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SAM OPENED THE FRONT door just as Mr. Atkinson lifted his hand to the knocker. The boy grinned at him and then at Lindy, who stood beside her neighbor with a wicker basket.
“Hi!” Sam greeted them, caught up in holiday excitement. “Happy Thanksgiving!”
“Same to you, young man,” Mr. Atkinson replied.
“See what I made?” Sam pointed to the black paper hat on his head complete with a gold paper buckle. “Auntie Bert and I made them for everyone to wear at dinner. And different ones for the ladies. Auntie Bert calls them bonnets.”
“Very clever,” Lindy praised. She nodded at the basket in her hand. “Can you help me bring these things to the kitchen?”
As everyone moved into the foyer, Jo swept down the staircase in a flattering purple wool dress. She wished them a happy Thanksgiving, her twinkling eyes fastened solely upon Mr. Atkinson.
Lindy gave Sam a gentle nudge towards the kitchen, granting the lovebirds some privacy.
She and Sam entered the large, sunny room to find Bert sitting at the table peeling potatoes. Devin stood at the stove, oven mitts on his hands. His smile was warm and relaxed as he glanced up at their arrival.
“Is it time to paste the turkey, Dad?” Sam asked, darting forward.
Devin laughed with gentle humor. “Baste, Sam. Baste. Stand back while I get the bird out of the oven, then you can help me.”
“Hello, Lindy,” Bert said, sounding a little fretful. “I forgot about the mashed potatoes. Can you help me? My sister’s been fluttering around all day with her head in the clouds. I don’t understand what’s wrong with her. And that Janelle is no help.” She glowered at her nephew’s back and lowered her voice to a mumble. “She’s sitting in the drawing room sipping at our best sherry like she’s the queen bee.”
Lindy set down her basket. “Yes, I’ll help. Let me put the salad fixings in the fridge. And the bean casserole needs to go in the oven to keep warm.”
“I have a tray of roasted yams in the lower oven,” Devin said over his shoulder. “I’ll put the casserole on the bottom rack.”
It amazed Lindy how relaxed she felt. Mr. Atkinson’s pep talk had helped. He was right. She needed to be straightforward and ask Devin about his relationship with Janelle. And, if he wondered why she wanted to know, she’d tell him what Sam had shared with her, that Sam didn’t like the woman, and it wasn’t fair to keep the boy in limbo. She’d never need to mention it wasn’t fair to her, either.
She set the pies and the casserole on the center island and found room in the refrigerator for the salad items. Then she sat down at the table across from Bert and reached for the other vegetable peeler and a potato. Her eyes darted towards Devin and Sam, who were occupied at the stove. She smiled tenderly. They looked cute in their black jeans and matching sweaters in dove grey, though Sam’s sweater was cotton and Devin’s was cashmere. Sam had on a pair of white sneakers. Devin wore casual dress shoes in black leather. He also wore a ruffled floral-patterned apron tied in a bow around his waist.
Lindy muffled a laugh. “Did you do all the cooking, Devin?”
“I started the turkey yesterday,” Bert said importantly. “I brined it overnight. It was my nephew’s idea.”
Devin returned the turkey to the oven and closed the door. He swiveled towards them as he removed the oven mitts. “It makes the meat extra tender and juicy.” He winked at Lindy. “Luscious is an excellent word too.” Grey eyes glinted as they alighted fleetingly on her mouth.
Her heart did a somersault. “Oh, um, I’ve heard of that preparation method. Can’t wait to taste it.”
“I did all the table decorations,” Sam volunteered. “Want to go see them, Lindy?”
“I’m helping your aunt, Sam.” She smiled at the boy, seeing he was getting restless. “Besides, I want to be surprised when we sit down for dinner. Come here. I’ll show you how to dig the eyes out of the potatoes.”
While she instructed the boy how to hold the peeler correctly without hurting himself, she became aware of Devin watching her. She peeked up to see him looking as though he’d made some amazing discovery. When he caught her eyes on him, he glanced away, whatever he’d been thinking masked behind a bland expression.
“I’d better go check on our other guests,” he said, untying the apron and tossing it on the counter.
One of those guests chose that moment to stroll into the kitchen, wineglass in hand.
