“That’s on my list when we get home,” she said, smiling.
Ahead, Jorie made her way down the bus aisle. She looked pointedly at Dane, then at Hilary sitting next to him. The dissatisfaction on her face wouldn’t have been more apparent if the word was written across her forehead with a black Sharpie. She took the empty seat behind them.
“How early can you be up in the morning?” he whispered.
She gave him a sidelong glance, grinning. “As early as need be. Why do you ask?” she whispered back.
“I heard the point near Clearwater Lighthouse is the place to be at sunrise.”
“This sounds like a date.” Her head was almost touching his.
Dane breathed in the floral scent of her shampoo, almost sighing. “It is if you want it to be.”
Her grin widened. She stared at him. “I might,” she whispered back.
He concentrated so fully on her pink lips and the pearly teeth behind the bewitching small smile that her words didn’t register right away.
Hilary leaned forward to pull a piece of paper from her folder, flipping it over to the blank side. Her pen clicked and she wrote:
Let’s keep it on the down-low. I don’t think Jorie is ready for this.
He took the pen, letting his fingers linger on hers for a few seconds more than necessary. The sensation was electric. They exchanged a look, and Dane felt the effects all the way down to his heels.
Ready for what, a date?She’s not invited. Just saying.
Hilary giggled. Took the pen back.
It wouldn’t thrill her to know I’d rather watch a sunrise than have breakfast with her.
Dane hoped Hilary wouldn’t be happy watching any old sunrise. He wanted to think it had something to do with him.
She must have read his mind.
There’s no one I’d rather watch a sunrise with, by the way.She punctuated the end of the sentence with a little heart. It madehisheart beat at a full-on gallop.
The bus pulled out of the gravel driveway, and Lake Superior made its grand reappearance above the trees once they were on the highway. Over the speaker, Sean narrated a history of the lake’s more famous shipwrecks. With each pothole and curve, Hilary pressed against his side even more. Then the bus pulled into the parking lot at The Fresh Fork and Dane cursed the too short ride.
The Fresh Fork was a destination restaurant with a reputation reaching all the way to the Twin Cities, four hours away. The owners, Lee and Kim Flors-Mattingly, had moved from Austin, Texas, five years ago for a change of pace. Lee had worked in the restaurant scene in Dallas, Scottsdale, and San Francisco before they married and was a trained chef. Dane looked forward to this stop all week. If there was one thing he appreciated, it was a good meal made with the freshest ingredients. A glimpse of the couple’s raised beds near the barn was a sign he wouldn’t be disappointed.
“I read an article about this place back at the inn,” whispered Hilary, who’d stuck by his side even after they left the bus. “Their hours are crazy limited. I think I remember it being Thursday through Sunday for dinner only.”
“When you’ve hit a niche market with a unique offering, you can afford to be exclusive. I bet they’re taking reservations for Christmas already. The waiting list has to be a mile long.”
Hilary shielded her eyes from the sun with one hand, looking up at the log cabin-style structure.
“The article said they also have a few rooms for lodgers. I’m sure Jorie will be all over this if she isn’t already.”
Dane looked down at her. “And you’re not?”
Hilary dropped her hand. “Oh, I am. But Jorie is more into the big picture stuff than I am.”
“Just give you a list, right?” Dane joked.
She smiled. “Exactly.”
The restaurant was separated from the main house by an open-air breezeway. Potted boxwoods and forest animal sculptures made from recycled metal were set along the stone path and the wooden ramp leading to the restaurant’s porch. The Fresh Fork sign, hanging above the entrance, was spelled out in wine corks.
Lee led the group around the gardens, ten evenly spaced raised beds that were in constant use from April to October, he said. They used detachable cold frames during the months when weather was iffy. Lee kept a pretty impressive herb garden too, each herb contained within the tidy circle of an old oil drum cut in thirds. Dane sensed Lee and Kim’s reuse-and-recycle philosophy was part of their branding.
