“How?” He pushed his mug away. It tasted like warm, perfumed water.
“You didn’t let it steep at all.” She took one last sip, hiding a smile behind the mug.
“Now you probably think I was trying to impress you or something.” He watched the dimples at the tops of her cheeks appear.
“Or something,” she said, laughter in her voice.
Their eyes locked. For a moment, Dane felt the draw of some invisible force pulling him closer to her. Or trying to anyway. The kitchen island separated them by three feet. Three agonizing feet.
“What do you think that something might be?” He kept his tone light. Dane couldn’t tear his eyes away from hers. Half of Hilary’s face was lit by the stove lamp, the other half shrouded in shadows. She was beyond beautiful.
“I’m too tired to guess,” she said softly, taking their mugs to the sink. When she turned to him, her eyes were sleepy. She blinked lazily as she pulled her robe tight around her neck again. The ring on her finger flashed from the light above the stove.
“Good night, Dane,” she said.
“Sweet dreams. Better luck this time.”
Dane sat in the kitchen for several minutes, listening to the sound of her footsteps on the stairs. He listened for the soft click of her door and anything else that might give him a mental image before she slipped into bed again. His head was filled with thoughts he hadn’t entertained in a while. A long while. They stirred him and he caught himself smiling. That wall she’d built around herself still stood. But after tonight, he’d finally been able to peer over the top to what lie beyond. And Dane liked what he saw.
This midnight talk with Hilary also brought an unpleasant memory to the forefront again—his disastrously short marriage. Dane kept that one tucked away; he preferred it that way. But sometimes it snuck up on him, especially when he entertained the notion that maybe there was someone else out there for him.
When he found out Felicia cheated on him the night before their wedding three years ago, he was crushed like he’d never been before. He learned of the hookup a week later in the middle of their Alaskan honeymoon. His best man called to tell him one of the groomsmen, a guy Dane had known since grade school, got together with Felicia after the wedding party left the rehearsal dinner. Dane immediately confronted Felicia on the deck of their cruise ship with Dawes Glacier in the background. It took months for the anger and humiliation to subside and even longer before he could muster the mental energy to write heartfelt notes to send along with the gifts he returned to their guests. The marriage was annulled, Felicia moved to Bend, and he resumed life on the farm as a single man. It was far from the ideal life he’d envisioned for himself at age twenty-eight.
In the months after his marriage ended, he questioned himself. How had she blindsided him so easily? Dane wondered how he could be such a poor judge of character. He’d known Felicia since high school. She was class president and a captain of the volleyball team, a real go-getter even though her family moved to the area when she was a teen. During her four years at Oregon State, they stayed in touch, seeing each other once a month when she came back to Clove since their friend circles intertwined. Then one weekend in February, three years after she’d graduated college, a freak snowstorm stranded Dane, Felicia, and six of their mutual friends at the Lake Randolph Ski Resort. It forced them to add an extra two days to what was supposed to be an overnight trip. There, Dane got to know Felicia. Really know her. She loved her work with a nonprofit, dreamed of working in the Peace Corps, and was a fitness fanatic who coached others through home tutorials in her spare time. When he looked back, he saw their goals didn’t align at all. He’d been drawn to her ambition. What he didn’t see was her restlessness, a need to be involved in the next new thing. That wouldn’t have mixed well with his lifestyle. He was Dane Porter, owner of Lavender Lane Farm in Clove, Oregon, and would be for the rest of his life if he were lucky.
Dane slid the stool under the counter and walked through the darkened house. He slipped his boots back on, careful not to lose his balance and clatter into the door or an end table or a piece of lint on the rug. He was beyond clumsy sometimes, hence the lump on his head.
He chuckled as he let himself out of the house. No, the lump on his head happened because he’d been distracted. Sweetly distracted, but distracted all the same.
Chapter Seven
It was well past two o’clock when Hilary finally drifted off to sleep. She slept so solidly that her phone alarm failed to wake her the next morning. It was the sun slicing through the curtains that finally made her stir at a quarter to eight. She popped up, fearing breakfast was over, but was relieved when she heard people outside her door heading downstairs.
Today she was determined to sit in the dining room and eat breakfast with everyone else. No more hiding in her room. It was strange, but she felt a sense of renewed purpose for being there. Maybe she was meant to come to the conference after all, with or without Jorie. She didn’t want to disappoint her sister-in-law anyway. Jorie was right. Opening the B & B would honor Will’s dream for Larkin Farms. Well,herdream too.
In the conference room, a handful of people stood at the buffet. The room was bright and airy, the tall windows revealing another clear day outside. The lake looked calm. There was a ship in the distance, and gulls flew along the shore in perfect synchronicity. Hilary made her way over to the food and lifted the lid on the first serving pan. An egg scramble with peppers, sausage, and cheese. It looked amazing. The light dinner she’d eaten last night was evident now in the way her mouth watered.
Lucy sidled up alongside her.
“Good morning. I wondered if you’d taken breakfast upstairs again when I didn’t see you.”
Her tone was like a song sparrow’s, bright and trilling. Lucy wore another eclectic outfit. A tiny black accordion-pleated blouse and wide-legged red pants. The black Moto boots finished it off again. The outfit was more appropriate for a bridal shower, not stomping around gardens. The girl had fashion guts, that was for sure.
“No, I slept in. I guess this Northwoods air makes me extra sleepy.” Hilary moved along the line to make room for her.
“Did you hear that wind this morning? It was crazy.”
She must have slept solid. Hilary hadn’t heard a thing. “No, not at all.”
“I thought the house would blow off its foundation.” Lucy took a plate from the stack and scooped out some scrambled eggs. “I love that top, by the way. It really says spring to me.”
“Thank you.”
Hilary glanced down at herself momentarily as she set the lid down on the serving pan. She’d intended to save the top for the closing event on the last night of the conference. It was way fancier than what she usually wore now that she didn’t work outside the home. The woman in Claret’s back home said the dark green floral pattern really complemented her hair and eyes. Hilary especially loved the almost sheer sleeves. It was feminine without being fussy, and it suited her mood today.
Hilary finished filling her plate and searched the room for a place to sit. Empty spots at tables nearby tempted her. She should learn the art of small talk if hosting guests was in her future. But an empty table by the window with a view of the lake won her over. She hurried between the tables and set her plate down, claiming it before another introvert beat her to it. She’d practice making small talk some other time. Besides, she was starving, and eating while talking wasn’t going to make her any friends. Hilary scooped up a spoonful of egg.
“I had my eye on this exact spot. Great minds and all that.”