Lindy managed not to gape. Janelle Paxton wore a tight, low-cut, cranberry-red satin wrap dress that fell several inches above the knee. Her legs went on forever in silver stilettos. Silver and gold jewelry adorned her neck, ears and hands. She made Lindy, in her knee-length jeans skirt, lightweight sea-blue turtleneck, black tights and calf-length black suede boots, feel almost dowdy in comparison. Hadn’t Jo insisted the dinner was informal?
“Here you are,” Janelle said to Devin, looking displeased. “I’ve been sitting alone for almost an hour.” She glanced at Lindy. “Oh, hello. Mindy, right?”
“Lindy,” Devin and Lindy spoke at once.
“Oh, right. I’m not very good with names.” She evinced a smile that was more of a sneer. “Not spending the holiday with your own family...Lindy?”
Lindy gave the blonde a steady stare. “My mother lives in Santa Fe. My brother is spending the weekend with friends in San Jose. How about you?” she asked, turning the tables on Janelle. “Where’s your family?”
Janelle waved a careless hand. “Oh, they’re here and there. I’ll see them at Christmas. Besides,” she added coyly as she crossed the room to stand next to Devin, tucking her free arm in his. “I’ve got my family here too.” She looked up at him, eyelashes fluttering.
Sam made a none-too-subtle gagging sound Lindy tried to cover by coughing. She exchanged a speaking glance with the boy. He rolled his eyes at her.
“Here, Janelle,” said Bert, beckoning toward the woman. “If you’re eager to be part of this family, come take my place with the potatoes.”
“Oh, gosh. I wish I could, Ms. Wakefield.” The woman giggled helplessly. “But I don’t want to damage my nails.” She flitted her hand, the one that held the glass of sherry, ignoring the drops spilling onto the white and black tiled floor. “I’m going to a gala event in San Francisco tomorrow night. Very posh. One of those charity events.” She pouted up at Devin, who was wearing a placid smile, though his eyes looked cool. “Too bad you can’t go, Dev. But there’s time to change your mind.”
He didn’t respond to her pleading tone. “I haven’t said hello to Hank Atkinson,” he said in a clipped tone, retrieving his arm from Janelle’s clutching fingers. “Let’s return to the drawing room.” He patted Bert’s shoulder as he passed by. “I’ll be back in about twenty minutes to do the final basting.”
The older woman muttered under her breath as the couple left the kitchen. “Who does she think she is? Putting on airs.”
“I don’t like her,” Sam said, gouging a potato with extra vigor.
“Is she staying all weekend?” Lindy couldn’t help but ask.
“No way,” the boy said. “Me and my Dad are working at the store tomorrow. Boy, was she mad about that.” He laughed gleefully.
“She told me some colleague of hers is picking her up tomorrow,” Bert said. “Boasted about his fancy car. One of those expensive ones you plug in.”
“A Tesla?” Lindy wondered.
Bert aimed her peeler at Lindy. “That’s it. She says he’s loaded with money.”
“She loves money,” Sam said. “Maybe she’ll marry him,” he added hopefully.
“I think we have enough potatoes,” Lindy said, deciding it was time to change the subject. “I’ll cut them, Bert.”
“Is it time to bake the crescent rolls?” Sam asked, hopping up from the table.
His aunt said yes and instructed him to get the tray. The boy was more interested in popping open the cardboard canisters of dough than anything else. While he occupied himself, Lindy cut up the potatoes and scooped them into a large pot. She filled it with water and set it on the stove to boil. Then she retrieved the salad fixings from the fridge.
Devin returned a few minutes later. From that point, everyone kept busy putting together dinner items that needed to wait until the last minute. Bert made the gravy while the peas were cooking, Sam monitored the crescent rolls in the lower oven, Devin set the finished turkey on a platter and scooped the turkey stuffing into a porcelain bowl, and Lindy mixed the salad dressing. Then, one by one, Devin and Sam carried everything into the dining room.
“It’s time,” Bert said, when they were all gathered in the messy kitchen once more. She beamed at all of them, especially Lindy. “Thank you for helping, Lindy. You are just so kind and giving, isn’t she, Devin?”
