“It’s beautiful costume jewelry,” Henry offers.
“But not valuable enough to rappel down from the roof.” I cover my eyes for a moment. “They pulled everything out of every drawer and destroyed my pillows, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why.”
“Has anyone threatened you?”
I shake my head. “No. I’m not that controversial.”
“What about someone you were dating?”
“The closest to someone meeting that description is Clay—and we just met. There hasn’t been much of anyone else in a while, as you know, and I rarely let people know where I live anyway.”
“I do love your building,” he says. “I’d marry you for that apartment alone.”
I preen at Henry’s compliment. He lives in a lovely Victorian in the Haight that he’s refurbished himself. He’s not into contemporary with marble and slick furniture, which is my condo. But evidently, he appreciates it anyway. “You’re funny. I have my movers taking out the damaged furniture this afternoon and replacing it with other stuff from my warehouse.”
“Thank goodness you have all that furniture for staging.”
“I didn’t know I’d need it for myself, but I’m happy I don’t have to drop everything and go shopping. The wait for new furniture is about four months right now.”
“Well, I still don’t like that it happened, but I’m glad you’ve landed on your feet. All told, you had a pretty exciting Thanksgiving.” Henry stands and kisses me on the cheek. “I need to go meet Patrice.” When I nod, he adds, “The guy is an asshole for not calling you. That’s on him. Not on you.”
I smile and feel warm all over. Henry always knows how to make me feel better. I bid him goodbye and think about Clay as I finish my wine. I’ve not connected with a guy the way I did him in a long time. But maybe it was silly to think it would become anything. I should go back to my original feeling about him—just a fun guy to talk with for a while. Getting trapped in an avalanche with someone doesn’t change incompatible views about relationships.
I take a rideshare home, and once I’ve settled in on the couch, I do a search for Dr. Clay McGrath. Up pops the article inSan Francisco Magazine, so I decide to take a closer look. On the cover he’s wearing a white doctor’s coat, green scrubs, and that amazing smile. It’s a great shot, but having spent some time with him, I can tell it doesn’t do him justice. However, as I skim through the article, it’s clear we’re also not looking for the same things. I have no desire to be one of many. Too bad. Henry is right. It’s his loss.
Chapter 8
Clay
“Hey! You made it.” Bash pats me on the back as I enter Jim’s apartment. “I heard about your Thanksgiving. We’re so glad you’re okay.”
“Thanks.” I never told anyone I was going to Tahoe or mentioned what happened with the avalanche, but evidently these guys were paying attention to the media coverage after Anna and I were rescued.
Jim leans in for a hug. “Man, you have nine lives.”
I grin. “Thank goodness.”
Gage hands me a beer and clinks it against his. “Thank goodness is right.”
“We want to know what happened, but rather than tell your story forty times, we’ll wait for everyone to get here,” Jim says. “Nate and Lilly will be late.”
I grin. “No surprise there.”
We stand around the kitchen island as Jim’s wife, Kate, deals with their twin boys and all the adults. As she passes by, she gives me a side hug. “You really put a scare into us.”
“Good thing you didn’t know about it until it was over.”
“You know Jim would have left Aspen and started digging himself.”
I chuckle because he is that kind of friend. “I do. And I would do the same for him.”
“Do you want something other than beer?” Jim asks. “I have some fancy bourbon Nate left the last time he was here, and he’s bound to bring another bottle tonight.”
“I’m good right now,” I tell him. “I’ll wait.” He nods and steps away, just as Kate reappears. “Tell me, how was Aspen?” I ask her.
She smiles. “The boys, thankfully, have their father’s athleticism and were carving up the intermediate slopes by the end of the weekend.”
“Sounds just like them. What about you? Did you get out?”