“Lars’s brother.” Was it Jane’s imagination or did Maggie’s cheeks just turn a little pink? “Nils.”
“His brother?”
“Aye. ’Twill be fun. Tomorrow night. Seven-thirty, and all the warm milk you like.”
Jane smiled. Regular people doing regular things. She was never invited to do regular things with regular people.
“Thanks. I’d love it. I’ll be here.”
“See you then, Jane.”
Jane walked back to the hotel slowly, warm and drowsy from the cool, fresh air and warm milk filling her belly, but she couldn’t shake Paul’s words: the cat’s meow…the ones who pass through.
She couldn’t shake the disappointment she felt in learning that Lars was a player.
If that’s what Lars was all about, Jane had best steer clear of him or she’d be in for some heartbreak when Sara hit town, because Samara Amaya specialized in flings. And she always got what she wanted. Always. Regardless of the collateral damage. And Jane wasn’t interested in another Ben Abaz situation.
It was probably just that she was overtired, but she felt so sad, hot tears gathered in her eyes as she pulled the covers over her body and settled her head on the pillow. He hadn’t treated her like Samara Amaya’s ugly-duckling cousin, and it felt unusual and special. She’d had such a good time with him and he had seemed so…different.
But, he’s not Jane. He’s not different.
She flipped to her side, staring at the seam of light under the bathroom door, willing herself not to think about him anymore. But, try as she might, her last thought as her eyes drifted closed was of Lars holding her hand in the car, and she moved that hand to rest on her chest, curled up longingly against her heart.
CHAPTER 3
Lars stood in the doorway of the second bedroom of the cabin, watching Jane sort and organize shoes, jewelry and clothing, baffled that any one person could possibly require so much stuff for a four-day stay. It was ridiculously self-indulgent and he wasn’t impressed.
Jane said she needed about twenty more minutes and then she’d be done. He checked his watch as he headed into the living room to wait for her, plopping down on the couch.
She seemed a little different this morning, but he couldn’t put his finger on how. More professional, more businesslike, yesterday’s repartee missing from their exchanges. She was perfectly friendly, but a good bit more reserved; he couldn’t account for the change, but the longer it went on, the more he missed the warm, minxy Jane from yesterday.
When he’d picked her up this morning, he noticed right away how much a good night’s rest brightened her eyes. Her hair was still drying from a morning shower which made her curls look tighter and springier, but he suspected they’d soften as the day went on. The dark circles under her eyes were gone, and her lips had tilted up in a polite smile as she pulled herself into his truck.
“Morning, Jane!”
“Good morning,” she’d replied, buckling in.
“You ordered sun and we delivered!”
“Yes. It’s a lovely day.”
A lovely day? The Jane from yesterday would have made a snappy comment about how he must have a direct line to God, and could he order up a hot cup of coffee while he was at it.
She didn’t smile at him, or offer any further conversation, but busied herself with her phone, checking texts and typing back, two thumbs moving like lightning.
“Did you sleep okay?”
“I did. Thanks.”
“Well, I thought we’d start with breakfast—”
“I’ve already eaten, thanks. Have to get those bags unpacked, so probably best to get started,” she said, still glued to her phone.
Lars had glanced over at her in confusion. She hadn’t asked about the Beach Boys, but he had them all queued up and ready to go. He thought about pressing play, but the potential embarrassment of her not acknowledging them, or worse— not wanting to listen to them—made him think twice. What was going on with her?
She finally put her phone down and rummaged through her bag. Finding the object of her search, she ran a tube of lip balm back and forth across her lips then pursed them together. He could smell the tropical sweetness of it…mango or pineapple—sweet and incredibly distracting.
“So, I guess I’ll drop you at the cottage and then…”
“Fine. And I have the list of groceries for you. Samara likes really high-quality produce, so please take care when selecting, okay? And if the brand I specify isn’t available, don’t buy a substitute. Please just mark it on the list and I’ll deal with it.”
“Fine.” He clenched his jaw. Nothing she was doing was wrong. She was polite and respectful. She was also in charge; he worked for her while she was visiting Gardiner. But, all of her warmth and teasing fun was gone, and he wanted it back. “Jane…”
She turned to him. “Hmm?”
“Is everything…okay?”
“Sure.”
“Are you…upset about anything?”
“Upset?” She shook her head, but didn’t look at him. “No. Not at all.”
“You seem…different today.”
“Just a lot to do today and tomorrow. Before she gets here.”
Well, he had tried. Business it is.
“Fine. I’ll drop you off, get the groceries, and then I guess we can go look at the locations?”
“Fine.” She crossed her legs toward the window, leaning her elbow on the windowsill. “Mind some fresh air?”
“You’re in charge,” he observed.
She rolled down the window and turned her head away from him, effectively ending their conversation.
Since he had returned with the groceries, she’d barely said a word, except to ask politely if he would put the perishables in the refrigerator and freezer.
He stood up from the couch and walked to the window. Beyond the dirt and dust that surrounded the cottages, there was a large patch of green meadow that extended out toward the park. A small herd of bison made their way into the meadow as if on cue. Three, four, five, eight, ten, twelve, fourteen, with a calf among them. He watched them lumber into position, until they were all munching on the sweet grass in the mid-morning sun.
If he wasn’t enough to bring out the sunny, teasing side of Jane, maybe they were…he walked back to the bedroom and stuck his head into the room.
“Jane!” he whispered.
She looked up at him and grinned, then seemed to catch herself and hurriedly looked down. When she looked up again, her face was cool and professional, eyebrows raised in question. “Yes?”
“I want to show you something.”
“I really have to finish this.”
“Bring your camera.”
He saw the incremental widening of her mossy eyes, the twinkling she was trying to keep hidden. Curiosity won out as she opened the backpack hanging on the door handle of the room and took out her camera.
He put his index finger up to his lips, indicating that she should be quiet, and she nodded, her eyes bright and engaged.
There’s my girl.
He led the way through the living room, pointing to the picture window.
He was rewarded with her gasp of surprise as she gazed at the herd, reaching for her lens cap with shaking fingers. Lars put his hand over hers.