He clearly hadn’t known she was Sara’s cousin – his face had registered total surprise. So, she’d taken off her glasses and faced him, making it easy for him to stare at her, make his mental comparison, find her lacking, cringe—or whatever else he needed to do—and get the whole mortifying ritual over with.
She wanted to weep when it didn’t happen.
He didn’t inspect her like a third-rate cow at a state fair. Instead, he asked about her father, told her how sorry he was, shared how much he missed his own mother. It made her lonesome heart contract with longing at the unexpected goodness of it, the sweetness of the reprieve, his sheer kindness. And something substantial shifted inside of Jane—something instinctually inconvenient and risky to her heart—as she searched his handsome face for censure and found none.
In that moment Lars Lindstrom felt…possible.
She took a deep breath of air into her lungs, trying to get out of her head, but familiar doubts already started creeping in.
Don’t fool yourself. He is out of your league, Jane. This will end badly if you don’t let go of it now.
She shushed the voice in her head, but it was persistent in its concern.
What’s gotten into you today, Jane? Turning off your phone? Calling “Samara” Sara? Walking beside Lars Lindstrom right now like it could actually go somewhere? Like he could ever actually be interested in a Plain Jane like you? Make no mistake; if you get involved with him, he will dump you the moment Sara gets to town. Stop throwing caution to the wind. Remember Ben. Protect yourself before you get hurt.
She looked up at him. He was pointing out a bridge up ahead and saying something about the Yellowstone River, talking animatedly, smiling at her, then gesturing behind them, talking about the source of the river. She nodded at him with a vague grin, but she hadn’t paid attention to a word he was saying. They paused at the bridge, leaning over the railing to look at the rushing water below.
Finally he turned to her. She could feel his eyes.
“Hey, you know who you kind of remind me of a little bit?”
She looked up. He leaned on the railing, staring at her and she felt her heart leap in her chest beholding those light-blue eyes, so searing, so fixed.
She swallowed. “Who?”
“Did you ever see that show Felicity? When the main character cut her hair? It sort of looked like yours does.” He smiled at her, and reached out, pulling on a curl gently, then watching it spring back.
“You’re talking about Keri Russell,” she said, cheeks flushing from the unexpected compliment.
“Yeah! Her. You look like Keri Russell!”
It was on the tip of her tongue to point out that Keri Russell was a famous—and very beautiful—actress, while Jane was just her cousin’s plain assistant, but opted to joke with him instead: “So, are you big into the chick shows, or…”
“Nah. My mom liked that one. I pretended I hated it. But, I—”
His mood changed on a dime and he shrugged, dropping his hand and turning away from her.
“You watched it with her. While she was sick.”
He nodded, still looking out at the river, the silence strangely comfortable between them for several long minutes as the water rushed white beneath their feet.
The sun lowered to the horizon as they stood side by side, so Jane took off her sunglasses, tucking them into the front of her tank top. He looked over at her and she watched his eyes flick to her breasts, linger for a moment, and then return to her face.
His cheeks pinkened, and she couldn’t resist teasing him.
“I’ve heard…if you take a picture it lasts longer. Do you want to borrow my camera or anything? You might need the zoom lens, but you can use it if you want…” She wiggled her shoulder, letting the camera strap slip down her arm.
His face was an appealing shade of salmon as he rolled his eyes at her. “You stole my line.”
“You stole it first.”
“You’re trouble, Minx.”
“Aw, I’m harmless.” She shoved her hands in her back pockets, which pulled her shoulders back and flaunted her measly—but apparently, compelling—assets.
“Mmm,” he hummed, narrowing his eyes. “Harmless my ass.”
“Now, your ass is another story.”
“Minx, again!”
She giggled. “Had enough of your ass and my chest?”
“I honestly don’t know how to answer that. Damned if I do…”
“Then don’t. Take me to dinner?”
“Now, that I can do.”
***
After dinner Lars drove her to the Best Western where he had already reserved a room under her name. He got out of his truck and pulled her duffel from the back, holding it out to her.
“Unless you want the door-to-door service?” he asked.
“Not necessary, Just-Lars. I’m the low-maintenance cousin.”
“We’re a full-service operation, Minx.”
She had been smiling at him, but her smile faded. “Better not call me that when Sara—I mean, Samara, gets here.”
“Why not?”
“She wouldn’t like it.”
“Maybe I’ll take my chances.”
“You’ll make my life harder if you do.”
“What’s with your cousin anyway? She can’t be all bad.”
Jane looked away, her face blank, guarded. Finally she sighed. “How about we talk more tomorrow? While we look at the shoot locations?”
He was curious about Samara Amaya, but honestly, he was more curious about Jane, and how exactly Samara, of whom she didn’t seem overly fond, fit into her life. He predicted it was complicated. Lars hated complicated. Lars avoided complicated like the plague.
“Sure. Tomorrow. What time do you want me here?”
“I still have to unpack a few more of her bags too.”
He nodded. “I can take you to the cabin at nine? I don’t mind helping, if you need me.”
Jane smiled. “Yes, I’m sure you’ll be very effective lining up her Jimmy Choos. I tell you what. Maybe I could give you a grocery list while I finish the unpacking? You could grab her some supplies?”
“Who’s Jimmy Chews?”
Jane giggled. “You’re definitely on grocery duty, my fine friend.”
“Okay. It’s a date. I’ll be here at nine, drive you to the cottage, head to Arnold’s, pick up whatever you need, and I’ll get some lunch for us too. We’ll drive out to the shoot locations around eleven? We can have lunch somewhere in the park.”
“Sounds perfect. Thank you, Lars.”
“Well, I’ll—” He sort of saluted her awkwardly but as he was walking back to his truck door he heard her call his name. He turned around.
Jane approached him, a leather bag on each small shoulder, slight smile, sweet brown curls, her shiny eyes the color of spring moss in a summer shower. For a moment it seemed like she didn’t know why she had called him back, and for a brief instant he considered leaning forward and kissing her.
He didn’t, but damn, he wanted to.
She tilted her head to the side, must have remembered what she wanted to say.
“If it’s sunny tomorrow…do you have the Beach Boys? We could listen to Endless Summer to mark the end of summer?”