“It’s ancient.”

“It’s got power windows.” Unlike the SUV Jonah drove in Bangor. But he had an excuse for driving it there. In a place where vehicles are brought in by boat, you hold on to whatever you can find until the engine takes its final breath. Anchorage has every dealership imaginable, albeit pricier.

Still, there is no excuse for keeping this leaking, creaking, duct-tape-covered beast.

I come to a stop in what might be a parking spot, if there were actual lines painted on the gravel. There’s no sign of these local runners Muriel set me up with, but we’re ten minutes early, to give myself a chance to warm up. “I was thinking something bigger, manlier.”

Jonah pauses his reading to frown at me. “You’ve gone from wanting a Mini Cooper to something manlier?”

I roll my eyes. “Not for me. For you.”

He moves back to his paper. “I told you, this is good for me.”

“Of course, it is.” I let my focus wander. A thin, older man jogs past, a black Labrador on a leash keeping pace next to him. Maybe that’s what I need—a dog to keep me company when I’m outside. “Fine. But I want something nicer to drive.”

“Like what?” He drops the newspaper again. “And don’t say a fucking Mini Cooper or I swear to God, Calla, I’ll find more crash pics to send.” There’s no hint of amusement in his voice.

“I was thinking a Jeep. A Wrangler. They’re supposed to be good in snow.”

Jonah makes a grunting sound that could be approval, but also might not be. “Hardtop, right?”

“I think soft, actually. They say it’s easier to take off—”

“Bears can tear right through canvas.”

“Hardtop, it is.”

He smiles. “How much are they?”

I press my lips together, deciding how I want to answer, given the fight we just had yesterday over my spending. “More than the hot tub.” Especially with the leather interior and all the bells and whistles the website let me choose.

He studies me a long moment, and I hold my breath, waiting for him to start giving me a hard time. “Get your license first, and then maybe we can go check out the dealership. You should test drive one before you make any decisions.”

“Yeah. That’s smart.” I leave the keys in the ignition and hop out of the driver’s seat, inhaling deeply. It’s overcast, but not raining. The morning air, though crisp, is clean. It’s a nice day to run.

The passenger door slams shut behind me and Jonah’s boots drag across the gravel, sending stones skittering.

“What are you going to do while I’m out running?” I ask, stretching my legs.

“A few errands.”

I glance over my shoulder to find him leaning against the hood of the truck, his thumbs hooked in his pockets, his steady gaze on my ass. I spin around to face him, ending his show. “Pervert.”

“You don’t know the half of it …” He flashes a wicked smirk that makes my heart race and my cheeks flush and a thrill course through my core. We’ve been living together for almost five months, and he can still cause an instant reaction in my body with a single look. Enough that I’d be willing to skip this run with strangers and find a private spot to christen this old truck.

I clear my throat. “Errands?”

He grins, as if he can read my thoughts. “I figured I’d go and see about Muriel’s list of demands.”

I groan. “How did I get myself into this?” Toby sent a text last night with an itemized list—manure, triple mix, and seeds for everything from carrots to squash to pumpkins—that Muriel wants me to have at the house by Monday. He also apologized if his mother seems a bit controlling. That choice of words made me laugh.

“You did mention trying out gardening, didn’t you?” Jonah reminds me.

I pivot into a leg lunge. “I was thinking more along the lines of a pot of basil on our windowsill.”

“Well, you can have a jungle of it.” Jonah chuckles. “Look, she’s willin’ to help so let her help.”

“She’s a dictator, and she made me feel dumb and clueless.”

“Then prove her wrong,” he challenges.

“But I am dumb and clueless when it comes to gardening.”

He shakes his head firmly. “You’ll figure it out. And I don’t think she means anything bad by it. She set this run up for you. Maybe you’ll make some new friends around here.”

“Yeah, I guess. I could definitely use one of those right now.”

Jonah lifts off the truck, closing the distance to seize my shoulders and pull me against him. “I’m sorry about Diana,” he offers, his voice conciliatory.

“I’m so disappointed.” I press my cheek against his chest, the feel of his soft cotton shirt and the smell of his woodsy body wash a comfort. “I was really hoping she’d come this year.” Diana called me last night to break the news that, with Aaron’s sister’s wedding and needing to take time off around exams, she won’t have enough vacation days left to visit me. I can’t begrudge her situation—I’m competing against a wedding and law school. Still, I’m disheartened.

“So, she’ll make it here next year.”

“Yeah. We’ll see.” It’s been five months since I saw my family and my best friend. It’ll be a year by the time Mom and Simon come for Christmas. A year and a half, at least, for Diana. While I could fly to Toronto to see them at any time, the selfish part of me wishes they’d have made coming here to see me in my new world a priority.

“My mom said that was one of the hardest things about living in Alaska—how little she saw of her friends and family. They all say they’re gonna come but they don’t. ’Course, most of them were in Oslo, which is way farther than Toronto.” Jonah smooths a comforting hand over my back. “Don’t worry, though. They’ll make it here.”

A hollow ache stirs in my chest. “Muriel said eight, right?” I check my watch. It’s five after eight. “What if they don’t come?” I can’t even remember their names.

“They’ll come.”

“How do you know?”

“For the same reason that I’m driving halfway to Wasilla for manure and why you’re planting a garden.”

I peer up at Jonah’s handsome face. “Because we’re all terrified of Muriel?”

He chuckles. “I’d call it more of a healthy respect. Look, that’s got to be them there.” He juts his chin toward the road behind me.

I peer over my shoulder to see two female runners jogging side by side at a slow pace turn into the parking lot. They’re wearing matching head-to-toe neon running gear—one yellow, one magenta—and I have to wonder if any part of that is for fashion or if it’s all for visibility.

“You good? Or do you want me to stick around until you’re sure you’re doin’ this?” Jonah asks.

“I’m fine. It’s just a run.” And it’s much needed. I’ve been feeling sluggish lately. “This is only going to take a half hour, tops.”

He leans down to kiss me, lingering a long moment, his beard tickling my face. “I’ll meet you at the grocery store after.”