“You think I don’t want to make a commitment to a man because of Dad?”
“You were so close to your father.” Mary Ella seemed to be picking over her words as carefully as Alex chose produce at the farmers’ market. “I remember how you used to love cooking something special for him on weekend mornings. I would wake up and you would already be hard at work in the kitchen trying to come up with something unique. He would come in from his run, scoop you up in his arms and call you his little Julia Child.”
She hated remembering those weekend mornings. “He had everything a man could want. But he still walked away from all of us.”
“Oh, darling. Your father loved you and your brother and sisters. I have to think he loved me, as well. But there was always some core of him that could never be happy, no matter what I did or any of you children did. I’m not sure he had the capacity to be truly happy. We married so young and I think part of him could never stop wondering about the roads he didn’t have the chance to travel and what might have been waiting for him there.”
Mary Ella touched her hand. “That didn’t mean he didn’t love you, Alex. All of you. I know he did. The time he spent with you children was some of his happiest.”
When she let herself see anything past her anger, she truly missed those happy times. Her father had been clever and fun, curious about everything around him.
Maybe, if she hadn’t been dealing with the ache of abandonment, she might have been more discriminating in her choices later in life. She wouldn’t have been so desperate for someone to love her that she completely ignored common sense and simple instincts.
“I’m going to tell you something I don’t think I’ve ever voiced before,” Mary Ella said. “If your father hadn’t been killed in that accident at the dig, I honestly think he would have come to his senses and realized everything he was giving up. He would have come to see how very much his family meant to him.”
“We’ll never know, will we?”
“No. And that grieves my heart for you children more than I can say.”
Alex shook her head. “Let’s not talk about this. This is a happy day. You’re getting married!” She injected all the enthusiasm she could in her voice, became as perky as Rachael freaking Ray sucking helium. “I’m so happy for you and Harry. As long as he treats you well, who cares that he has a reputation for being the crankiest man in town?”
Mary Ella laughed and allowed herself to be distracted, much to Alex’s relief. They talked a few more moments about the wedding plans and the restaurant and then Mary Ella left, with the excuse that she was meeting Claire and Riley at the Center of Hope Café to share the news with them.
With all the tea she had already nervously consumed, Alex doubted Mary Ella would have room left for any of Dermot’s food, but she wisely kept that opinion to herself.
After her mother left, she wandered around the bookstore for several minutes, purchased a couple foodie magazines and a cookbook for ideas.
She put them in her vehicle, which she had parked in the little lot behind Maura’s store, then headed across and down Main Street to the little fenced yard at String Fever where she had left Leo to play with Chester while she met her mother.
The two dogs were nestled together in a patch of spring sunlight that had burst through the gloom while she was at the bookstore. The sight of them, Leo’s head resting on Chester’s plump haunches, made her smile and pushed away a little of her restlessness.
She left them to it and peeked her head into the store to grab the leash she had left in Claire’s office. Evie stood behind the counter talking to one customer with another one waiting to grab her attention. She never disturbed her when she was busy so she only held up the leash and waved at her friend to let her know she was taking Leo with her.
By the time she walked back out, Leo was waiting for her by the rear door of the store, his tail wagging a greeting. He really was a great dog. Somebody had to be missing him somewhere.
Outside the fenced garden, she paused, the leash dangling in her hand. Every instinct she might have for self-preservation was urging her to take the safe course for the rest of the day—to climb back into her SUV and head home and work on her fledgling vegetable-and-herb garden along the banks of the creek.
The day before, Caroline had supervised from the patio while Alex took some perennial starts from her friend’s yards. Caroline, the expert gardener, had also offered some solid planting advice about what would work best for the soil she had.
Alex had big ideas for growing fresh herbs she could use in some of the dishes she wanted to serve at the restaurant and she couldn’t wait to get started.
Still, she found herself turning up the steep Main Street toward Brazen. She would only stop for a moment, she told herself. Just to prove to both of them she wasn’t running scared of him.
Clouds still hovered around the rugged mountaintops but the weather appeared to be clearing. In the wake of the early morning rain, everything looked clean and new, saturated with color, and the air smelled sweetly of spring growth.
She waved to Prudence Clover, riding down the hill on her cruising bike with the big straw basket in the front, and then to Darwin Leeds, who was out replacing a broken slat on his fence.
As she neared the restaurant, she told herself the little skitter in her chest was just happiness that she lived in such a beautiful place, surrounded by friends.
It certainly had nothing to do with anticipation about seeing Sam twice in one morning, only anticipation at seeing the familiar old fire station coming back to life.
The freshly painted wide red doors that had once opened for water tankers and ladder trucks gleamed a welcome in the morning light with their replacement windows. She couldn’t wait to open them on summer days and put seating on the flagstone patio so people could sit and look out at the charming, bustling town below. It would be a beautiful place to enjoy the summer sunshine and the evening stars.
When she pushed open the side door, raucous classic rock music competed with the buzz of power tools. The smell of sawdust and wood glue filled the air.
