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“Good. Oh, by the way, I’m baking fish for dinner. It will be ready to serve by six.”
Though he didn’t dine with them every evening, he joined her and Paul often enough for meals that she routinely prepared enough for him. “Sounds good, thanks, but I already have plans for dinner tonight. Actually, I have to leave shortly.”
Bonnie’s brows lifted in surprise. “Really? You’re going out again tonight?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“No reason,” she assured him a bit too nonchalantly. “You’ve just been going out quite a bit lately.”
He tugged one of her loose blond curls, speaking indulgently. “I’m getting all my homework done, Mom.”
She laughed softly and leaned affectionately against him. “I’m not fussing. Just wondering if you’re ever going to introduce us to this woman Kinley and I suspect you’re seeing.”
He kissed her forehead, then stepped away from her. “See you tomorrow, Bonnie.”
“That’s all you’re going to say?”
“Yes.”
She sighed heavily. “Fine. Have a good evening.”
“I intend to.”
Climbing into his truck, he wondered if he should feel guiltier that he and Alexis were deliberately misleading his sisters. By the time he’d driven as far as Bride Mountain Café—perhaps a quarter mile from his house—he’d decided he didn’t feel at all guilty. Just picturing his well-intentioned sisters avidly watching them every time Alexis came to the inn for work made him wince. It would be different if they could just accept the relationship for what it was. He’d briefly dated a few other women in the past few years, and his sisters hadn’t gotten carried away, not expecting him to settle down permanently with any of them. Something told him it would be different with Alexis.
It would be nice, he thought as he left the appliance store with the drive belt in hand, if he and Alexis could just see each other when they wanted to, maybe even go out in public together without everyone making a big deal of it. He wouldn’t mind having dinner with her somewhere other than her kitchen. Preferably somewhere that there wouldn’t even be a chance of them running into curious friends or clients. They’d taken a slight risk of exposure when they’d gone hiking last week, but it had been a calculated risk. They’d be somewhat more likely to be recognized at a local restaurant.
So maybe they should find a restaurant that wasn’t local. One in a different city, entirely.
Say, Seattle, perhaps.
Alexis met him at the door with a slightly distracted smile. “I was just going over my lists,” she admitted, nodding toward the tablet computer on the table. “My plane leaves at eleven tomorrow morning, and I’m always afraid I’ll forget to pack something.”
“Do you have a ride to the airport?”
“Yes, Gretchen’s taking me. She’ll be staying here at my house at night while I’m gone to take care of Fiona and keep an eye on things.”
Shifting his tool bag in his left hand, he moved toward the laundry room. “I’ll get your washer going so you can finish your laundry.”
“I think I have everything important washed for now. What can I do to help you?”
“Stay out of my way. Go pack or fuss in the kitchen or whatever else you need to do and I’ll have this done in a few minutes.”
She was never offended by his bluntness, just another one of the many things he liked about her. “All right. I’ll be in my room packing if you need me.”
As he’d assured her, he changed the belt quickly and efficiently. The machine had an easy-access panel, so it wasn’t a particularly complicated job. He checked his work, tightened everything else in the older machine that seemed to need attention, plugged it back in and made sure it worked as intended, then replaced his tools in the bag. A broom stood in the corner of the little laundry room; he swept the floor quickly to make sure he left it clean. Standing the broom back into place, he frowned suddenly, realizing how domestic this all seemed. He was certainly at ease in Alexis’s house, increasingly familiar with her things, her tastes.
Shaking off that thought, he dropped his tool bag in the living room and went looking for Alexis. He found her in her bedroom, an open suitcase on the bed, piles of clothes stacked neatly around it. Her tablet computer lay close at hand. Knowing her so well, he was quite sure she had a comprehensive list of everything she needed to pack displayed on the screen.
Seeing that she was folding what looked suspiciously like a flame-red silk-and-lace nightgown, he frowned. It occurred to him that he’d never actually seen her in a nightgown. She was usually in street clothes when he arrived and often wrapped in a robe when he left. Though he told himself it was none of his business, he couldn’t help wondering if some other guy would see her in that red thing in Seattle.
“The washer’s fixed,” he said abruptly.
It was obvious she hadn’t seen him standing there when she started in response to his voice. She dropped the nightgown into the suitcase. “That was quick. No problems, I take it?”
“No. Easy job. How’s the packing coming?”
“I’ve finally made myself put away everything I don’t really need to take,” she replied with a laugh. “I’m a notorious overpacker.”