“That she is,” he agreed affably. And then he placed one arm around his aunt’s shoulders, the other around Lindy’s, and nodded at Sam. “Lead the way to the drawing room, young man. Let’s go tell everyone it’s time to eat.”
Lindy savored his scent as he tucked her close to his side: spice and cedar and clean, male skin. He was so solid and warm. She kept silent as they strolled down the hall to the drawing room. He still had his arm around her as he paused in the arched doorway.
Mr. Atkinson and Jo were sitting cozily together on the sofa in front of the fire. Janelle lounged on a leather recliner in the corner, leafing through a magazine and looking bored.
“Everyone come to the table,” Devin said. “The turkey’s waiting.”
“Just in time,” Mr. Atkinson said. He rose from the sofa and held his hand out to Jo. “I could eat a horse.”
Jo tittered.
“I’m not that hungry,” Janelle informed everyone in a dulcet tone. “I shouldn’t eat too much, or I won’t fit into the dress I’m wearing to the gala tomorrow night.”
Everyone ignored her.
Devin released Lindy and Bert as they came to the narrower hallway leading to the dining room. Mr. Atkinson caught Lindy by the elbow, holding her back. “Have you asked him?” he wondered in a cagey whisper while the others walked ahead.
“Not yet. There hasn’t been a chance.”
“We need to get you two alone after dinner.” He wiggled his bushy eyebrows at her.
Her eyes gently scolded him. “Don’t make it too obvious.”
He chortled. “Don’t worry about that. I’ve got a splendid notion he’s looking for the chance to be alone with you...”
“Shh, he might hear you... Oh, look at this. How lovely.”
Lindy paused at the dining room entrance to admire the scene before her. The room was beautiful on its own, with burgundy velvet curtains framing the floor-to-ceiling windows, and a gorgeous crystal chandelier above the wide mahogany table, its lights dimmed. Seven high-backed brocade-cushioned chairs surrounded the table, which was dressed with a beautiful tasseled table runner in fall colors. Sam had spread fall leaves across the runner. Several small pumpkins and low centerpieces of red, orange, yellow and purple mums enhanced the décor. Scented harvest candles stood at each end of the table. A pilgrim hat sat waiting at each place setting.
“Sam, this is amazing!” Lindy said, catching the boy’s earnest gaze.
Sam gave her a bashful smile.
“He’s been working on it all week,” Jo said. “He wouldn’t let us take a peek.”
Devin squeezed Sam’s shoulder. “Great job, Sam.”
“Where do you want us to sit?” Bert asked the boy.
Sam’s face took on an endearingly bossy expression. “My dad at the end of the table,” he said, pointing to the head of the table. “And Mr. Atkinson here.” He pointed to the other end. “Auntie Jo, you sit here.” He touched the chair to the right of Mr. Atkinson’s. “Janelle, you’re over there.” He waved to the seat directly across from Jo’s. “I’ll sit next to you,” he told that woman. “And Auntie Bert will sit on my other side.” He pointed to the chair to Devin’s left. “And Lindy, you get to sit there.”
Everyone headed for their seats except for Janelle. “I should sit next to Devin,” she said in a haughty voice. “It’s only right.”
“But you know him,” Sam pointed out, a hint of triumph in his blue eyes. “You need to sit next to someone you don’t know that well. I looked it up.”
“That’s right,” Mr. Atkinson agreed jovially. He pulled out Janelle’s chair. “You sit right here, young lady. I want to hear all about what it’s like living in Florida. Is that a real tan?”
Janelle sniffed. “Yes, it is.”
“It’s so striking,” the man said, laying on the flattery. Janelle brightened visibly. She sat down, basking in the praise Mr. Atkinson continued to heap upon her, even while he assisted Jo into her chair and patted Jo’s shoulder.
Devin pulled Lindy’s chair away from the table as she approached. His eyes glinted with amusement. “That man’s a character,” he said in a muted voice as he pushed her chair to the table.
She grinned at him as he sat down. “He’s a dear. I love him.”
“I can see he loves you. And so do my aunts. And so does Sam.” His eyelids drooped over a sudden, burning expression. “You’re an easy girl to love, Lindy Jane.”
Her heart pounded, as a blush rushed up to her cheeks.
“Put on your hats!” Sam said in a commanding voice.
