One Snowy Night (Sweet Home, Alaska #1) - Patience Griffin Page 0,79

liked without concern for cost. And she loved every second of it. The store clerks seemed excited to get such a large order so late in the day. Donovan didn’t even flinch when he was told the total, but instead gave a friendly smile to the cashier as he handed over his credit card.

They arrived at the next quilt shop just as it was closing. Hope was almost giddy when she found the Barbara Lavallee Arctic Wonders fabric and took it to the cutting table. She pulled out her phone and turned to Donovan. “Look at this. Isn’t this quilt so Alaska?”

The shop owner peeked over Hope’s shoulder. “Oh, that’s the Arctic Adventures pattern from Patti’s Patchwork. We have that one. Let me get it for you.”

Donovan smiled at the picture. “That quilt will look great in your bedroom.”

“That’s what I was thinking. But it’s not my bedroom. Just a place I’m staying for now.”

He gazed at her as if they’d never been apart and all their history was shared. “Your bedroom, Hope. Nan always insisted you should call the lodge home.”

“Yeah, well, that was a long time ago.” Why did he have to look at her that way? Stir up old feelings? She could feel her cheeks getting warm and she grappled for something to say. “Elsie would be tickled that there are going to be special quilts in every bedroom. I remember her talking about doing it herself.” Hope had already bought moose fabric, bear fabric, even Highland cattle—Highland Coos—fabric for the cabins. Tomorrow, she’d look for some buffalo plaid for the boys’ rooms. “So . . . do you know what you’d like for the master bedroom?” It was awkward for her to ask. It wasn’t as if they’d ever share the room together but her mind went there anyway.

It had been one heck of a day, with her feelings going haywire. Out of control . . . Frazzled! Excited! And at the same time, she knew she was getting all worked up over nothing.

“I don’t know. What do you think?” Donovan said, bringing her back to center.

“Honestly, I think you’ll need to tone down that bedroom set with something more delicate.” She held out some fireweed and forget-me-not fabric. “Something like this.”

“I like it. Let’s get it while we’re here.”

Hope picked out the coordinating fabric but knew she’d want to speak with Bill and Piney before cutting into it.

“We can come back here in the morning and get more fabric, if you need to,” Donovan suggested.

“That’s okay. I think this is it for here.”

After a shopping trip that was more fun than Hope had dreamed, they drove to a restaurant down the street, where Rick had made them a reservation.

The restaurant was thronged with diners in nice clothes, clinking glasses and making a din. She’d been in Anchorage with her dad, of course, but she’d never been out on a date there. Not that this was a date! She laughed to herself . . . as if she’d know what to say or do on a date. Hope tried not to feel embarrassed when Donovan slipped an extra bill to the maître d’. Was it because the maître d’ was staring at Hope’s old brown parka and secondhand black skinny jeans? She could dimly remember a time when clothes had been important to her, but that was before she had rent, car payments, and a child to raise.

Hope tagged along as Donovan was led to an intimate table in the back. She almost wished they’d been placed at the bar because sitting across from him was almost too much. This table for two was meant for holding hands and gazing into each other’s eyes. She was happy when the menu was set in front of her. Even happier when the food arrived quickly so she could focus on it instead of how blue Donovan’s eyes were. And how those eyes used to be filled with love for her. He was so good-looking and so generous with his smiles for others . . . and today he’d been generous with his smiles for her, too.

The seafood was fantastic and Hope ate heartily; shopping, plus being near Donovan all day, had worked up her appetite. When the waiter brought their decaf coffees at the end of their meal, Donovan scooted closer, making her world tilt a little. If it’d been another time, she would have leaned over and kissed him. Laid one on him because that was what