“Yeah. I pretty much built this.” I lean forward to flip to the Calla & Dee tab.

“It’s pink.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s all aesthetics. I could figure something out for Alaska Wild.”

“In four days?”

“Yeah. I think so. A simple one, anyway.” I shrug. “What else do I have to do here?”

He nods slowly, his brow furrowed in thought. “It won’t cost much, will it?”

“No. I’ll use the same web designer platform that I used for that site. It’s next to nothing. And I have my camera, so I can take some pictures. I’m not a professional, but I’m decent enough. I took these.” I click on a post that I know has a lot of scenery.

“ ‘Sequins in the City,’ ” Jonah reads out loud.

“Forget the title and look at the pictures.”

“Who’s that?” He nods to Diana, who’s posing in High Park, her short, blush-colored sequined skirt identical in shade to the cherry blossom trees in bloom behind her.

“That’s my best friend.”

“Damn.”

“Okay. Great. So you’re into leggy blondes. Surprise, surprise,” I mutter. “But look at the picture.”

“That skirt barely covers her ass.”

“Jonah!” I growl through a laugh, and then smack his chest, noting how hard and curved it is beneath my fingertips. “Forget Diana and her short skirt. My point is I’m pretty okay at taking pictures. And in any case, it’s better than what’s there now, which is nothing.”

His eyes are crinkled with amusement as he watches me, and I feel my mouth curling into a stupid grin in response, even though I’m mildly annoyed. “You’re not taking me seriously.”

“I am. I swear.” His hand lands on my knee, giving it a quick but tight squeeze, before leaning back in his chair again. “So go ahead and do it.”

“Really?” I can’t hide my surprise.

He shrugs. “You make a good argument. I still don’t know if I buy what you’re selling, but it can’t hurt.”

“Should I ask my dad first?”

“Nah. Just tell him you’re doing it. He’ll be happy.”

“You think so?”

“You kidding? His kid showing interest in Wild?”

I wouldn’t exactly call it an interest in Wild so much as an interest in feeling useful and having something to do. But I keep that to myself. “Well . . . okay, then.”

“Okay, then.” He nods resolutely. “You and me can bang this out together.”

Whoa. Wait. “Us?” I feel my eyes pop.

“How else are you gonna add all that stuff about planes, and Wild’s history, and all that? You think you can figure all that out? In four days? And I know everything there is to know about this place.”

“Right. I guess.” Me and Jonah, working together on a website for Alaska Wild. “This should be interesting,” I mumble, under my breath.

His lips curl into a smirk. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you’re . . . you.”

“And you’re you,” he retorts, adding more softly, “except you’re actually smart. I’m shocked.”

“Shut up.” A spark of satisfaction flickers inside me. Jonah thinks I’m smart.

He sighs, his gaze settling on his folded hands. “Alright, alright. Look. We got off on the wrong foot and that’s on me. Yeah, I can admit when I’ve been an ass.”

“So . . . is this, like, a truce or something?” Is Jonah capable of being civil?

“Or something.” He glances at his watch and then eases out of my chair. His heavy boots thump against the floorboards as he heads for the door that leads off the porch.

“My dad told you to be nice to me, didn’t he?”

“Nope.”

I don’t buy that, especially since my dad said he’d tell Jonah to ease off me. And something makes me think they’re too close for Jonah to shrug my dad’s requests off.

“Hey.”

He pauses at the door. “Yup?”

“What do you know about my dad’s diagnosis?” My dad made it clear that he doesn’t want me to bring it up with him, and Agnes has already told me what she knows.

So the only person left to ask is Jonah.

His shoulders sag with a heavy exhale. “I know he has cancer, and he doesn’t want to talk about it while you’re here.”

“What do you think that means?”

“That he has cancer and he doesn’t want to talk about it while you’re here,” he says, matter-of-factly.

I roll my eyes at his back. “But he hasn’t let on how bad it is?”

There’s a long pause, and then he admits, almost reluctantly, “He asked me if I’d ever consider buying the company from him.”

Surprise hits me. “He’s thinking of selling Alaska Wild?”

“He’s weighing his options. He said he might want to retire.”

My dad, retiring. He’s only fifty-three. Then again, he’s been running the place since his early twenties. Maybe, after thirty years, he’s finally had enough. But what would he do?