“I’m not wearing a hat,” Janelle protested as, with a good deal of laughter, everyone donned their hats.
Mr. Atkinson smiled at the woman engagingly. “I think you’ll look adorable in a white bonnet perched on all that pretty hair.”
“Oh, all right,” Janelle said, tossing him a playful pout.
“Let’s say grace and get started before the food gets cold,” Bert said.
Devin looked toward the opposite end of the table. “Hank? Will you lead us in grace?”
The words of praise and thanksgiving barely registered in Lindy’s mind. Her thoughts lingered on Devin’s words. That she was an easy girl to love. What did he mean? Was he talking about himself? Lost in her dreams, she didn’t hear him speak at first.
“White meat, Lindy? Or dark?”
She looked up at him. He held a carving knife poised above the glistening, golden turkey set on the table in front of him. “Oh, um, white, please.”
He carved a portion of the succulent meat for her, holding her mesmerized by his strong, masculine hands, the steady way his fingers held the knife, the deft, confident motions.
“Just a small sliver for me, Dev,” Janelle said from the other end of the table. “No thanks,” she said to Mr. Atkinson, who was passing her the stuffing. “I’m off carbs. It’s hard work for a girl to stay slim and attractive.” She shot an icy glance at Lindy. “Some girls just give up. Not me.”
Mr. Atkinson made a commiserating sound while winking at Lindy at the same time. She winked back. Janelle would not spoil her dinner.
Devin moved the turkey platter to the buffet after he had served everyone. He sat down with a satisfied air. “This looks delicious.” After tasting a bite of turkey, he gave Bert a smile. “Excellent job with the brining, Aunt Bert. This is perfect.”
Aunt Bert glowed.
Aside from the occasional complaint about carbs from Janelle, the conversation was light. As the dishes passed around the table for second helpings, Mr. Atkinson aimed an inquiring glance at Devin. “Will the hardware store be open tomorrow?”
Devin nodded. “We open at seven a.m. We don’t get the crowds like the box stores, but I’m told it’s always very busy on Black Friday.”
“I’m helping,” Sam piped in.
“Who on earth goes to a hardware store on Black Friday?” Janelle asked, her tone huffy.
“Men,” Jo said.
“And women,” Bert added. “It’s not just tools and nuts and bolts, Janelle. Half the store is housewares.”
“Lots of kitchen items and giftware, unusual things you can’t find at those box stores,” Jo said.
“That was Moira’s idea,” Bert said. “She’s the one who convinced our brother to do that when the big chains moved into the area.”
“That’s right,” her sister confirmed. “If it wasn’t for her, the store would have gone out of business years ago.”
“Derek doted on her,” Bert said, her eyes far away. “From the moment she set foot in the store.”
“She worked there?” Lindy asked, curious to learn as much as possible about Devin’s mother.
“Yes. She responded to an ad for a store clerk. Derek hired her on the spot.”
“Who’s Moira?” Sam wanted to know.
“Why, she was Devin’s mother, dear,” Bert said. “You can think of her as your grandmother. I’ll show you pictures after dinner.”
Lindy looked at Devin. His face was calm. He didn’t seem bothered about the direction the conversation had taken. He startled her further when he remarked, “I didn’t realize it was my mother’s idea to convert half the store to housewares. No one told me.”
“Well, you never seemed interested in the store, Devin,” Jo replied lightly, not a hint of reproof in her voice.
“Naturally, he wasn’t,” Bert said, glancing at her sister. “He was only a child when Derek came out of his mourning and started taking an interest in the store and his other businesses again.” She cast Devin a consoling look. “It was too late by then.”
Devin frowned. “Mourning?”
“He didn’t set foot in that store for almost three years,” Jo said. “Spent most of his days locked up in the bedroom he shared with Moira. We were awfully worried about him.”
“He’d always been so strong,” Bert said. “It was difficult for him when our father passed away so unexpectedly. He hadn’t yet turned twenty-one when he had to take over the business. And he took care of us too,” she added, nodding toward her sister. “Our mother spent most of her time traveling. We never really knew her that well.”
“I wasn’t aware of this,” Devin said.
“You couldn’t have understood back then,” Jo said. “Besides, you were a stubborn little boy, and, by the time your father came out of his doldrums to treat you like a proper father should, it was too late.”
