beau looked down at his polo shirt, and at the PGHM shield half-hidden by his leather jacket. He opened up the jacket so she could see the crossed yellow skis, and the words Gendarmerie and Peloton de Montagne etched on top and below.

“It’s where I work. At the Chamonix search and rescue unit.”

Ren smiled, an infectious, joyful smile. “See? Now we know where he works,” she said, addressing her aunt.

As Valentina blushed, Beau realized this was part of an earlier conversation the two of them had had.

They’ve been talking about me.

He had no idea why that mattered to him.

“You’re with the PGHM?”

Beau nodded. “My unit just moved from Annecy.”

“That’s why you sometimes work nights,” she said, and blushed an even deeper shade of red.

She’s been watching me.

“I told you he was a good guy, Aunt Val.” Ren huffed. She turned to him. “Aunt Val was worried you might be a drug dealer.”

Over by the kitchen, Valentina made a soft, strangled sound.

“I’m not a drug dealer. But your aunt was right—is right,” he corrected, not wanting to assume anything. “You shouldn’t talk to strangers, even neighbors.”

“Stay for dinner. Then you won’t be a stranger. He can stay, can’t he, Aunt Val?” Ren smiled.