Currant Creek Valley - By RaeAnne Thayne Page 0,60
letting me know where you’re going so we have a starting point for a search if you don’t come back.”
With all the stress in her life, this was one more thing she didn’t want to worry about right now so she quickly changed the subject. “I like your swing.”
He gave her a long look, obviously aware of her transparent conversational ploy. Apparently, he decided to let it stand.
“I’ve always wanted one,” he answered. “A porch swing just seems to represent home to me. Somehow in base housing the opportunity never arose to put one in, and then we moved into a condo near the hospital for Kelli’s treatments and didn’t have a good spot. This is the first time I’ve ever had a front porch. I saw this swing while I was shopping for new bathroom light fixtures today and I couldn’t resist.”
She knew she shouldn’t find that so blasted endearing but she couldn’t seem to help it. The man continually surprised her. She was also more than a little touched, given their history, that he would open up and share something so personal with her.
“Want to give it a trial run with me?” he asked.
“Now, that sounds like a line.”
His low laugh sizzled down her spine. “No. This is a line. I’ve always dreamed of sitting on a porch swing on a lovely May evening with an even lovelier woman.”
“Nice. A little cheesy, but surprisingly effective.”
She saw the gleam of his teeth in the night as he smiled. “Is it?”
Her dog flopped onto the top step of the porch. Again, that warning voice told her to just say good-night and go home, where she was safe.
This didn’t seem a night for making wise choices. Before she could talk herself out of it, she took the final steps to the swing and sat down.
The chains rattled softly as he set the swing in motion and they moved gently there in the darkness, Leo’s panting and the night creatures peeping and humming and the rustling of the leaves against the porch for company.
“In case you’re wondering,” he said after a moment, “I’m not going to ask the obvious. If you’re nervous about tomorrow night, I mean.”
She made a face, though she knew he couldn’t see it. “Thank you. I appreciate your forbearance.”
He laughed softly and the swing moved forward, backward, forward. He was right; this was the perfect spot for a swing, looking out at the mountains.
“In answer to your unasked question, yes. I believe I’ve moved past nervous to scared as hell, venturing into what-was-I-thinking territory. In fact, at this point I’m beginning to think jumping into Currant Creek teeming with bears—and me with no bear spray—would be less intimidating.”
“You’ll be great,” he answered. “I’ve tasted your food, remember. You’ve got the stuff, Alexandra.”
Warmth burst through like a bright sunbeam. “I appreciate the vote of confidence. It helps take me just south of panic.”
“I’m still planning to be there at the opening. I’m looking forward to it.”
“No Ethan tomorrow?”
“No. Nick and Cheri are bringing him up Saturday morning and I’ll drive him back Sunday night. Only two more weeks of school and then he can come permanently.”
“He seems to be excited for the move.”
“He complains about the separations during the week but I think he’s going to miss his cousins when Nicky and his family move to Europe.”
“What about you? Are you going to miss your brother and his family?”
“They’ve been incredibly supportive since Kelli died. I don’t know what I would have done without them these last few years. So, yeah. I’ll miss them but I guess it was time for all of us to make a change.”
“Why Hope’s Crossing? I’m not sure you’ve ever given me a straight answer on that. Colorado is a big state. A guy with your particular skill set probably could have landed anywhere.”
He was silent. “You’re going to think this sounds ridiculous.”
“Try me.”
“When Brodie first talked to me about taking over and finishing the work at Brazen, Ethan and I came out from Denver to see what needed to be done on the site. I remember, it was a Saturday afternoon in March, sunny and cool. After walking through the restaurant, we stopped for lunch at the pizza place in town.”
“They make a good pie. Certainly not worth uprooting your whole life for, though.”
“The food was good, yeah. But while we were eating, at least three different people stopped to say hello and ask if I needed directions anywhere.”