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“I’m not—” Sarah bit back the rest of her reply and bent her lips upward in something that probably looked more grimace than smile. But at least she wouldn’t have to deal with Ange’s patient looks of compressed lips and sympathetic understanding. She turned to her aunt, changing the subject. “So, where is the best place for coffee around here?”
“Ask Dan. He’s more of a connoisseur than I am.”
She reluctantly turned to the he-god, whose brawny arms were crossed, revealing every sculpted muscle. Was he a professional body builder or something? In addition to his chief role as rescuer, that was. Maybe he was a fireman. Had his own calendar, where he posed with kittens he’d personally saved from trees.
He shrugged. “The Coffee Blend is the best place in town, but the cafe here isn't too bad, if you feel like venturing back inside.”
And potentially see all those who’d just watched her inglorious exit?
Be brave.
“Fine.” That didn’t sound terribly polite. She pasted on a smile—one that didn’t exactly move her cheeks, but it was the best she had right now. “That sounds good.”
Again, he had that disconcerting tweak to his lips, like he found her amusing or something. “Let’s go, then.”
And shrugging off their concern, she reluctantly followed them inside.
* * *
He still didn’t knowwhat had made him agree to coffee with Ange and the princess. He sipped his coffee—tall black, no sugar—making small talk with Ange while Sarah gazed out the lakeview window and nibbled at her chocolate brownie. He’d barely seen Sarah these past few days. She seemed to have perfected the art of disappearing whenever he came on the scene. Still, he was supposed to love his neighbor, right? And yesterday’s sermon on loving the unlovable had struck deep, the knowledge that he was supposed to actually put it into practice pushing him past his initial reluctance to be friendly. Or maybe—his lips quirked—he simply wanted to hear whatever outrageous thing would fall from her mouth next.
“So, is the instructor always like that?” Sarah asked, her gaze shifting between them.
“I think she’s new,” Ange said, brow pleating. “And perhaps alittletoo focused.”
“I think I’ll stick with swimming rather than come back here.” Sarah grimaced.
“You’re not going to let a pushy instructor stop you coming, are you?” he dared.
Sarah’s gaze narrowed.
“Or are you simply living up to your T-shirt again?”
She glanced at her shirt—today’s line readMy good opinion once lost is lost forever—and shrugged. “I can’t help it if Mr. Darcy is right.”
“Mr. Darcy, eh?” Who the heck was he? He glanced at Ange. She was looking at him curiously again.
Ange’s phone chirped, and she excused herself to take the call.
“So, how does this measure up?” he asked Sarah as her gaze flitted back to him.
“Do you mean the coffee, the company, or the view?”
“Any, all of the above.”
“Okay”—she ticked off her fingers—“good, and lovely.”
He rated as good? That was better than okay, at least.
“Actually, scrap that. It’s not good. More like gorgeous.”
He choked on his coffee. She thought he was gorgeous?
Her eyes rounded, cheeks pinking. “I meant this Muskoka area is gorgeous. Not that you’re not attractive, because obviously—I mean—” She faltered to a stop. “Kill me now,” she muttered, pushing back her chair. “Excuse me.”
His lips twitched as she snatched her purse from the table and stalked away. Someone who appreciated Muskoka like he did couldn’t be too bad. He watched as she swerved through diners to the cashier. Wait. She was paying?
She turned to point out their table, saw he was still looking at her. He lifted a hand. She spun back to the cashier, said something else, shook her head.