“You resisted him at every turn,” Bert said. She looked at Lindy. “You should have seen him when he was a boy. He was a holy terror.”
“What’s a holy terror?” Sam asked.
“A brat,” Devin said. “I was a brat.”
Mr. Atkinson chuckled. “I remember seeing you racing your bike around the neighborhood, yelling your head off and making a nuisance of yourself.”
Devin laughed lightly. “I think I was letting off steam.” He aimed a teasing smile at Jo. “You and Aunt Bert didn’t allow me to run around or yell my head off in this house. Had to do it somewhere.”
Jo looked abashed. “We’d never spent much time around children until you came along, Devin, dear. We didn’t know any better.”
He shrugged. “It’s okay. I found my outlets.”
“Is it true you were a troublemaker in school?” Lindy wondered, sensing the atmosphere relaxed enough to ask.
He slanted a wry grin at her. “Yep.”
Sam stared at him with wide, curious eyes, mouth gaping. “What did you do?”
“Things you will never do, Sam,” Devin said in a stern voice, though his mouth twitched.
“Like what?” Sam persisted.
Bert stepped in. “Nothing too awful,” she told Sam. “Just talking back to his teachers a lot. Devin rarely tolerated anyone telling him what to do.”
And still doesn’t, Lindy reflected, recalling his resistance to coming back to King’s Valley. She wondered what he would have been like if his mother hadn’t died. Perhaps he might have stayed and accepted responsibility for the family business without misgivings. Lindy might have visited the hardware store one day, and he would have gazed at her from across the room, and it would have been love at first sight...
When she forced her thoughts from fantasy to reality, the conversation had changed direction again.
“That was the best turkey I’ve ever eaten,” Devin said, relaxing in his seat.
“That’s the way we will do it from now on,” Bert said.
Sam let out an appreciative belch. Devin shot the boy a severe stare that belied the smile lurking at the corners of his mouth.
Mr. Atkinson rubbed a hand over his belly. “I think I have just enough room left for a slice of Lindy’s pecan pie.”
Jo rested her hand on his arm. “Hank? Should we tell them now?”
Lindy was aware of the sudden alertness in Devin’s demeanor as he shot a sharp glance at the older couple at the opposite end of the table.
Mr. Atkinson stood up from the table, one hand resting on Jo’s shoulder as he smiled down at her. His wrinkled face glowed with love and pride. “I fell in love with this woman almost sixty years ago. Then...life happened. But, now, I can finally say she will be my wife.”
There was a breathless moment of silence. Even Janelle looked at the couple with a shocked expression. Then Bert let out a squeal of delight, jumped out of her chair and scurried around the table to hug her sister. “I knew something was up,” she said amidst laughter and tears. “You’ve been acting more twitter-brained than me lately!”
Lindy peered at Devin’s somber profile. He caught her eye and shook his head. “Aunt Jo? Getting married? She’s seventy-two. He’s eighty.”
“Who cares?” Lindy said in swift retort. “They love each other. That’s all that matters.”
She rose from the table and walked over to congratulate the happy couple. She hugged Jo and planted a kiss on her neighbor’s papery cheek. When she stepped back, Devin took her place, first kissing his aunt, then shaking Mr. Atkinson’s hand.
“Congratulations,” he said, sounding like he meant it.
Mr. Atkinson looked him straight in the eye. “Thank you, young man. Maybe ours won’t be the only family wedding in the near future?”
Bert grabbed Lindy’s arm and tugged her aside. “This calls for champagne,” she whispered. “Come and help me in the kitchen.” Then she said loudly, “Everyone go into the drawing room. Lindy and I will be right there.”
Lindy could’ve kissed the woman. Shame on Mr. Atkinson for making such a blatant pronouncement. Sure, he could’ve been referring to Janelle, but his eyes had twinkled in Lindy’s direction. Her cheeks burned. As soon as they got to the kitchen, she hurried to the sink and gulped down a glass of cold water.
“Now, where’s that silver tray?” Bert was muttering to herself.
“On top of the fridge,” Lindy said. “I’ll get it.”
