“Are we talking about Leo here or Sam Delgado?”
Apparently diversions could only take a woman so far when it came to her best friend, who knew her better than anyone else on earth. But even Claire didn’t know all her secrets.
“Ha, ha. He’s actually a widower. Believe me, I asked. His wife died of cancer a couple years ago.”
“Oh, the poor man.”
“He was also an Army Ranger at one time, just like Dylan Caine. I guess he left the service after his wife’s diagnosis.”
“That’s admirable. Not many men would give up their career to take care of their ailing wife. So do you like him?”
Entirely too much. And the more she talked about him—and thought about him—the more she liked him. Annoyance with herself and frustration with the situation made her tone sharper than she intended.
“Last I checked, we’re not in junior high anymore. I’m past the stage of handing you notes about the cute boy in my social studies class.”
Claire blinked but her gaze quickly sharpened and Alex could have kicked herself. She might be sweet and kind, but Claire was no idiot. If Alex acted touchy and hypersensitive about just the mention of Sam Delgado, Claire would quickly surmise there was more simmering between them than casual friendship.
She hurried to make amends. “Sorry. That was mean. I miss being in junior high with you.”
“Life certainly seems easier when a girl is twelve.”
In some respects, not all. Claire’s father had been murdered in a torrid love triangle when they were young, and even then her own father had had one foot out the door, though they had all been too blind to see it.
On impulse, she reached out and hugged Claire, pregnant belly, gardening gloves and all. She dearly loved all four of her actual sisters but Claire was her BFF. In their case, the forever really meant something.
“Sam is a nice guy but that’s all. He’s building my kitchen and I’m not going to do anything to screw that up.”
Claire pressed her cheek to hers. “Like break his heart, you mean?”
Or let him sneak close enough to break hers.
“Something like that.”
After a moment, she eased away. “I really do need to go. Sorry I can’t stay, but my shift is starting soon and I left a horrendous mess in my kitchen at home. Leo, come on. You and Chester can hang another time.”
She shepherded the dog into the backseat again, hugged Claire one last time, blew a kiss to Owen—busy now, untangling fishing line in the driveway—then drove away.
This was the important part of her life, she thought as she headed toward Currant Creek Valley. Her family, her friends, the people she cared about in town. She was perfectly happy with her life and didn’t need anything else—especially not a man with serious dark eyes and a mouth that tasted like heaven.
CHAPTER SIX
NEARLY A WEEK after that stunning kiss, Sam had reached the inescapable conclusion that Alexandra was avoiding him.
She seemed to have unerring instincts for visiting the restaurant to check their progress just as he stepped out for lunch or left to pick something up at the building supply store on the edge of town.
His crew all seemed to like her, even Silent Joe, and reported that she had told them all how much she loved the way her kitchen was coming together. To him, she had left only a quickly scribbled note the second time he had missed her, which read, Looks great, Sam. You’re a genius with a hammer.
He might have resorted to stopping at her current restaurant up at the Silver Strike Resort just for an excuse to see her again, but every time he had considered making a reservation, he had decided against it.
After she had driven away so abruptly the other night without giving him an answer when he had asked point-blank to see her again, it had been easy enough to figure out that was her answer.
She obviously had her reasons for avoiding him. If that’s the way she wanted things, what the hell else could he do? He wasn’t some kind of creepy stalker guy. When a woman made it clear she wasn’t interested, he moved on.
That didn’t mean he had to be happy about it, especially after they shared a kiss that had rocked him to the core.
The gloomy, rainy morning matched his mood as he headed into her sister’s coffee place and bookstore for a midmorning caffeine jolt for his crew.
He just finished ordering for the guys from their complicated list—who knew Silent Joe liked café au lait, extra foamy?—when some gut instinct kicked in. It was probably the same sixth sense that had carried him to the other side of so many dangerous situations when he had been deployed.
He turned around and there she was a few spaces behind him in line at the coffee counter, talking with an older woman who shared the same green eyes behind trendy glasses.