by Irene Hannon
Question answered.
She continued forward and returned the woman’s firm handshake. “Kat Morgan.”
“Nice to meet you.” The older woman inspected the plastic-covered plate. “Those must be for Zach.”
“Yes. They’re sort of a . . . thank-you.”
“Let me tell him you’re here. Come on up to the deck.” Without waiting for a response, Stephanie ascended the steps.
What else could she do but follow?
“Would you like to come in?” Stephanie called the question over her shoulder.
“No, thanks. After I give these to Zach, I’ll leave you two to visit.”
“You don’t have to rush off. I’ll be here awhile. He and I will have ample opportunity to renew our acquaintance.”
“If this is your first night here, though, I’m sure he’d appreciate having you to himself.”
“Hmm.” Stephanie inspected her. “I’ll let you two work that out. Give me a sec.”
She pushed through the sliding glass door that led to what appeared to be a great room. Like the one in the rental house next door, it had a vaulted ceiling—but the space was much smaller, and the floor plan wasn’t as open. She could only follow Stephanie’s progress a short distance before the woman disappeared around a wall.
Left on her own, Katherine surveyed the deck. A glass-topped table set for two, with placemats and cloth napkins and a small vase of wildflowers in the middle, hugged the railing.
Zach had planned a welcome dinner for his aunt.
Thoughtful.
She wandered over and set her offering on the far side of the table.
Was he doing the cooking?
If so—and if it was half as tasty as that blackberry cobbler—his aunt was in for a treat.
As if she’d tuned in to Katherine’s musings, Stephanie reappeared. “He’s putting the finishing touches on dinner, but he’ll be out in a minute or two.” She strolled over and gave the horizon that was visible through the trees a slow sweep. “This is a beautiful spot.”
“Yes, it is.”
After a moment, she swiveled around and leaned back against the railing. “Zach says you’re here on vacation.”
Katherine fidgeted.
What else had he said? Like, had he mentioned how reticent she was? Or how spooked she got whenever people were around?
Best to proceed with caution.
“Yes.”
“I can see the appeal. In all the traveling I’ve done, I’ve never had such positive vibes about a place so fast. I’ve been here barely six hours, and I can already feel my stress level plummeting. I bet you’ve noticed that too.”
The woman hadn’t asked a single question, but her open-ended statements invited responses.
Katherine caught her lower lip between her teeth. Maybe if she asked a few questions, she could shift the spotlight.
“Yes. It’s very peaceful. Tell me about your travels. Are they job related?”
The tiny twinkle that appeared in the other woman’s irises indicated she recognized the diversionary tactic. But she didn’t fight it.
Apparently everyone in the Garrett clan had the know-how-to-take-a-hint-and-back-off gene.
“Yes, my job took me all over the globe. It was quite glamorous . . . on the surface.”
Katherine’s ears perked up. This woman had also had a job that appeared exciting to the world but wasn’t quite as glitzy in reality? Was it possible they were kindred spirits?
Before she could explore that question, Zach opened the sliding door and joined them, wiping his hands on a dish towel. Not a traditional symbol of masculinity—but the snug T-shirt that showcased his muscular chest and broad shoulders, worn jeans that hugged his lean hips, and chiseled jaw more than compensated.
His pulse-quickening smile warmed her from her toes to the tips of her ears as he approached, and she almost groped for the railing to steady herself.
Thank heaven she wasn’t holding the blackberry truffles or they’d be melting into a gooey puddle.
Like she was.
And the man hadn’t yet uttered a word.
“This is a pleasant surprise.” He flipped the towel over his shoulder. “I’d do the introductions, but Aunt Stephanie says she’s already taken care of that.” He shot the older woman a teasing look. “That’s twice in one day.”
A tiny hint of color crept over his aunt’s cheeks.
Must be an inside joke.
“What can I say? I’m a take-charge kind of woman.” His aunt shrugged.
Hmm.
She and Stephanie may not be kindred spirits, after all. In Katherine’s world, others took charge—and she was prone to let them.
Or she had been until she’d walked away to try and regain control over her life.
“More like a woman who knows her own mind,” Zach countered. “Guys respect that, you know. At least the ones worth having do.”
What was this conversation about?
Clueless, Katherine remained silent.
“I agree with you.” Stephanie motioned to the table and changed the subject. “Kat brought you a present.”
Zach leaned closer to examine the plate of perfectly formed truffles, and the musky scent of his aftershave wafted toward her. “No one’s ever given me candy.”
“They’re my specialty.” Somehow she managed to find her voice despite the heady fragrance that was playing havoc with her concentration. “I, uh, wanted to thank you for the cobbler.”
“You made these?”
“Yes—using the local blackberries for flavoring.”
“Blackberry truffles?” Stephanie joined him, lifted the plastic wrap, picked one up, and examined it. “This is beautiful.”
“If you touch it, you have to eat it. House rule.” One side of Zach’s mouth rose.
“No hardship, trust me—and I doubt one will suffice.” She directed her next comment to Katherine. “I have to confess—I’m a chocoholic.”
