Nuzzling a kiss to her palm, he moved to feather another kiss over her mouth, a sensual whisper full of promise. He smiled and her breath backed up in her lungs.
“Do you want a campfire dinner or a kitchen dinner followed by a fire?” he asked.
In a cloud of lust, it took her a beat to catch up. “Are you serious?” She couldn’t wait. “No contest. I haven’t had a real campfire dinner in ages. I’m talking little-kid core memories. Do we need to go hunting or fishing first?”
“No hunting or fishing,” he said, clearly amused. “Barely any cooking, in fact. It’s probably better to say we’re reheating dinner over the fire.”
She sat back and stared. “You already did the cooking?”
“Of course. I know things didn’t go as planned, but I’d hardly ask you over and then starve you.” He stopped short and she could guess at what he didn’t say. He hadn’t invited her over just for sex, though she wouldn’t have argued with that plan.
“I didn’t think that. I, um, just assumed…” She’d assumed he wouldn’t put in much effort. They were the epitome of casual, and she was Natalie Hargrave: enjoyable company easily dismissed. She swallowed. “I assumed you’d order in. We do have delivery options around here.”
“Never crossed my mind.” His lips tilted up at the corner. “I like cooking.” He twirled a lock of her hair around his finger. “There was time today to put together a meal. Fair warning, it’s a simple chicken pot pie.”
“But you had work.”
“So did you.” His eyebrows flexed into a frown. “Come on. We just need to heat it up and throw the biscuits on top to bake through.” He opened his door and stepped out of the car.
She hurried to do the same. “Pot pie sounds amazing.” Homey and thoughtful to the point that her heart was tossing confetti again.
“Could be slow,” he warned.
“More time with you?” She laid a hand on her heart as he pulled her suitcase from the trunk. “That’s an easy yes.”
“You really are remarkable, Natalie.”
She bobbed a little curtsy, wishing she felt remarkable. “Thank you.” The whole casual date seemed to be gaining a significance she hadn’t anticipated or prepared for. They dropped the bags at the kitchen door, then walked down to get the fire going.
As they returned to the house for the food and drinks, he glanced around. “You guys should have a grill out here,” he said. “One more amenity on the listing.”
She chuckled, her mind immediately going to Celeste and Fire Chief Miller. “We used to have a big grill with an outdoor kitchen.” She opened the slider. “It burned down a few months back. Arson.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Crazy but true.” Belatedly, she realized he was staring at her through the open door. She reached back and pulled him inside. “No one told you?” He shook his head, so she explained. “Celeste was here alone that day. She’d gone down to the beach when she smelled the smoke and came running back. She fought the fire until the fire department arrived.” Natalie rubbed her arms. “Still gives me chills to think about what might have happened if she had been inside the house or possibly seen the arsonist.”
That entire incident took on a new darkness now that a killer had taken a personal interest in her.
“Did they ever find the arsonist?” Trent asked, pulling a cast iron dutch oven from the fridge.
“They did, yes. He was pulling similar stunts in other areas.” She swiped at the air. “My apologies for raining on our parade. Tell me how to help.”
“You don’t have to apologize for anything, and you don’t need to help,” he said. “I’ve got this.” He picked up a cooler in one hand and the cast iron in the other. “If you’ll grab the basket with plates and such.”
“Happy to.” The man had thought of every detail and when they were settled at the firepit, the dutch oven hanging over the flames, Trent pulled the rest of the story out of her. “We were so frustrated when she was the prime suspect. I’m just thankful that nonsense didn’t last long. We still haven’t decided if or how we’ll rebuild the outdoor kitchen. The biggest loss was the emotional hit. That grill was basically our last tie to Dad.”
Trent stilled. “Your dad passed away too?”
“No.” She sighed, willing away the resentment. “No, he just walked away from fatherhood when our mom died. That sounds a lot more dramatic and bitter when I say it out loud. We were all grown up when she got sick.”
“None of you have contact with him?”
“Not really. I think we all attempt to reach out in our own ways, but that doesn’t mean he responds. At least not to Celeste or me. I suspect Veronica actually talks to him.” She took a deep cleansing breath. It wasn’t as if her dad didn’t have a good reason to resent her right back.
“Doesn’t that upset you?”
“Not when I think about other things,” she replied. “I can’t change him. I’m not enough on my own to entice him to visit.” She held up a hand. “Before you think that sounds like a load of self-pity, that avoidance extends to my sisters. The three of us together aren’t enough to bring him to Brookwell. But I feel a teensy bit more responsible.”
