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“Grandma passed away two weeks ago.” Swallowing the sudden lump in my throat, I forced a tight smile.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.” The lines deepened on Rosie’s forehead before a sympathetic smile brightened her face. “What brings you to Fort Lincoln?”
Luke caught my gaze. “Maeve’s researching her family tree.”
“You don’t say. Bring her to supper tomorrow night.” Rosie brushed her hands as if that were that. “Let her meet the rest of the family.”
“From what I understand, we’re only related by marriage. I’m from—”
“Cadence and Ben’s side.” Living up to her name, Rosie flashed another smile. “Like I said, meet the rest of the family.”
A warmth began in my chest, thawing parts I didn’t know had iced over. “What can I bring?”
Chapter 4
Supper…with Bea there…Luke took a sharp intake of air. Knowing her, she’ll ‘slip’ about me leaving Maeve’s room. Doesn’t matter that nothing happened. Bea gets too much pleasure skewing facts, then watching people squirm.
The waitress delivered their orders.
“That’s my cue to let you young people enjoy breakfast. See you both tomorrow.” Rosie retrieved her tray, then navigated the steady streams of customers coming and going, all the while trading pleasantries and balancing the overloaded platter in one hand.
Maeve leaned across the table. “Your aunt’s such a warm person.”
“She’s a born nurturer—always feeding or encouraging someone, whether here or at home.”
“And she makes it look easy.”
“She invented multi-tasking.” He eyed his plate of grilled chorizo, crispy corn tortillas, eggs sunny-side up, homemade guacamole, and refried black beans, all lightly sprinkled with crumbled cotija cheese. “How are your huevos rancheros?”
“Picture perfect and they smell heavenly.”
“Dig in.” His stomach rumbling, he inhaled the intoxicating aromas of his chilaquiles verdes, the lemony floral fragrance of cilantro balancing the sausage’s spicy scent. “Nobody cooks like Aunt Rosie.”
Her mouth full, Maeve groaned and nodded, enjoying her breakfast.
His fork poised mid-air, he opened his mouth to speak, then stifled a sigh.
She cocked her head. “Something on your mind?”
“Yeah.” He gave a wry chuckle. “About last night—”
“Everything all right?” The waitress leaned between them as she refilled their coffee cups.
Flinching, Maeve clattered her fork against the dish.
“Delicious. Thanks.” He nodded, waiting until the waitress moved to the next table. “You and I know nothing happened, but—”
“Then let’s keep it our secret.”
“If only it were that simple. This morning, Bea caught me leaving your room.” He stifled an uneasy sigh. “At the very least, she and the night clerk suspect…” Growling in his throat, he shook his head. “There’s no delicate way to put this.”
“I get the picture.” Her smile was crooked. “Like you said, nothing happened. The roads were closed, and we did the only sensible thing. That’s all there was to it.”
Was it? He remembered faking sleep when she emerged from the bath, smelling of lemon and vanilla. More than part of him hoped she would choose his bed, but she had slipped into hers. Fantasies don’t count. He repositioned himself on the chair. “You’re absolutely right, that’s all it was, but I wanted you to know in case…anyone…brings it up.”
“Anyone…do you mean Bea?” She arched her brow. “Which reminds me, why did you call her territorial? Are you two seeing each other?”
Her directness startling, he ran his hand across his mouth. “No.”