Bert directed Lindy to the pantry to fetch a bottle of the champagne the ladies reserved for Christmas and New Year’s. Then Bert tasked her with filling a bucket of ice. Once everything was in place, Lindy carried the tray while Bert followed with the bottle.
For the next half hour, sounds of merriment filled the drawing room. Even Janelle, after guzzling down a glass of champagne in one swallow, appeared to be in a festive mood.
“We haven’t had so much happiness in this house in ages,” Bert said.
“We enjoyed many wonderful parties here back in the day,” her sister said. “We’d roll back the carpets and dance all night it seemed.”
“Remember the parties when we were in elementary school?” Bert laughed. “All the boys and girls loved coming to our house. All the rooms made wonderful places to hide.”
Sam’s ears perked up. “You played hide-and-seek, Auntie Bert?” He sounded astonished at the idea.
“Oh, yes,” his aunt said. “It was such fun. I still know all the best places to hide. No one could ever find me.”
Jo laughed. “You fell asleep in one of those places once. I remember Derek searching the house for hours.”
“I want to play hide-and-seek,” Sam said loudly, his face shining with excitement. “Can we play right now?”
Mr. Atkinson chortled. “That was my favorite game when I was a boy.” He quirked an eyebrow at his fiancée. “It was also a splendid opportunity to kiss a pretty girl.”
Janelle plonked down in an armchair. “Hide-and-seek is for children. Count me out.”
“I’m game,” Devin said, much to Sam’s delight. He gave the boy a serious look. “But, first, let’s set some ground rules. Whoever’s ‘it’ has to count to one hundred. Slowly. Some of us walk slower than others. We’ll need more time to hide. And,” he added in a stern tone. “There’ll be no running up and down the stairs. That goes for everybody.”
“Why, Devin,” Jo said with delight. “You look and sound just like your father.”
Lindy stood off to one side, still feeling awkward after her neighbor’s earlier remark. Devin threw her a questioning glance. “Are you in?”
She looked from him to Sam’s imploring face. “Sure,” she said in a light-hearted tone. “This should be fun.”
Sam decided they’d draw straws to see who the first seeker would be. Bert said they didn’t have any straws, so they settled on toothpicks, which Devin held in his fist. He ended up with the shortest one.
“Looks like I’m first.” He looked over at Janelle. “You sure you don’t want to play? No?” Then he grinned at the huddled faces surrounding him. “Okay. I will close my eyes and start counting to one hundred. You all better get moving.”
Which they did, some moving faster than others. Lindy headed for the stairs, Sam right behind her. She spied Mr. Atkinson and Jo aiming for a hiding place downstairs. When Lindy reached the top of the stairs, she turned to see Bert still standing in the foyer, waffling between left and right. “Bert!” she hissed. “Get a move on.”
Sam had disappeared. Lindy raced into the first guest room and scooted under the bed.
“Ready or not!” Devin bellowed. “Here I come.”
She experienced the same racing, panicky emotions she’d felt when she’d played this game as a kid. Would he be able to see her from the doorway? She inched farther into the shadows. But it didn’t matter, because within a few minutes she heard Mr. Atkinson holler and Devin laugh. “Hank is it,” he shouted, his voice carrying upstairs. “Everyone back to the drawing room.”
In the second round, Lindy raced up the stairs behind Sam. This time, she sensed Devin close behind. At the top of the stairs, Sam turned left. Lindy hurried straight ahead to the end of the hall. An empty armoire stood in the guestroom there. She knew this because she’d helped the sisters empty it out a few months ago when they were pulling together items to donate to the thrift shop.
She flung open the doors and stepped inside. The armoire was almost three feet deep. There’d be plenty of room. As she turned to tug the doors shut, Devin walked into view.
“Perfect,” he said approvingly. “We can pull on the doors from the inside in case Hank tries to open them.”
“What are you doing?” she asked, keeping her voice down. “This is my hiding spot.”
“There’s room enough for two,” he said, poking his head inside and inspecting the dim interior.
She gave his chest an ineffectual poke. He was like an immovable rock. “Go away!”
“Shh. He’s done counting. Move to the back.”
He pushed her farther into the armoire, stepped inside and shut the doors. Instantly, the interior became almost pitch black, save for a thin line of light between the doors. For a few seconds, the only sound in the musty space was their breathing, hers sounding more accelerated than his.