She saw Sam first thing. His back was to her as he worked a board through some kind of big saw hooked up to a power compressor. He wore black ear protectors, which probably masked the sound of her arrival. From behind, his T-shirt accentuated those wide shoulders that tapered down to slim hips and the muscled biceps that flexed with each movement, complete with that very sexy tattoo on his right arm.
Nerves curled in her stomach, glittery and bright, and she tightened her grip on the dog’s leash. This was stupid. He was just a good-looking man she happened to have kissed. Quite passionately.
Ignoring the clamoring impulse to just turn around and walk right back down the hill, she forced herself to wait a moment more until he turned off the power saw, then she cleared her throat.
He turned around, his brown eyes and long dark lashes magnified behind the clear safety goggles he wore.
“Alexandra! Hi. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.” He set the board aside and pulled off all his protective wear then headed toward her.
“And Leo. Hey, there.”
She knew she shouldn’t be charmed by this big, tough-looking construction worker bending down to give a stray dog the love, but a traitorous warmth trickled through her when he rubbed Leo’s ears and throat.
“It stopped raining and he needed a walk anyway,” she explained quickly. “I’ve been trying to exercise him whenever I can in public areas in the hopes that somebody driving by might recognize him.”
“How’s that working out for you?”
She held up the leash. “He’s still with me instead of where he belongs.”
“Maybe with you is where he belongs.”
She made a face. “He has a home somewhere. I’m sure they’re missing him. I don’t mind watching him temporarily but once the restaurant opens, I won’t have time to take care of him very well.”
Saying that aloud made her sadder than it sh
ould. Already, the dog was seeping into her heart. She couldn’t allow that. It would hurt too badly when he left.
“Have time to give me a quick tour so I can check out the progress?” she asked quickly, eager to change the subject.
He shoved work gloves in his back pocket. “Sure. Love to.”
Did he sense the currents sparkling between them like dust motes in a beam of sunlight? she wondered as he showed her around the kitchen.
Eventually they circled back around to the spot where they had started. Alex planted her hands on her hips and gave a long look around at the total package. It was everything she had dreamed and more.
In her mind, she could see it in a few weeks’ time, teeming with her crew instead of his, with the scent of delicious food cooking replacing the sharp construction smells.
“I’m very impressed. You do good work, Sam Delgado. I can’t believe you’ve done all this in a week. You’re nearly finished.”
She should be jumping up and down with excitement about that, not fighting this vague depression that he would be out of her life soon.
“We’re ahead of schedule. Another few days should do it, then we’ll leave it to the painters and decorators. And speaking of work...I’ve been meaning to stop by the resort restaurant to have a meal so I can check yours out. Seems only fair, since you’ll see mine every day while you work in here.”
She would think of him. While she stood at that gleaming countertop, she would remember those big hands that had fashioned it. Eventually he would become just another memory in thirtysomething years of them.
That thought shouldn’t have made her suddenly sad, either.
“I would have thought the divine hamburger I fixed you the other day was proof enough of my mad cooking skills.”
He shrugged. “Still. I should have a second taste, just to be sure.”
Was he talking about her cooking or that kiss? She wasn’t quite sure...and wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
Out of nowhere, she was struck by the desire to cook him a really fabulous meal in her own kitchen at home. Coquilles St. Jacques, maybe, plump scallops in a dry white wine sauce with baby chanterelle mushrooms and Gruyère cheese.
The impulse unnerved her. She never cooked privately for anyone but close friends, and Sam Delgado was far from that. She swallowed the invitation before it could be anything more than an idea. Her cozy little house on Currant Creek was her haven. Just the idea of him in her comfortable space made her feel as if someone had dropped an ice cube down the back of her shirt.
The restaurant would do. She would make sure they served him a meal he would never forget.
“You do know I’m just the sous-chef there, right?” she said. Technically that was true, but the executive chef, Simon Petit, had two other restaurants, one in Denver and one in Aspen, so she had been doing the heavy lifting for years and had created about half of the items on the menu. With none of the credit, of course.
“Good enough for me. Do I need a reservation?”
She ought to tell him yes and that they were booked out for weeks, but this was the off-season and he probably could walk in any night of the week. “I’ll take care of it. When do you want to come?”
“How about tonight around eight-thirty?”
That meant she would see him three times in one day. So much for trying to keep a safe distance. “Great,” she said, lying through her teeth. “I’ll make sure we have a good table ready for you.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
“Sorry to interrupt your work. I’d better let you get back to it.”
“I’ll see you tonight then.”
His words were perfectly polite, innocent even, but she shivered anyway. Those nerves skittered around inside her like shallots in hot oil.
Firmly ignoring her reaction, she gripped the dog’s leash, gave Sam a jaunty wave and headed back outside.
Once more in the murky sunlight, she marched briskly down the hill. Only when she was certain she was out of sight of Sam or any of his crew did she lean against a convenient tree trunk and press a hand to her stomach.
She had a serious crush on the man. It was ridiculous at her age and completely counterproductive. She was going to have to do something drastic to exorcise it before she made a complete fool of herself.
