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“My antlers?”
She motioned to the chimney where the prized head of a deer his grandfather had killed years ago gazed impassively down. “I s’pose you’re into hunting too.”
Too? What was that about? “Uh, no.”
“Really?” She shifted on the couch, eyes wide with surprise. “You don’t hunt?”
Sam reached across to pass the popcorn bowl to Sarah. “He doesn’t like guns.”
She positioned the bowl precariously between them on the lounge and grabbed a handful of popcorn. “Really?”
Why? Was there something wrong with that? He had a gun in the cottage for the rare bear scare, but he’d never gotten it out of its secured box, let alone fired it.
“Why’s that?”
“He thinks guns are too violent.”
Thanks, Sam. Really appreciate it.Sarah’s amused expression was disconcerting, as was the snicker she no longer hid.Stop acting like a mute. “What?”
“It’s just funny. You’re not into violence, yet you play hockey, which has to be one of the most violent sports on earth, and you like James Bond movies, which are full of crazy action scenes that aren’t exactly gentle. I love it!” Smiling, she turned back to the screen.
Whoa. His heart skipped a beat. Did she say she loved—?
“What about you, Sarah? You don’t seem to mind the James Bond violence either.”
Sam’s voice pulled Dan out of confusion. That was more like it—thanks, Sam.
Sarah flashed them another smile. “I’m a redhead. I’m genetically predisposed to get a little more fierce and passionate than some.”
Finally Dan recognized his cue. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
“Thanks for not noticing.”
“You’re welcome.”
As the movie shifted to another scene, he reached into the popcorn bowl at the same time as she did. The touch of her hand shot fire to his nerve endings.
Sarah caught his gaze, then leaned in closer to whisper, “I’m really glad you don’t like guns. I don’t like them either.”
She turned back to the movie, but he couldn’t remember what it was called anymore. Watching Sarah’s animated face, every wince or flicker of enjoyment, was far more entertaining. She was way more appealing than any of James Bond’s leading ladies.
But time was running out. Would she ever reconsider just being friends?
* * *
Sarah satat the dining table, trying to follow the conversation between Dan, John, and Ange, trying to smile and look interested while hiding the pain that was pooling in her chest. All week as she’d counted off the last things—the last boat trip, last day of fishing, final swim, final meal together—she’d not allowed herself to really think about Dan’s departure. He had commitments in Toronto, he had to go, but she knew she would miss him so much. These past weeks had restored her soul and her relationship with God. She felt more like herself than she had in years. So much of that was due to Dan. He’d been such a good friend.
But honestly, who was she kidding? The touch of his hand was enough to make her tummy curl. His hugs, his smile, even the scent of his aftershave had some crazy effect on her senses. But as much as she liked him, there couldn’t be any future there. He’d go back to his hockey stardom, and she’d go back to Australia to pick up the broken pieces of her life. She was so glad they’d agreed on the friends thing. It’d be stupid to think otherwise.
Dan finished his cup of coffee and pushed back his chair. “Well, that’s it. I’m off.”
“Bye, Dan.” John stood and shook hands. “We’ll see you in T.O. soon.”
Ange gave him a hug. “Take care. Drive safe.”
Dan glanced across at Sarah. “Walk me out?”
She nodded, stood, and followed him slowly down the cottage’s hall, emotion clogging her throat, banding her chest.
