Hope tagged along as Donovan was led to an intimate table in the back. She almost wished they’d been placed at the bar because sitting across from him was almost too much. This table for two was meant for holding hands and gazing into each other’s eyes. She was happy when the menu was set in front of her. Even happier when the food arrived quickly so she could focus on it instead of how blue Donovan’s eyes were. And how those eyes used to be filled with love for her. He was so good-looking and so generous with his smiles for others . . . and today he’d been generous with his smiles for her, too.
The seafood was fantastic and Hope ate heartily; shopping, plus being near Donovan all day, had worked up her appetite. When the waiter brought their decaf coffees at the end of their meal, Donovan scooted closer, making her world tilt a little. If it’d been another time, she would have leaned over and kissed him. Laid one on him because that was what the moment called for. And what her heart wanted to do.
“Is your notebook in your purse? I thought of a couple more things we should do before we head back tomorrow.”
Like make out? But that was her adolescent brain rearing its silly head. Her single-mom brain told her to move away from him and get a grip. Put a lid on it. Treat Donovan like he was a stranger and not like she’d loved him all her life. “Yes. Right.” Besides, they weren’t a couple. He was her boss and she was the hired help. She reached in her bag, pulled out the old composition notebook that Ella had used last year in natural sciences, and flipped to a clean page. “Go ahead.”
He listed several places to visit and then the waiter brought the check. Hope got a glimpse of the total; her bank balance couldn’t even afford the tip. “Thanks for dinner. And for picking up the hotel.”
“It’s a business expense.”
“But still . . .” Hope hadn’t eaten out in forever. The truth was that tonight would be her first night in a hotel since Ella was born, while for Donovan it was probably old hat.
He reached over and touched her arm. “Ready to head out?”
She gazed at his hand, wondering at the solid touch of him, and she felt light-headed.
He immediately dropped his hand, and once again, she felt awkward, self-conscious. She looked down at the notebook on the table and couldn’t, for a second, remember why it was there. But then she got it together. “Some stores are open until nine. We should take care of the towels and linens. Don’t you think?”
“Agreed,” he said.
An hour and a half later, with the car loaded down, they headed to the hotel. Hope stayed in the car to call Ella while Donovan checked them in.
“Hey, Mom,” Ella answered, giggling.
Oh, no! Had she been drinking?
“Where’s Piney?” Hope asked.
“She’s at the front door, telling Bill good-bye,” Ella said, barely able to get the words out.
“What’s going on there?” Hope asked sternly.
“I’m on the floor and Boomer won’t stop jumping on me and licking me like I’m a dog lollipop.” Ella gurgled with laughter. “Stop it.”
“How was school today?”
“The usual.”
“How did the makeup exam go?”
“All right, I guess.”
“You’re going to have to buckle down, Ella. College applications are right around the corner.”
“Come on, Mom.” Ella huffed like college was light-years away.
“I miss you,” Hope said, trying to counteract the nagging. “I wish I were there.”
“So you could be on my case even more?”
Hope sighed. “No. What did you do at the lodge this afternoon? Organize the garage?”
“Nah. Piney had me sew up a dog bed for Boomer.”
Hope rolled her eyes at the phone. She’d have to talk to Piney about spoiling Ella. “You know you’re going to have to do manual labor like cleaning, right?”
Ella ignored her. “I like Piney’s sewing machine. The thread doesn’t get knotted up every other second like yours does. When are you getting home?”
“Hopefully early evening. I’ll send you a list of things to do tomorrow.”
“Okay.” But it sounded like Whatever.
“Can you tell Piney to give me a call?”
“She’s right here.” Ella must’ve handed her the phone because she said, “It’s Mom.”
“Hey, buttercup, how goes the shopping?” Piney chirped.
“A whirlwind. Donovan has bought out Anchorage. But we need to talk about you coddling Ella. She’s nearly grown and she understands she needs to work.”
Piney ignored her and whispered into the phone, “So how are the two of you getting along? Two peas in a pod, eh?”
“No. Just a boss and an employee.” Hope saw Donovan coming out of the hotel. “Take care of my girl. I’ll text when we leave the city tomorrow.”
Piney laughed. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Hope hung up. That innuendo wasn’t helping her already frayed nerves. Didn’t Piney understand how being cozied up in the car all day, and then shopping with the sexiest guy Hope knew, was pure torture? Delicious torture. The kind of torture that had Hope wishing for a good-night kiss . . . and possibly more.
Hope jumped as Donovan opened his door.
“We’re all set,” he said. “Our rooms are near the back entrance.” He handed her the key envelope. “Room 129.”
She didn’t say anything. Couldn’t say anything for fear of saying something suggestive. Something like . . . Let’s share a room and save the expense of two. But her living in a fantasy world had to stop. He didn’t feel about her the way she felt about him.
When he parked, she pulled out her small duffel bag and nearly ran for the door. But he beat her there and scanned his key card and held the door open for her.