CHAPTER SEVEN
HE WAS IN HEAVEN. Complete culinary heaven.
After finishing the best meal of his life, Sam sat back in his chair and wiped at his mouth with his napkin with a sense of total satiation.
Everything had been perfect, from the roasted fennel tomato soup at the beginning to the chocolate mousse layer cake he had just finished. He didn’t consider himself any kind of foodie, though his late wife had done her best to educate his palate, but he did know when something tasted just right. This meal definitely fit the bill.
Though the waitstaff had been attentive and helpful, Sam’s only regret was that he had missed the chance to see Alexandra. What was the point of coming out here to her restaurant if he didn’t have the chance to tell her how delicious everything had been?
He was about to ask his server if he could finagle a few minutes of her time when the kitchen doors swung open and she walked out. All that silky blond hair was gathered under a tall chef’s hat—a toque, he’d learned once when Kelli had been watching the Food Network from the hospital bed—and she wore a white jacket and black trousers. She looked crisply professional but every bit as beautiful as always.
Suddenly the whole evening seemed brighter. He didn’t find that a particularly comfortable realization.
“So?” She gestured to his table.
“I’m not sure I want to ever move from this spot again. That was fantastic. I can’t even describe how good it was.”
She plopped down into the chair opposite, snagged his wineglass and took a sip without asking. “Go ahead. Try.”
She really needed validation? He found that hard to believe, when she could produce such miraculous creations. “You do understand I’m not exactly a food critic, right? When I was a kid, a gourmet meal for us was a bucket of chicken. I’m only a dirt-poor kid turned soldier turned construction worker. Not sure if my opinion really holds all that much weight.”
“It does.”
“Okay. Well, I can’t tell what was my favorite part of the meal. That soup where all those flavors mixed together perfectly, the beef tenderloin that literally melted in my mouth or the roasted potatoes with the herb crust. What was that?”
“Oh, this and that. Rosemary, oregano, thyme and a few other secret things.”
He leaned back in his chair. “It was all divine. Every bit of the meal. But you knew that, didn’t you?”
“It’s always nice to hear it from somebody else.” Her grin was bright and infectious and he wanted to kiss her again, right here, right now, in full view of all her coworkers and the remaining patrons.
“When does your shift end?” he asked on impulse. Yeah, she had shut him down the last time when he asked to see her again but he couldn’t resist trying again.
“Now. We’re basically done for the night.”
If he were smart, he would thank her for a lovely dinner, head to his motel and try to sleep a little after a long day, preferably without frustrating dreams of her.
But sometimes the smart way seemed the coward’s way and he felt like living on the edge tonight.
“Up for another game of pool?”
She wanted to say yes. He didn’t know how he was so certain but for just an instant, something in her expression indicated she was seriously tempted, then wariness washed in like a dark cloud skating across the sky.
“I better not. I left Leo with Claire and Riley and told them I would swing by to pick him up after my shift.”
She paused, as if weighing her words. “I was planning to take him for a little walk to help us both unwind. You’re welcome to come along, assuming you can keep up.”
Laughter bubbled up. If he could keep up? He wa
s used to twenty-mile forced marches in the middle of the night in the desert, carrying seventy-five pounds of gear, and she was implying she could out-hike him.
He could fall for this woman in a big way if he wasn’t careful.
Tonight he didn’t feel like being very careful.
“I’ll have to pry myself out of this booth first. After that delicious meal, that’s easier said than done.”
“Got a jacket handy, soldier? I was planning to hike up the Woodrose Mountain trail. It’s got a nice view of town from up there but the mountains are chilly once the sun goes down. The trailhead is just at the top of Sweet Laurel Falls Road.”
He loved the quaint place names in Hope’s Crossing. Glacier Lily Drive, Willowleaf Lane, Sweet Laurel Falls Road. Whoever went around with the naming pen had had a romantic streak. “I can find a jacket. Give me thirty minutes to run back to my motel for one and some hiking boots.”
And a flashlight or two, he thought, just to be safe.
“That should give me just enough time to change and pick up Leo.”
“Perfect. I’ll meet you at the trailhead in half an hour.”
She nodded. “I have a few things to wrap up here before I head down the canyon. It might be closer to forty-five.”
“That works.”
Though she had been the one to issue the invitation, he had the impression she wasn’t entirely thrilled now at the idea of spending more time with him. Again, he had to wonder why. Awareness sparked and snapped between them every time they were within a dozen feet of each other. She had to sense it. Did it make her antsy, too?
She returned to the kitchen and he quickly settled his check then hurried outside the restaurant to the lobby of the Silver Strike Lodge, a massive timber structure built in the style of old national-park lodges that somehow managed to look rustic and elegant at the same time.
The lobby wasn’t crowded but it was busier than he might have expected for the off-season. Then again, it was Friday. He could imagine the resort did a fair business with Colorado residents looking for a quick weekend vacation.
He had self-parked—he hated paying for valet parking when a few more steps could get him his own damn pickup truck—but as he passed a short line at the valet stand, one of the men standing there stepped out.
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