One Snowy Night (Sweet Home, Alaska #1) - Patience Griffin Page 0,77

pad if she was going to make design decisions for the lodge. She also needed to pack an extra set of warm clothes, a blanket, and a few other items. “Donovan, you might want to bring along an extra set of clothes.”

His eyebrow hitched up and she blushed.

“In case of emergency,” she said firmly. She wanted to tell him to take his mind out of the gutter, but hers seemed to go there repeatedly where Donovan was concerned. “You can’t have forgotten that here in Alaska we have to be prepared for anything.”

“Yes, right,” he said, chagrined.

Piney hung her coat on the rack. “Before I head to the store, I’ll pack your food for the road.” She glanced at the clock, frowned, and then looked back at the both of them. “On second thought, don’t even think about coming home tonight. You have too much to do. I’ll definitely stay here with Ella, that is, if it’s okay if Bill comes out here for dinner with us.”

“Make yourself at home.” Donovan patted Piney on the shoulder. “Thank you for everything, especially for looking after Ella.”

Hope felt three emotions at once. First, resentment that Donovan would presume to thank Piney for looking after her daughter. Second, anger at Piney for insisting they stay the night in Anchorage . . . together. Third, complete and utter panic. What if being stuck in the car with him was too much for her? What if her emotions got the best of her and she told Donovan how she’d missed him all these years? How her heart was bursting with joy to have him back in Sweet Home? How it’d been so wonderful for him to hold her and kiss her again? And that she’d like to do more of it?

She needed to get a grip. In the meantime she went to pack.

Within the hour, they were climbing into Donovan’s SUV with their emergency gear and overnight bags.

“Rick gave me a list of stores to hit. I guess I’m going to be the assistant to the interior decorator today.”

Hope shook her head. “I’m not the interior decorator. I’m just helping out . . . a friend.” It was a ballsy remark. She even dared to glance in his direction, only to be rewarded with a confused frown. Well, I won’t try that again. They weren’t friends anymore, only thrown together through circumstance. Oh, how her heart longed to be his again. But her good sense knew better.

While he drove, Hope drew sketches and made notes of things the lodge needed, from towels to linens to wall décor. Anything to keep her mind off the chauffeur.

“I have a question about the hardware store,” she said all businesslike, trying to come back from her earlier faux pas. “Are you going to put the quilt shop back within the store, the way Charles and Elsie had it?”

“Mr. Brewster’s drawing does include that,” Donovan said.

“I feel a but coming.”

“There’s not enough time to order fabric, at least enough to make it look like it did before. Maybe the new owner will revive the quilt shop and bring the hardware store back to its former glory.” Donovan looked contrite. He probably didn’t know any more than she did what the new owners would do. But the quilt shop within the hardware store had been a real draw to their quirky, charming town. Visitors from all over had come to see it . . . and to shop. The thought made her sad, to come this far and not go all the way with the restoration. She realized that she’d even been imagining the revival of the Sisterhood of the Quilt.

“Speaking of fabric,” Hope said, changing the subject, “did it register that Piney expects us to pick up fabric to make quilts for each of the cabins and the B-and-B rooms? It’s going to be expensive, you know.”

“I think it’s a great selling point,” Donovan said. “If we can make this a turnkey operation, buyers should be lining up when I put it on the market.”

There it was again. The one thing Hope was scared of—Donovan leaving—and at the same time, she was worried he would never go. She was in serious danger of falling for him so deeply that she would never recover.

She tucked her fear away and concentrated for the rest of the trip on how to optimize their time in the city.

When they pulled into Anchorage, it was midafternoon. “Big things first,” Donovan said. They headed to the