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He rose to his feet and crossed the room. When he caught her wrist in a light grasp, she stopped. His touch on her skin made a shiver roll through her body. “One more thing, Fliss.”
She eyed him warily. “Yes?”
His thumb rested over her thundering pulse. “I’ve promised to think about finding a replacement so you can leave New York. But it seems only fair that you give some thought to staying.”
“Staying?” She parroted the word.
“Staying,” he said softly. “I think we could make it work for nine months.”
His time frame was clear. She stared at him—those sculpted masculine lips. The late-night stubble on his firm jaw. His mesmerizing eyes.
He was wrong. For Felicity to remain under Wynn’s roof would be to howl at the moon so far out of reach. She needed to get away. She had to get away. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll think about it.” But she wouldn’t change her mind. The stakes were too high.
By the time they were airborne Tuesday, Felicity was a nervous wreck. Maybe the memorial service wouldn’t be so bad. She could probably sit back and let her father’s friends take charge.
But she still had to deal with the funeral home. And her father’s final trip back to Falcon’s Notch.
Missy was playing with the baby. Wynn was on his computer doing work. Felicity sat in the back row—alone—with too much time to think.
When they landed at a small airport near her uncle’s home—and by default, her father’s as well—Wynn had arranged for two cars to pick them up. The three adults and baby in one, and all their gear in the second vehicle.
The hotel was a generic chain, but on the high end. Missy spoke up when they were unloading. “I’ll be happy to keep Ayla in my room tonight so you two can rest. I know that funerals are stressful.”
Felicity saw Wynn freeze momentarily. She knew his plan had been to keep the baby with him and that Felicity and Missy would share.
When Missy walked toward the building, carrying the baby, Wynn shot Felicity a guarded glance. “I can get a third room,” he said.
Her stomach wobbled. “That might be best.”
Something flashed in his eyes. Disappointment?
Hard to tell.
Half an hour later, everyone was tucked away in their own rooms. Missy was giving the baby a very short nap before dinner. She said she would rather order pizza than go out.
That left Wynn and Felicity to fend for themselves.
They were staying in a small, semirural town off the beaten path. Too far from Disney to be popular, but still with a healthy population of tourists.
When a knock sounded, she checked the peephole and opened the dead bolt. “What’s up?” she asked.
Wynn leaned against the door frame, looking suave and tempting. “I thought you might want to check out the campground where we’ll be tomorrow and then maybe find a restaurant for dinner.”
“It will be a far cry from last night’s meal,” she warned.
He smiled. “I get that. But since I spent most of my formative years living off Vienna sausages and boxed mac and cheese, I think I can handle it.”
“Okay. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Wynn texted Missy to make sure she and the baby were okay. Then he was ready to go. One of the cars he ordered had been left behind for their use.
Felicity climbed into the passenger seat. She and Wynn had both changed into jeans and casual shirts. Even in November, the humidity was noticeable. “Eat first or scouting first?” she asked.
“Let’s find the memorial site. I’ve got the directions pulled up on my phone.”
The Sleeping Pinescampground was about as exciting as its name implied. About half of the spots were empty. The others were occupied by a wide variety of vehicles, everything from teardrop campers to fifth wheels.
As they drove through the entrance, Felicity spotted a small paper sign that said, “Vance Memorial Service 3PM.” Suddenly, her father’s death was all too real. The wave of grief was something she was learning to expect and accept.
