from the weight of her expectations had been freeing.
He couldn’t imagine ever feeling that way about Grace . . .
He watched her stare at the flickering fire. Grace was honest and forthright. There was no manipulative undercurrent to their conversations. No guessing about what she was really trying to say. She was witty and real and beautiful in a way that didn’t require three styling tools and a dozen different beauty products.
She was deserving of someone a whole lot less complicated.
He looked away. Why did he have to keep reminding himself of these things? And did he have the willpower to keep doing it?
He was sorry he’d opened this line of questioning, but he’d been curious about Grace’s love life. Curious if she currently had a man in her life. If she was as inexperienced as he thought. He hadn’t expected the burn of jealousy when she’d come so readily to Nick’s defense.
These quiet conversations on their adventure had done nothing to quell his interest. The more he knew about Grace, the more he wanted to know. He wasn’t usually so reckless, but she made him forget reason.
“Wyatt? It’s your turn.”
He’d zoned out there for a minute. He could think of at least a dozen things he wanted to know about her. “What do you want out of life?”
She blinked at him. “That’s a weighty question.”
“Take your best shot.”
“All right.” She crossed one foot over the other. “I want to make a success of my company and establish myself as a businessperson in this community. I want to be taken seriously. Someday I’d like a man in the picture. Someone who loves this town as much as I do. Someone who shares my faith, who has his own goals, and we can support each other, cheer each other on. I want to live in a small house, preferably on the lake, and I’d like kids someday too, a boy and a girl.” She ducked her head. “That sounds really corny.”
“Not at all. Continue.”
“All right. Let’s see . . . I want to go camping as a family every summer and go for walks around the lake and have date nights with my husband on Saturday nights. Oh, and a dog. I definitely want a big dog that can jump in the water and fetch sticks.”
He’d intended to direct the question away from himself. Make her think about her goals so she could see how irrelevant he was—make them both think about how poorly he’d fit into her future. Because, yes, he knew she was drawn to him. As drawn to him as he was to her, and he needed to discourage that.
But instead she’d painted a picture that stirred up something in him. Something that made him remember his early years in Bluebell with his parents. Something that made him long for that quiet, simple, peaceful life where faith and family were everything. Someplace he could find rest and not be on constant guard. Vigilance was such a part of him he hardly knew how to relax anymore.
Still he could all too easily see himself in that picture she was painting, packing the trunk for a camping trip, pitching a stick to their dog, holding her hand on that long evening walk.
He shook the thought away. It wasn’t like him to indulge in fantasy.
But he was impressed with Grace. She knew exactly what she wanted out of life. She’d thought it through.
She shifted. “That probably sounds really stupid to you, world traveler that you are. But I guess I just want what my parents had. And I want to feel worthy of all that.”
He tucked the worthy comment away for later. “You make it sound really nice.”
“My turn.”
“Last question. Make it good.” She’d probably turn the same question back on him. He was already formulating his answer, and it sounded pretty lonely after hers.
“What are you doing here?” She waited a beat. Waited for him to look at her. When he did, she said, “Why is finding this spot so important to you?”
His gut clenched. The question definitely didn’t pass the aunt test, and he could see she was uneasy about asking it. He had his pass left and thought about using it.
But he wanted her to know this little piece of him. Maybe not everything, but she’d brought him up here, was giving it her best shot. And despite all the difficulties they’d faced—the rain, the extra night, the lack of food—she hadn’t complained even once.