The miles seemed to melt away beneath the spinning tires as they sang their way toward their destination. When they tired of singing, they chatted about this and that. Grant always enjoyed learning something new about Skye. And even when they fell silent, it was comfortable instead of awkward. Before Grant knew it, they had reached the outskirts of McCall. He eased off the gas as the speed limit dropped, ten miles per hour at a time. Skye reached over and turned off the stereo.
At last, they entered the resort town. His friend, Andy Davidson, had given Grant clear directions to the restaurant’s location. Easy to follow—a right, a left, and another left. After the last turn, at the end of a short road, he saw the sign on a new building: THE SUNDOWN.
“There it is,” he said to Skye.
“Good. I’m famished.”
After parking the Jeep, Grant hopped out and hurried around to open the door for Skye. He offered his hand, and she took it without hesitation. As if they’d been holding hands for years. He was sorry when she let go.
“How do you know the owner?” she asked as they walked toward the entrance.
“Andy’s from Montana too. We met at the university in our freshman year.”
“And you bonded over your common interest in food and cooking?”
Grant chuckled. “No. He was a business major. He planned to be a CEO of one corporation or another by the time he was thirty. But the first business he invested in was a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant, and he found he liked running it. So he bought a place that was bigger and better and liked it even more. Then he inherited this piece of property from a relative and decided to tear down what was on it and build the Sundown.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“Not surprised.” He pulled the restaurant door open and waved her inside. “It just opened a couple of weeks ago.”
“Has he tried to steal you from Ultimate Adventures and the Tamarack Grill?”
Before Grant could answer in the affirmative, Andy appeared, walking toward them with an arm outstretched.
“Great to see you.” Andy shook Grant’s hand with gusto. “Have you thought about my offer?” Without waiting for an answer, Andy looked at Skye. His eyes sparkled with appreciation, and his voice deepened as he said, “You must be Miss Foster. A pleasure to meet you. I’m Andy Davidson.”
“It’s nice to meet you too.”
“Was good of you to drag Grant out of Kings Meadow. I’ve been after him to come up to McCall for months, but he’s always busy.”
Skye glanced in Grant’s direction. “This was all his idea. I had nothing to do with it.” She smiled, and the warmth of her gaze made him feel like a hero out of one of his sisters’ romance novels.
After a period of silence, Andy cleared his throat. “I’ve got the best table in the house all ready for the two of you.” He motioned for them to follow.
Andy hadn’t lied. It was a great table. At the back of the restaurant, up five steps, then up another five, the table looked out over the lake. Sunlight glimmered off the water in sparks of gold and silver. Waves created by breeze and boat motors lapped at the shore below them.
“It’s beautiful,” Skye said.
Andy grinned at them both and then walked away. Moments later, the waitress came to take their beverage order.
As soon as the waitress was once again out of hearing, Skye leaned toward Grant. “So he has tried to steal you away from Kings Meadow,” she said in a hushed tone.
He shrugged, liking that she’d overheard Andy’s question. Not that he wanted to be prideful, but still . . .
“You aren’t going to leave, are you?” There was earnest concern in her voice now.
He matched her posture, his gaze holding hers. “I’ve got a few good reasons not to leave.” A slow smile curved his mouth before he added, “At least I hope so, Skye.” Another few heartbeats. “Do I?”
The room seemed to spin. Skye’s heart raced. The conversations of other diners dimmed.
“I’ve got a few good reasons not to leave . . . At least, I hope so, Skye . . . Do I?”
She found it hard to draw a breath as the words repeated in her head. Was he asking about her? About her feelings? Was she one of those good reasons for him not to leave Kings Meadow?
Before she could think of what to say, the waitress arrived with their beverages. Skye felt a sudden and strong dislike for the girl and her lousy timing. Oblivious, the waitress asked, “Are you ready to order?”
Skye glanced at the menu, settling on the first thing she saw. “I’ll have the lemon-crusted chicken.”
“Any sides?”
She shook her head. Hurry up. Go away.
The waitress looked at Grant.
“I’ll have the pan-seared trout, please. Garlic mashed potatoes for the side.”
The waitress smiled. “I’ll have these right out.” She walked away in the direction of the kitchen.
Skye feared the interruption had ruined the mood, but when Grant’s gaze returned to her, the intense look in his eyes made her pulse gallop a second time.
He drew his chair closer to hers. “Skye, I’ve never known anyone like you. Never felt this way before. There’s something . . . something special going on here.” He pointed to himself, then to her. “Between you and me.”
She swallowed.
“Do you feel it too?” he asked, his voice low.