“Thanks.” Her room was the first one on the left, and she knew she’d be able to breathe any minute . . . once she got in her room with the door closed behind her. And when she did, she was going to give herself a stern talking-to about not reviving her crush on the man who’d broken her heart.
She scanned her key card, then reached for the knob, knowing peace and calm were only feet away. But as she pushed her door open, Donovan gently grabbed her arm, stopping her.
“Wait,” he said.
She turned to find him gazing at her, his eyes searching hers.
“Yes?” Or was she saying yes!? Her body certainly felt like molding itself up against him. Maybe even purring a little, too, because the way he was looking at her was making her heart pound faster.
“I want to thank you.” He let go of her arm. “You’ve been a real trooper today.”
Her outlandish expectations plummeted, fell to the hallway carpet with a splat. Donovan wasn’t going to pull her into his arms and kiss her passionately. How could she be so incredibly stupid!
“Oh, something else,” Donovan said, awkwardly this time. “There’s one more stop we need to make tomorrow. We need to hit up a clothing store before we head back to Sweet Home.”
He had great clothes. Why was he acting weird?
“What are you needing?”
“Um, it’s not for me.” He cleared his throat as if trying to select his next words carefully. “You need to up your wardrobe, Hope. As hostess for the Wines of Alaska, you’ll need a cocktail dress of some kind.”
“Are you out of your mind? Your grandmother never wore a cocktail dress. Probably in her whole life. Donovan, this is Alaska.”
“I’m trying to attract a certain type of buyer.”
She frowned at him . . . no, glared. “Fine!”
“And while we’re at the mall, I’d like you to get some other new clothes for yourself.”
As she opened her mouth, he put his hand up.
“Before you argue, it’s not a handout, it’s busines
s. You’re the housekeeper, a representative of Home Sweet Home Lodge, right?”
She was fuming now. “I’m not wearing a housekeeper’s uniform, if that’s what you’re getting at.” He’d probably want her decked out like a French maid.
He shook his head. “That’s not what I’m thinking. I’m thinking something like a concierge’s dress.”
“A dress and heels for the housekeeper of an Alaskan lodge? Yeah, right. Traipsing through the snow between the cabins and the lodge in my kitten heels, then scrubbing floors in a stylish dress? Quite the picture.”
“Just some nice slacks and a blouse, then,” he countered.
“I don’t have that kind of money—” She was going to add you egotistical idiot, but she made herself stop before she got fired.
“I’m buying. Maybe while we’re at the mall, you can pick up a couple of things that Ella needs, too.”
So Donovan was embarrassed by both his daughter and his daughter’s mother. Great!
“Good night, Donovan!” She tried to escape inside, but he wedged his foot in the door.
“Don’t be mad.” Just like that, a wave of memories came flooding in, until she felt as if she might drown. How many times had he said that to her when they were teenagers and in love? She’d been a ball of hormones then, taking things wrong, reading things into his words that weren’t there, not realizing that boys didn’t think things through before opening their mouths. Apparently, men didn’t either!
“I’m not mad, Donovan; I’m furious. Now you can leave. You’ve insulted me enough for one evening, don’t you think?” How could she have allowed Donovan Stone to wound her again?
To his credit, he looked ashamed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.” He let go of the door and it shut.
But a second later, there was a knock.
“What?” she barked.
“I’m going out for a while,” he said through the door.
It was late. Where could he be going at this hour, besides a bar? Which he shouldn’t be doing. Had she driven him to drink?
“I’m going to a meeting,” he explained, as if reading her mind. “Text me if you need anything.”
“Okay,” she said quietly. She was alone. Which was how it was supposed to be.
She padded across the modern room, slipped her shoes off, and flopped onto the king-sized bed, burying her face in the pillow. Well, a few words from him had straightened her out. She’d spent the day thinking he might like her again, be attracted to her, but apparently, he’d just been biding his time, trying to figure out how to tell her that she dressed like a hobo. She kept replaying every moment of the day and it still ended with him calling her a trooper and then telling her that she needed new clothes. She was an idiot.
“Hey,” Izzie said. “You want to talk about it?”
Hope turned over to see Izzie stretched out on the other pillow as if she were luxuriating in the room.
“You know he’s kicking himself for how he handled it,” Izzie said.
“I doubt it. When he gets back, Scrooge McDuck will probably toss his hundred-dollar bills on the bed and roll around in them.”
“I don’t think so. You know he just wanted to do something nice, to help, something you really need, too. He just went about it the wrong way.”
“Because he’s ashamed of me.”
“We’ve talked about this before. He feels bad. He has so much and, let’s face it, you could be the poster child for welfare.”
“Thanks for the reminder that I’m nearly destitute.”
Izzie rolled over and faced her. “But you’re not. It could always be worse.” She sounded just like their mother.
“What am I supposed to do?” Hope asked. “Say thank you for the handout?”
“You’re going to be gracious. You’re going to let him buy clothes for you and Ella. You’re going to allow it because it will bless him. What is the little prayer that you say every morning?
Hope didn’t want to repeat it but Izzie was waiting, giving her that pursed-lip look.
