“Let me grab your plans,” he said, pointing to the back door.
When he returned, he unrolled the blueprints and she spent the next few moments detailing what she wanted in the kitchen, and the design she and Brodie had already come up with. Much to her delight, Sam had a few suggestions that would actually improve the work flow and traffic patterns.
“Are you sure you can bring us in with only a month before our projected opening?” she asked.
“It will be a push, I’m not going to lie to you, but my guys are up to the challenge. I wouldn’t have taken the job if I didn’t think we could do it.”
“I admire confidence in a man,” she said. That wasn’t the only thing she was admiring about Sam Delgado, but she ordered herself to settle down. For all she knew, he might indeed have a storage unit full of severed heads.
On the other hand, Brodie trusted him, and that carried a great deal of weight, as far as she was concerned. He wouldn’t have brought Sam in on the project unless he had vetted him fully.
Even if Brodie weren’t giving her this unbelievable chance at her own restaurant, he was also the husband and son of two of her dearest friends.
What was wrong with a little harmless flirtation? In fact, Sam Delgado might just be the cure to the restlessness her mother was talking about. She hadn’t dated anybody in months, not since Oliver, the very funny Swiss ski instructor who had returned to the Alps midseason.
Sam was actually just her type—big, gorgeous and only in town for a few weeks. He would be leaving Hope’s Crossing as soon as he wrapped up work on the restaurant. Why couldn’t she spend some enjoyable leisure time with him while he was here, as long as he still had plenty of time to finish the project?
“Looks clear enough,” Sam said, rolling up the blueprints he had pulled out of his pickup truck. “Since all the appliances and shelving and counters are already here, it’s only a matter of putting everything in place. You should still be able to have your mid-May opening.”
“I’m going to hold you to that, Mr. Delgado,” she said.
“Once my crew comes tomorrow, we can dig in.”
“How many guys will you have?”
“Three others, besides me. We’ve all worked together a long time.”
“Does everybody have a place to stay?”
“Brodie has made reservations at a hotel on the edge of town. Nothing fancy but it will do for now.”
“Good. Good.” She smiled. “Well, let me know if you need anything.”
“I’ll do that.”
It was now or never, she thought, and plunged forward. “So I don’t see a ring. Is there a Mrs. Delgado?”
Plenty of men didn’t care to wear a wedding ring, either out of personal preference or deliberate obfuscation. When she was interested in a man, she was scrupulously careful about double-checking that particular point.
Some hard-earned lessons tended to stick with a woman.
Sam Delgado blinked, obviously a little bemused by the question. If she hadn’t been watching him carefully for some sign of deceit, she might have missed the tangle of emotion in his gaze.
“As a matter of fact, there is. My brother’s wife.”
“But you don’t have one of your own?” she pressed.
“Not currently.”
His guarded reaction didn’t seem particularly encouraging. He could be engaged—another hot button of hers because of family history—but she hadn’t missed that sadness in his eyes and sensed he was telling the truth.
“Do you anticipate that changing anytime in the near future?”
“Not that I’m aware of, no. Why are you so curious?”
She shrugged. “Personal rule. I don’t date men who are married, engaged or otherwise involved in a long-term relationship.”
A corner of his mouth danced up. “I didn’t realize we were planning on dating.”
“Planning on it? No. But if the opportunity arose, I like to be certain ahead of time that both parties are...unentangled. Poachers bug the hell out of me. And men who allow themselves to be poached are even worse.”
He gazed at her for a long moment as if he wasn’t quite sure how to answer. “You don’t have any problem speaking your mind, Ms. McKnight, do you?”
“Please. Call me Alex. Especially considering we might be planning on dating at some point in the foreseeable future.”
He laughed as he shook his head. “Here’s something you should know about me then. Call me old-fashioned, but I like to be in the driver’s seat in these sorts of things.”