“And how.” Zach chuckled. “She inhaled Eleanor Cooper’s fudge cake today.”
Katherine raised her eyebrows. “Who’s Eleanor Cooper?”
Zach filled her in. “You should stop by the shop and try a piece. On the house.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I just repaid one debt. I don’t want to go back into hock.”
“It will be my treat,” Stephanie said. “I’m going back tomorrow for another piece myself. Come with me.”
Katherine fought the temptation to accept. “I only go into town for supplies.”
“In that case, pencil a trip to The Perfect Blend on your calendar during your next shopping trip. We’ll go together.”
Zach’s aunt really was a take-charge woman.
But while Simon’s high-handedness rankled, Stephanie’s came across as more benevolent.
“I’ll think about it. Thank you for the offer. I hope you enjoy those.” She waved toward the plate and eased back.
“Why don’t you join us for dinner?” Zach tugged the towel off his shoulder. “I always double recipes and put the leftovers in the freezer for future meals. Our menu tonight is garlic-pepper marinated salmon with green beans amandine and au gratin potatoes.”
Her mouth began to water. Much as she enjoyed chocolate-making, cooking wasn’t her forte. Omelets and salads were about the extent of her repertoire.
Stocking up on takeout dinners from the Myrtle Café in town had been inspired, but the local eatery’s excellent fare didn’t compare to the menu Zach had planned for tonight.
The longer she was around these people, however, the higher the probability she’d let an identifying nugget slip—or one of them would recognize her.
Not worth the risk.
“Thank you, but I wouldn’t want to intrude. I imagine you and your aunt would like to catch up.”
“It was her idea.” Zach nudged the older woman.
“That’s true. I told him in the kitchen we should invite you.” Stephanie swept a hand over the table. �
��All we have to do is add another place setting. And I for one would love to hear how you learned to make such exquisite truffles. If they taste as delicious as they look, I have a feeling you’re in the wrong business—whatever business you’re in.”
The last comment cinched her decision.
If she succumbed to temptation and stayed, the subject of her background would come up. Those were the sorts of topics new acquaintances chatted about. While she could deflect queries and redirect the conversation during a short visit like the cobbler break she and Zach had shared, playing dodgeball over the length of a leisurely dinner would be difficult—and stressful.
She had to go.
“I can’t stay tonight—but welcome to Hope Harbor, Ms. Garrett.”
“Stephanie.”
“Stephanie. Enjoy your meal. You have a perfect night for outdoor dining.”
“You’re certain we can’t convince you to stay?” Zach sent a distracted glance toward the two amiable seagulls who’d followed her over and were sitting side by side a few yards away, their unblinking stare riveted on the trio on the deck.
“Not tonight.”
“I’ll return the plate from the truffles.”
“No hurry. Have a pleasant evening.”
With that, she escaped.
Not until she was safely back on the other side of the insulating stand of coniferous trees did she slow her pace.
That had been close.
Too close.
It wasn’t that Zach or his aunt posed any danger. Every instinct in her body told her she could trust them to keep her secret if they happened to discover it.
No, the danger next door was of a different sort.
It was named Zach.
Stifling a sudden surge of longing, she stepped onto her deck as the two seagulls soared back and landed on her lawn with a flutter of wings. A moment later, the faint peal of female laughter drifted her direction from next door.
It appeared Zach and his aunt were having fun.
No surprise there. The two of them seemed to share a zest for life and a ready sense of humor.
She braced her hands on the railing and watched the sun descend toward the horizon.
Too bad she couldn’t have joined them for what would no doubt be a lively, engaging dinner.
And too bad she hadn’t met Zach under different circumstances. The spark between them could have had serious potential.
But their lives were on different trajectories, and until she decided whether a course correction was in her future, it wasn’t fair to either of them to get involved in anything more than a casual, next-door-neighbor friendship. If she ended up going back to Hollywood, a relationship with a coffee shop owner in a tiny Oregon coast town would never work.
One more incentive to get her act together and decide what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.
Fast.
Because living in limbo stunk.
7
“Beautiful presentation.” Stephanie draped her napkin over her lap as Zach set her plate in front of her. “And it smells divine.”
He put his own plate down and slid into his chair. “These are all tried-and-true recipes. There shouldn’t be any unpleasant surprises, like the ones my early culinary efforts produced. I have blackberry cobbler for dessert—but I have a feeling chocolate is going to trump my offering.” He folded his hands. “Shall we say a blessing?”
“By all means.” She motioned for him to proceed.
After offering a brief prayer of thanks, he lifted his head to find Stephanie watching him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She picked up her fork. “Just wondering.”
“About what?”
“Your neighbor. She intrigues me.”
That made two of them.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. There’s an aura about her that awakens the motherly instinct in me—not that I’ve had much opportunity to be maternal in my life, so it’s possible I’m misreading the cue.” His aunt speared a piece of salmon. “What do you know about her?”
“Not much. On the few occasions we’ve talked, she’s told me very little about herself.”
“Curious. How long will she be here?”
“Also a tidbit she hasn’t passed on.”
