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Still locked into the painting, she just nodded.
Sean made short work of the cleanup and carried the armload of cardboard out of her office and down the hall to the back entrance. A blast of cold air hit him in the face as he exited the building, and he quickly dumped the trash into the dumpster before heading back inside.
Amalie was plumping pillows on the sofa when he returned.
“What do you think?” she asked, as she gestured around the room.
But Sean’s eyes were on her. “Beautiful. Just beautiful.”
She turned, realized he was looking at her and not the room, and froze.
For a second, every improper thought possible was running through their heads until Sean came to his senses and made himself focus on anything but taking her to bed.
“Have you had lunch?” he asked.
“No, but I did have breakfast from Granny Annie’s Bakery, and I have been in the sack of doughnut holes I brought back from there, too.”
“She’s my great-aunt, one of my grandmother’s sisters. They were Popes.”
Amalie shook her head. “I am in continued awe of your roots in this place.”
“Not growing up here, so am I, and I just spent the morning at the vet’s office, cleaning up a virus on their computers, and I’m starving. Will you come eat with me?”
“I’d love it, but I need to wash up first.”
“I better do that, too. I’ve been dodging runaway catsand endured being barked at for two solid hours. I even caught a runaway parakeet named Peter Pan, before Captain Hook, the vet’s three-legged cat, could catch it.”
Amalie’s eyes lit up. “You’re not serious.”
“As a heart attack,” he said.
She grinned. “Your life is far more interesting than mine. Give me a sec to wash up and then the washroom is all yours.”
“Where do you want to eat?” he asked.
“At the table with you,” she said, and disappeared into the back room.
The lump in Sean’s throat was there before he knew it. She was already under his skin and burrowing deeper by the minute.
By the time they left the office, the wind was playing havoc with hairdos, making Amalie glad she’d left her hair in the ponytail.
“How do you feel about Trapper’s Bar and Grill?” Sean asked, as he backed away from the curb.
“Love it,” Amalie said, and then frowned. “Got any relatives there?”
“A couple,” Sean said. “Remember the little girl from the chopper crash who was trapped with Dani in the school? Her father, Louis Glass, works there. His wife was a Pope. Her name is Rachel.”
Amalie nodded. “I only ask because I don’t want to be picking my nose and embarrass myself in front of your kin.”
Sean grinned.
Amalie settled back to enjoy the ride.
The best part about entering Trapper’s was that it was warm and out of the wind. Music was playing. A dozen televisions mounted on walls were all tuned into different sports channels with closed captions for dialogue.
Chatter and laughter overrode the music, and waiters and waitresses were doing little dance steps as they wove their way through the tables and booths with menus and trays.
As soon as they were seated in their booth, Sean and Amalie shed their coats, gave their drink orders to their waiter, and began looking through the menu.