“This is cozy,” he said in a casual tone. “Too bad it’s not lined with cedar. But it still smells nice in here. Mm. Lavender. And lemon? Is that your shampoo?”
“It will take Mr. Atkinson a while to get up the stairs,” she said, her voice a breathless whisper. “You have time to find another hiding place.”
“But I don’t want to hide anyplace else. I want to hide right here.”
“Why?” She inched away from him until she hit the back wall.
He moved closer. His voice lowered to a whisper. “Why? Weren’t you listening to what your neighbor said earlier? Hide-and-seek is the perfect opportunity to kiss a pretty girl.”
Her heart pounded so hard she thought her ribs might crack. “Kiss Janelle then,” she said in a wobbly voice.
“Janelle? Why would I want to kiss her?”
“She’s your girlfriend.”
“She is?”
“You said—”
“I said nothing, Lindy. Yes, we were in a relationship. But we agreed to end it before I moved here.” He made an impatient sound. “I’ve allowed her to stay as a guest at my place a few times when she travels out here to meet with her west coast team. She runs a beauty consulting company.”
Lindy didn’t care about that. “She told me she was your fiancée.”
His surprise sounded genuine. “She did? When?”
“When I first met her. At church that Sunday.”
“I didn’t hear her say that. I think the charming blue dress you wore that day distracted me.”
He remembered what she’d been wearing that day? Delight and confusion assailed her in a heady mix. “But... I think you knew I thought she was your girlfriend. Why would you let me think that?”
“I had my reasons.”
“What reasons?”
“Someday soon I’ll tell you.” His voice held a mixture of amusement and something else she couldn’t decipher. Relief? Exultation? “Anyway, she’s leaving tomorrow. I made it clear to her this afternoon this would be her last visit, and I don’t want to see her again.”
Lindy leaned against the wall for support. She felt like her knees would buckle at any second. On a shaky breath, she said, “Oh. That’s good. That will relieve Sam. She told him she was going to marry you. He’s been so worried.”
His sigh carried a trace of frustration. “Always Sam. What about you, Lindy Jane? Are you relieved that I’m not marrying Janelle?”
Her voice abandoned her.
He moved closer until his body brushed against hers. Hands, cool and firm, settled on her shoulders and smoothly tugged her forward.
She collapsed against him, unresisting, planting her palms on his chest for support. She was very aware he was breathing harder now, his chest rising and falling under her hands.
“Well?” he asked in a tender whisper, his mouth close to her ear. “Are you?”
She nodded.
“Did you just nod?”
She nodded again.
He laughed faintly, sliding his hands down her arms and then suddenly enfolding her in his firm embrace. “I think you nodded. But we don’t need to see each other to do this.”
And he kissed her.
He kissed her slowly and thoroughly and with obvious enjoyment, and she kissed him back. After a while, he whispered against her mouth, “Your neighbor was right about opportunities. And I won’t squander this one.”
He kissed her again.
It was when Lindy heard a loud “Ahem” that she finally returned to her surroundings. Someone was standing directly outside the armoire, blocking the strip of light.
“Are they in there?” Jo asked from the hallway.
“Nope,” Mr. Atkinson said loudly to the armoire. “Not here. Let’s check the downstairs again.”
“You hide in that armoire on the next round,” Jo said cajolingly, her voice sounding farther away. “I’ll come and find you.”
Mr. Atkinson chuckled with delight. “Hussy. Just what kind of woman am I marrying?”
Lindy shoved Devin’s chest. “We need to go back downstairs.”
His arms tightened. “Not yet.”
“Yes, yet. Do you want Sam walking in here next?”
He heaved a great sigh. “All right, all right,” he said with exaggerated disappointment, releasing her.
He opened the doors, stepped out and offered his hand to her. His glistening eyes touched on her flushed cheeks, swollen lips and tousled hair. “You might want to take a glance in the mirror before you come downstairs.”
Her cheeks burned even hotter.
Devin reached out and touched the tip of her nose. “There’s something I need to tell you. But it’ll have to wait.”
Sam’s voice, shouting for them from the top of the stairs, interrupted anything she might have said to that astonishing remark.