“Well, whatever her story, I like her.”
“How can you tell after such a brief meeting?”
“How long did it take you to like her—or more?” A dimple appeared in his aunt’s cheek as she appraised him.
Dang, she had excellent intuitive abilities.
He concentrated on scooping up a forkful of potatoes as he composed his answer. “I noticed her the first day she came into the shop.”
“And I bet it didn’t take long for the spark of attraction to ignite.”
“Can I plead the Fifth?”
“You can—although the evidence is compelling. I may not have much personal experience with romance, but it’s easy to recognize. And in your case, it’s mutual.”
Also his conclusion—but how had his aunt picked up on it in a handful of minutes?
Whatever her technique, why deny his interest?
“You’re a perceptive woman.”
“Thank you. Reading people was an asset in my business—as I expect it was in your former career. I learned to spot and interpret subtle cues . . . and not-so-subtle cues, in the case of you two. Your body language spoke volumes.”
“I’m not going to dispute your conclusions—but I doubt there’s much future in them. For all I know, Kat could pack up and leave tomorrow.”
“Unless you give her a reason to extend her stay.”
“Hard to do when she goes out of her way to avoid me.”
“Not tonight.”
“But she didn’t linger. Besides, an extended stay doesn’t solve the long-term problem. Eventually she’ll go back to her real life, wherever that is. Getting involved with someone like that is a recipe for heartbreak.”
“Unless both people are willing to consider a few compromises.”
A muscle in his jaw clenched. “I’ve made too many of those already in my life.”
“Mmm.” She cut a green bean in half. “In that case, you could have an impasse.”
“That’s why it would be smarter to walk a wide circle around her.”
“Yet you invited her to dinner.”
“It was your idea.”
“I’ll concede I voiced it first.”
He shifted in his seat. “It was the polite thing to do.”
“Uh-huh.” Stephanie continued to eat, but her tone implied she wasn’t buying his explanation. “She strikes me as someone I’d enjoy getting to know. Would you mind if I paid her a visit while you’re at work?”
“Not at all.” If Kat wouldn’t open up to him, perhaps she’d find another female more simpatico. And he’d wager a month’s income from The Perfect Blend that his neighbor needed someone to talk to. “I think she likes to walk on the beach. If you plan to explore a bit, you could run into her while you’re down there.”
“I may try that approach first. A casual meeting would be less intimidating to someone who’s reluctant to talk about herself.”
Bumping into Kat on the beach hadn’t loosened her tongue in his case—but why mention that?
For the rest of the meal, Stephanie kept him entertained with amusing stories, humorous insights, and tales of her adventures all over the world, filling his usually quiet deck with witty banter and laughter.
As she finished her potatoes and set her fork down, she exhaled. “That was wonderful, Zach.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. I have to warn you, though—my usual dinners tend to be simpler.”
“Perfect. If I ate like this every night, I’d lose my girlish figure. And speaking of usual routines, I don’t want you to change any of yours for me. I’m perfectly capable of entertaining myself.”
“Other than my hours at the shop, my schedule is flexible—and I want to spe
nd my free time getting reacquainted with you.”
“Are you certain I won’t be intruding on your social life?”
He grinned. “If that’s a subtle attempt to ask whether I’m active on the dating scene, the answer is no.” The corners of his lips leveled off. “My heart wasn’t in it after we lost Josh, and once I decided to make major changes in my life, the transition required all my energy and attention.”
“Your business appears to be established now, and from what I’ve observed, you’re settled in here at the house. It’s not healthy for a young man like you to be a hermit.”
“I’m not. I’m involved at church, and I’m active in the Helping Hands organization I mentioned earlier. In fact, there’s a meeting I’m supposed to attend tomorrow night about a new project, but I may forgo that. I don’t want you to spend the evening alone on your first full day in town.”
“Why don’t I go with you? Or would that be frowned upon?”
“The gathering is open to anyone who’s interested—but haven’t you attended enough meetings to last two lifetimes?”
“Depends. Is this one going to be as boring as listening to business managers drone on about accruals, depreciation, amortization, ROI, and EBIDA?”
He winced. “Sounds like an echo of my past life. The answer is no. Numbers may be discussed, but only in the context of the larger project.”
“Which is?”
“You sure you’re interested in this?”
“I’m interested in everything—in case you haven’t already figured that out.” She winked at him.
“Okay. I’ll give you the condensed version. Aside from a paid director, Helping Hands is a volunteer organization that does exactly what the name says. If someone’s in need, the group recruits volunteers to help. On occasion, the organization becomes more proactive if a worthwhile proposal is presented. That’s what happened with Hope House—the latest project. The idea was brought forward by our police chief’s husband, Adam Stone, who’s an ex-con.”
Stephanie’s eyebrows peaked. “Talk about opposites attracting.”
“Yeah—but from all indications, the matchup is working fine. Anyway, he read about an organization that purchases houses and provides houseparents so foster sibling groups can be kept intact and raised in a stable, loving home setting rather than being split up and bounced around from place to place. He hoped Helping Hands would be interested in sponsoring a house like that.”