One Snowy Night (Sweet Home, Alaska #1) - Patience Griffin Page 0,18

him as if he were a bonehead. “I’m delivering the groceries you ordered.”

“I didn’t—” He stopped himself.

They stared at each other for a long minute, frowning.

“Piney,” they said together, disgusted.

“What in the world was Piney thinking?” he said out loud, but mostly to himself.

Hope looked decidedly unhappy. “Half the time, I don’t believe she thinks at all. She calls it instinct.”

This wasn’t the old Hope he knew. Old Hope would’ve smiled, especially where it concerned him.

For a second, he wished for the old Hope back.

But in the next second, he didn’t. He was happy with his life . . . without her.

Boomer wandered over to Hope. She picked him up and held him close, like a security blanket.

Ludicrously, Donovan had a tinge of envy, wanting to be the dog.

Rick stood there with a goofy grin on his face, until Donovan gave him the look—like he better stop enjoying himself.

Rick took the hint. “I’ll put the groceries away.” He might as well have said, I’ll leave you two alone.

Donovan scanned Hope, comparing his memory of young Hope to current Hope. Current Hope needed to eat more, smile more, and get more rest, if the dark circles under her eyes were any indication. What happened to her after he left? “So you’re still in Sweet Home?” It was a leading question, but he wanted answers . . . whether she wanted to give them or not.

Her lips turned into a stubborn straight line, letting him know she wasn’t going to respond. She pointed to the other room. “How does Rick know who I am?”

“Intuition,” Donovan deadpanned.

“I don’t think so,” Hope said.

She was all attitude, no longer the sweet go-along-with-anything-he-said girl. And the weird thing was, he kind of liked her this way.

Hope straightened her shoulders and stared him down. “Where’s your wife?”

Once again, she’d caught him off guard.

“I left her at home,” Donovan lied, trying to be as brazen as Hope.

Rick hollered from the kitchen, “Don’t let him fool you, Hope. He’s not married.” He stuck his head around the corner. “Never found the right woman.”

Donovan raised an eyebrow at Rick. “I think you should go outside and check for bears. Take some food with you. They like that.” Which reminded Donovan that he should pick up bear repellent if they were going to be here for a few days. Maybe a rifle, too. And Grandpa used to keep a soup can filled with marbles on the porch to scare them away.

“I’ll pass,” Rick said. “The kitchen is calling me.”

“What’s your dog’s name?” Hope nuzzled the dog, not meeting Donovan’s eye.

He frowned at his charge. “He’s not necessarily my dog.”

“Yes, he is,” came from the kitchen. “And the dog’s name is Boomer.”

Hope smiled and pointed to the other room. “I like your business manager.” Her face was contorted, as if she couldn’t comprehend why anyone would need a business manager.

“He’s worthless,” Donovan said loud enough for Rick to hear. “I really should fire him.” Donovan moved closer to the fireplace, where Hope stood. “What’s your daughter’s name?”

She stared at him wide-eyed but finally answered, “Ella.”

The name rocked him. “For Isabella?”

Hope nodded, this time with all the sadness in the world. “Yes.”

He went to a safer subject. “How’s your dad doing?”

Misery filled Hope’s eyes and they began to mist. “He’s gone. Heart attack, last month.”

He reached out to touch her but stopped himself. “Oh, Hope. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

She moved her head as if trying to shake off the grief. “I heard about your grandfather. He meant a lot to all of us. As did your grandmother.”

For a moment, mutual grief filled the room. That one small connection felt like old times. Hope had always been so empathetic—issuing compassion as easily as if sharing a Ziploc bag of Oreos during lunch period. But they weren’t kids anymore and he wasn’t in the mood.

He stepped away. “Rick, what are you doing in there?”

A second later, Rick came into the room with a tray of chips, Pop-Tarts, and nuts, arranged like hors d’oeuvres.

“Are you kidding me?” Donovan exclaimed. The guy had been an elite Marine Force Recon and now he was acting like Martha Stewart.

Rick set the tray on the side table closest to Hope. “You have a guest. It’s only right you feed her.”

Hope did need to gain some weight. “Eat,” Donovan said.

Rick sighed heavily. “Sorry about him. He usually has manners.” He snatched a Pop-Tart before taking the seat across from her. “So Donovan tells me you were a better shot