“Katherine said there have been encouraging signs the last few weeks.”
“We can hope and pray for that. Either way, though, Charlie won’t be able to squeak out of this, no matter how many strings the mayor tries to tug.”
“My heart is sore for the whole family. Mrs. Beaumont comes into my store sometimes. So does Gen, of course. She’s very upset by the whole thing. From what I understand, her fiancé has some political aspirations. Gen worries his family will now see her as a liability.”
A timer on the stove went off before he could answer. “That’s my chicken,” she said.
He straightened. “I’ll leave you to your dinner, then.”
Again, he had the odd sense she was debating something. “Have you eaten?” she finally asked.
“I’m not going to eat your dinner.”
“I made plenty. When the kids are with Jeff, I always make a little extra for leftovers so I don’t have to cook for myself. I’ll warn you, it’s not much. Lemon-rosemary chicken and rice.”
His stomach rumbled again. Even though he knew it wasn’t smart, he was tempted—and the food was only part of it. In the past ten minutes here in her kitchen, the stress and tension of his day seemed to have seeped away. He felt more calm than he had in weeks. He wanted to say yes, to sit down and enjoy a meal and conversation with her in this quiet, peaceful kitchen. The ferocity of the desire scared the hell out of him.
“I’d better not. I’ve got about three hours of paperwork to finish tonight that I’ve been putting off all week.”
“Of course.” She hid it quickly, but he didn’t miss her disappointment. “I understand. You’re busy. Let me fix you a plate and you can take it home and eat it while you work.”
She reached into a cupboard and his throat just about closed up. She had been working hard all day, too, struggling with the frustration of double casts, and she still wanted to take care of him.
Oh, he was in deep, deep trouble.
“You know, my paperwork’s waited this long. Another half hour or so won’t hurt.”
“Great. Let me just toss a quick salad.”
He took the plates from her and set them on the dining nook table in her kitchen and quickly pulled flatware from the drawer. He found it more than a little disconcerting that he was beginning to know where to find things in her kitchen. A few moments later, Riley sat down to what looked like the best meal he’d had in weeks, even counting the always-good food at the diner.
“This is delicious, Claire,” he said after the first bite. “Much better than the cold pizza I probably would have had for dinner.”
“Thank you. Fresh rosemary makes all the difference. Alex taught me that, FYI.”
“Alex gives you cooking lessons, Angie brings you cinnamon rolls. You’re more a part of my family than I am.”
“Not true! Your mom and your sisters all adore you.”
Would they still feel the same if he decided to leave Hope’s Crossing? He quickly changed the subject. “Is it tough for you when Owen and Macy are at their father’s, being alone here in this big house?”
She took her time answering. “The house certainly seems quiet. I usually try to work late on those nights whenever I can. I’m still not crazy about the silence.”
He was so used to silence that he didn’t know any different. He’d never lived with a woman and hadn’t had a roommate since his freshman year of college.
“I miss them,” she went on, “but it’s important for them to spend time with their father and the new family he and Holly are starting. I understand that. Every time I’m tempted to just pack up and go as far away as I can, I remember this is best for the kids.”
He stared. “I thought you loved Hope’s Crossing and wouldn’t dream of living anywhere else.”
“I dream,” she said simply. “Don’t get me wrong, I do love it here. For all the occasional glitz and glam during the ski season, this is a small town at heart, full of good people who care about each other. If I ever wonder again, I only have to remember the overwhelming support we’ve received for the Giving Hope Day.”
“So why would you even think about leaving?”
“I could come up with a few reasons. Wondering what else is out there. Feeling trapped. My mother. Do I need to go on?”
He laughed. “But you won’t leave, will you?”
“Not while the kids are young anyway.”
“Don’t you think most people in your situation would rather escape the awkwardness?”
“I’m no saint, Riley. We’ve established that. My motives are mostly selfish. I love running String Fever, and my friends and support system are here, too. I’m comfortable here.”
“You belong here.”
“So do you.”
“I’d say the jury is so far out on that one that nobody knows where they are anymore.”