Defeated, Hope sighed. “Please let me be a blessing today.”
“That’s the one. It’s a fine prayer. It’s a perfect way for you to give to others—”
“Because I have nothing else to give,” Hope finished. She offered Izzie a smile, though it was sad. “Thanks.”
“Sleep well. Tomorrow you’ll have a chance to be a blessing again.”
Chapter 15
HOPE STARED SILENTLY out the window of Donovan’s car as they drove back to Sweet Home. Despite Izzie’s admonition to be gracious, Hope had been sullen all morning while Donovan dragged her around the mall from one clothing store to the next. She really tried to be open to his charity but she’d had a lot of practice in making it on her own. When he saw she was in the same mood that he’d left her in last night, he must have figured there was no point trying to cajole her into a happy-to-shop-with-you mood, but that certainly didn’t stop him from buying her several dresses, two pairs of sensible pumps, four pairs of slacks, two sweaters, and five blouses. She half expected him to pick out some underwear and socks for her, too.
Yeah, he must’ve thought he was being sly when, behind her back, he took a winter coat to the counter. She’d looked down at her brown puffy coat and thought, There’s nothing wrong with this. It was still functional and only had one small rip in the sleeve. She was already planning what to do when he presented her with the coat. She’d nod, then give him his money back . . . somehow.
But Hope was happy that they’d found some nice things for Ella. She had never had the cash to do a traditional back-to-school shopping spree, which was what this haul felt like. Ella would be thrilled.
Donovan broke the silence as he pulled into the parking lot of a small-town grocery store. “I need to stop for coffee.” So apparently he’d slept horribly last night, too. “Do you want me to get you some?”
“Thank you, I can get my own,” Hope said evenly, as if she were the queen of Cool, Calm, and Collected.
Although she was none of those things.
The quirky two-story grocery store was fairly empty. She browsed every snack aisle while he ordered his coffee from the only worker in sight. Hope grabbed a small bag of chips and then headed upstairs to see what was there, stalling until Donovan was done so she could order her coffee without him nearby.
Last night had proven she should put the dream of him out of her mind forever. He was nothing but her employer, who wasn’t even going to be in Alaska much longer. He was a stranger to her now, not the boy she’d loved for most of her life. Perhaps she’d never loved him at all, but had made it up, a romantic fantasy. Sure, they’d played together as kids, but that was the only truth she believed in now. She would be cordial, because he was her boss, but she would no longer be looking for signs that there was still something between them. Last night he’d confirmed it. Trooper! He might as well had called her a pal.
After she made a quick tour of the camping gear, board games, and clothing upstairs, she heard Donovan thank the cashier and knew it was safe to head back down. She kept her eyes on him while he pulled out his phone and made a call. Probably making a date with Courtney, the way he was grinning.
Where had that come from? Hope wasn’t supposed to care who he dated, or who he kissed. She was supposed to have a new mind-set—one that didn’t include pining over him.
She was almost to the bottom of the stairs and working really hard to keep her emotions in check. Why had Donovan so inconveniently come back into her life? It was infuriating. And infuriating that he could still affect her this way.
She went for the last step and somehow she missed it. The next moments happened in slow motion. Her ankle rolled, and she fell forward. Donovan turned. Rushed to her. Slipped his arms around her. Caught her. Stopped her, by mere inches, from making a full face-plant, although her outstretched
hand still crushed her chips as they hit the floor.
The pain in her ankle was so immediate that she was barely aware of Donovan holding her—at first. In the next second, she was fully aware she was crushed against him. Someone should bottle Donovan’s embrace for the masses—it was a natural painkiller.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his minty breath sliding past her cheek.
“My ankle,” she gasped. “I think I sprained it.” Tears were misting her eyes, so maybe being in his arms wasn’t the cure-all, after all.
“Can you get me some ice?” he called to the young woman behind the counter. Then he turned back to Hope. “We need to find you a doctor.”
“No! I’m fine.” Her whole adult life, she’d never had health insurance. “I just want to get back on the road.”
He nodded. “I’ll get you to the car and come back in for the ice and our coffees. Cream and sugar?”
“Yes.” She felt stupid for falling off the last step, and even stupider being carried to his vehicle. Insult to injury—literally—he was even buying the coffee that she’d insisted she could get on her own.
“Come on, gimpy, let’s get you settled in the car.” He started them toward the door.
She glared at him.
“Too soon?” he said.
“Yeah.”
“What about ibuprofen? Do you have any with you?” he asked. “You’re going to need it.”
“I don’t know.” She, who prided herself on being prepared! But pain and proximity to his beating heart were fogging her brain so she couldn’t think.
“No worries,” he said. “I’ll get some.”
It was pure bliss—and utter agony—to be held against Donovan, his arm around her waist as he helped her to the SUV. And he smelled so good! It almost made her forget that her swelling ankle hurt like a son of a pipefitter. He was affecting her in ways that could be dangerous to her well-being, so she conjured up unwashed laundry, last Sunday’s crossword puzzle, and roadkill.
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