She let herself into the house, expecting for an instant to be greeted by a slavering, enthusiastic dog, until she remembered she had dropped Leo off to stay with Claire and Riley for the weekend because of her hectic schedule.
Her house seemed to echo with a vast emptiness. She told herself that was the reason she felt so unsettled. She had become used to the dog these past few weeks and didn’t quite know now what to do without him.
She had worked hard for the restaurant, just as she had worked hard to make this place her home.
She was happy and content—though she had a feeling people who were truly happy and content didn’t have to try so hard to convince themselves of it.
Though she hadn’t had time for dinner, she couldn’t bear the thought of food right now. A glass of wine, maybe, to celebrate. She found a bottle in the back of the refrigerator and pulled out a wineglass from the cabinet.
She poured a small amount and then on impulse headed for the door leading to her small backyard and patio. She could sit on the back step in the moonlight and listen to the rippling water of Currant Creek and toast herself for a job well done.
She decided the moon offered enough illumination so she opened the door without turning on the outside lights.
Her mind on the long day at the restaurant and all the preparation she needed to do for the dinner crowd tomorrow—tonight, now—she made it down three steps before she suddenly realized something was very different from the way she had left things.
The wineglass almost slipped from her finger but she managed to hang on to it.
What in the world?
In the moonlight, a dark low-slung shape took pride of place, angled toward the creek. A chair, wrapped in a bow.
For just an instant, she thought this might be a gift from her very own Angel of Hope but then reality intruded. The Angel visited the wounded, the downtrodden, those who were struggling with pain and loss.
Everything in her life was going exactly the way she wanted. Why on earth would the Angel waste time on her?
Not the Angel. Sam.
What you need is a big comfortable chair right there on the back patio so you can unwind out here with the sound of the water. While your dog plays in the grass, of course.
Those had been his words, the day he and Ethan had first come to her house. She remembered them as clearly as if he were standing here now.
Sam had done this. She was suddenly sure of it. She rushed back up the steps and flipped on the porch lights so she could see better.
It was stunning. Built in the Adirondack style, of red cedar stained to show the wood grain, the chair had wide armrests and a curving back. A matching leg rest angled down and looked just the thing for relaxing on a summer afternoon.
Beside it was a small round table of the same cedar, the perfect size for holding a pitcher of lemonade and a paperback novel.
She traced a hand over the wood, smooth as chocolate ganache. Beautiful. Simply beautiful.
He had made this. She knew it. Warmth burst through her like fireworks over Hope’s Crossing in July and she quickly peeled away the ribbon in the half light of the moon.
That owl—probably the same one who had been keeping her company on her late-night walks—hooted from the treetops of the cottonwoods along the creek. For once, the sound didn’t leave her melancholy. She was too busy being delighted at the gift.
He’d left a note, she saw, taped to the back of the chair. It was too dark to make out the words, even with plenty of moonlight, so she held it up to the glow from the light fixture beside the back door.
With all your hard work today, I figured your bones would probably need a place to rest. Now, this is a sanctuary.
She clutched the note to her chest. Oh, she was in trouble. Sam Delgado was becoming very good at sneaking his way under all her defenses. She was beginning to forget all the reasons she needed to keep trying.
All evening, she hadn’t been able to resist peeking through the kitchen doors every once in a while and somehow her gaze had always seemed to fall on Sam. The only thought that had played through her mind whenever she had seen him was how right he looked, laughing and joking with her family and friends, just as if he had been part of the group forever.
She eased into the chair cushion he had thoughtfully provided. The chair was ergonomically perfect, providing exactly the right support. Her weary bones definitely needed this.
She smiled and then laughed out loud as she sat on her back patio while the creek rippled over rocks, its song an endless comfort.
Yes. Finally, here on her back patio, came the joy and happiness that had been missing all evening. How had Sam instinctively guessed what would make the night perfect?
And how on earth was she supposed to be able to resist a man who was capable of such sweet thoughtfulness?