Burke shook his head. “I knew who he was. And that he had a large family he was raising out here in California, actually. I was going to meet him, in fact—we were about to arrange for that—but he was killed in a private plane crash.”
Justine pressed a hand to her heart, as if it hurt her there too. “I’m so sorry.”
He couldn’t help but get lost in her eyes for bit, in the compassion he sensed in their hazel depths. “Thank you.”
The look in her eyes turn inquisitive. “You said he was raising a family. So you have half-siblings?”
Ah, perceptive. “Yes.”
Justine did a short gasp. “Wait, is that why you’re here? Are they close by?”
Again—perceptive. “They’re not too far from here, and yes. My mom died about five years after my father passed, but I worked a few more years in the city before I decided it was time to make the big move out here. Of course, my paternal grandmother—she’s pretty amazing—it was her idea to introduce me to the whole family at once. We did that over the summer.”
“Wow,” Justine said, her eyes lighting up now. “That’s exciting. I’m so happy for you. I would love it if I found out I had half-siblings somewhere.”
How true that must be, he mused, seeing that her aging granddad was all she had left.
“Yes, I’m fortunate. In fact, they have family cabin in Big Bear Lake. They’ve invited me to meet them out there for Thanksgiving.”
Justine shook her head in wonder. “That’s…it probably feels like a dream.”
He nodded, feeling the truth of it in the warmth pooling over his heart. It felt exactly like that. He guessed only someone with a past like she’d had could appreciate just how dreamlike it would feel. He held her gaze for a blink, enjoying the unique sense of connection.
Justine smiled and ate another mushroom. “These are amazing,” she said with a moan.
Burke smiled at the way she closed her eyes as she chewed, seeming to savor the taste. He speared a sauce-covered mushroom for himself and ate it, forcing himself to slow down. He closed his eyes momentarily, noting how the tiny crystals of salt enhanced the savory sweet flavor as it melted against his tongue.
“You’re right,” he said. “They’re delicious.”
Justine dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “So, tell me about your mom.”
An image of his mother floated to mind. “She was very independent, almost to a fault. She was the CEO of a large corporation until the day she could no longer work—that was a hard thing for her, as you can imagine.”
He moved to a few personal things next. Traits that made him long to have her back in his life. “She dressed nice no matter the occasion. She loved vinyl records—had this killer collection that she passed onto me, mostly classic rock. And um…” He grinned. “She refused to cook. We had a personal chef Monday throughThursday, then we ate out or ordered in over the weekend.
“But, there was one exception to her no baking rule. A very important one. Every fall, she loved to bake my grandmother’s flaky apple pie.”
“Was she good at it?”
Burke could nearly taste the tangy filling now. “Excellent. She was so good at it that, for a while there, I thought she was hiding some secret talent—that perhaps she was a good cook after all, but a few kitchen mishaps proved me wrong.”
“My grandmother was good at making pie too,” Justine said. “I wish I’d have spent more time with her in the kitchen, learning her secrets. I suck at pie-making,” she admitted with a grin.
Burke looked over her face, admiring the appearance of that dimple in her cheek. “Well I, unlike you, do not suck at pie-making.”
Justine’s eyes went wide. “You can bake pies?”
“Just apple,” he stipulated. “But it’s the best apple pie you’ll ever taste. Hands down.” He leaned over the table and shielded his mouth with the back of his hand. “There’s a secret method to creating those thin, flaky layers that make the crust melt in your mouth.” He could see Mom hovered over the mixing bowl now, smearing her flour-dusted hands on her apron, eyes sparkling with delight. It was the closest the woman came to experiencing true, domestic joy.
“What a neat memory that is,” Justine said. “It’s good that you have those to hold onto the rest of your life.”
“Yes, it is.” He cleared his throat. “Well, now we’ve both shared our sad stories, haven’t we?”
There was that dimple again. “I guess so. Thanks for sharing yours with me. I like that you’re pursuing a life with your half-siblings. That’s brave, and I’m sure it wasn’t easy at first. I’d be scared that none of them would want me,” she added with a laugh.
Yes, there was that.
“Anyway,” she said, biting on her lower lip. “It’s inspiring to see what others overcome in life, don’t you think?”
He held her gaze as a fresh wave of admiration ran through him. “Definitely.”
They worked on the appetizers a bit more, the quiet night a comfort as their conversation replayed in his head. Justine was easy to talk to. Easy to like. And perhaps…easy to fall for as well. He’d be surprised if at least half the men in town hadn’t already pursued her.
“You mentioned when we first met that you were buying land nearby,” she said. “Is that right?”
Careful, Burke. “Not too close by,” he said. “I finished closing a deal before I flew out, and now…now I’m just looking for the next one. Online, not in town.” There. That was all true. Sure, the property he’d purchased prior was in Piney Falls, but there was no need to add that detail. Especially if her reaction would be anything like Foster warned it might be. Besides, it would likely be a very long time before it sold.
“So when you’re reselling the land you buy,” she said. “Do you take into consideration what the buyer might build?”
Oh no. This was hitting a little close to home. Burke tipped his head. “Somewhat.” He reached for his glass, scrambling for a way to move beyond the topic.
“Let’s just say that someone bought land in Piney Falls. Or even just outside of it. If someone came in and threatened to build this massive factory that could pollute the area within miles around it, would you stop that from happening?”
Crap. More throat tightening. “I wouldn’t encourage anyone to put up factories. And remember, the law usually requires a notice to go up so that people have a chance to state their piece.”
“Yeah, but those get overridden all the time and it ruins everything. The environment, the air, the view. I mean, have you even looked at the stars out here?”
Great. This was the part when he’d discover that Justine was a tree-hugging, bleeding heart who would villainize anyone who dared disrupt a spot of barren land.
He braced himself, already feeling his defenses rise. “You say here like they’re different from the stars I’ve seen everywhere else.”
“That’s because they are.”
Burke glanced up to look beyond the string of patio lights and tall heat lamps. May as well indulge her. Yep, there were stars. And if they were so different here, he’d likely know it better than Justine. He’d been all over the world, for crying out loud. He doubted that she could say the same.