Inside Out - Lauren Dane [4]
She was intelligent and diligent, loyal and brave. Braver than most people would ever know. His eyes swept to her legs, covered by a long, loose-fitting skirt.
She turned and handed him the Americano, made just exactly the way he liked it. She tucked an amaretto-almond biscotti on the edge of the saucer with a smile. “Made fresh today. I promise it’s good.”
He handed her the money, and she sighed when he waved away the change. “You deserve it for the biscotti. I need it this afternoon. I’ve had a long day.”
Instead of going to a table, he leaned against the counter and watched her work. The café his sister-in-law Erin owned and Ella ran was quiet for the time being, so he had her pretty much all to himself. He planned to take advantage of that fact.
“Are you all right? You mentioned your day,” she said when he must have looked confused. “I haven’t seen you around lately.” She bustled around the counter area, straightening, cleaning, polishing. Ella was rarely still; this fascinated him, though he couldn’t say why. It wasn’t a rare talent or anything.
She glanced up at him. “Ben said you were hiking. Was it fun?”
He knew she’d asked after him because his brother had told him. Still, it didn’t diminish the silly pleasure that she’d noticed his absence.
“A very good time was had by all, thank you for asking. Me and some buddies—Brody and Ben usually included, but they’re both a bit busy this year—hike Hurricane Ridge out in the Olympics.” He laughed, thinking of the way Erin’s belly had grown, of how she looked at his brother and their husband Todd like they were the best things on earth. “It was good. We were at a high enough elevation that we actually got a bit of snow, which isn’t totally unusual for early fall. I’ve seen snow at the higher elevations in the summer, even. It’s beautiful just now. Have you been?”
“You camped and hiked in the snow?” She shuddered, and he bit back a laugh. “Um, no, I’m happy to say I’ve not been snow camping because I’m not insane. I’ve been to the Ho Rainforest and I’ve done some hiking out there near Crescent Lake, but I’ve never camped and hiked like you do. Snow camping is just not a phrase I’d ever utter as a suggestion to how to spend my time. I love to ski, though I have to watch my knees now. I enjoy all that outdoorsy stuff, as long as I can escape it at day’s end. As in, hot toddies at the lodge in front of a fireplace, or cabins with high-speed Internet. I’m not much for roughing it.”
He laughed, but had the crazy desire to take her camping anyway. He could take her on long bike rides, show her the beauty of the Olympics in the fall. In the winter he was sure he could show her plenty of ways to keep warm, though he did agree with her that a hot toddy at the end of the day inside in front of a roaring fireplace was better than sleeping in a tent in the snow.
“I bet you’ve just never been with the right person. I promise you, camping is something you’d love with the right guide and gear.”
She raised both eyebrows. “It always sounds nice, but then that crazy reality comes knocking, and I remember it’s sleeping on the ground in a tent with nothing but less than an inch’s worth of fabric protecting me from bears and bugs. And random snow? Hmm. Can’t wait for that.” She wrinkled her nose. “Plus I’m the kind of girl who gets third-degree sunburn even after I put on sunscreen on. Then I peel and have eight thousand more freckles as a result. It’s a horrible cross to bear.”
She sighed and blinked, the corners of her mouth struggling to stay in place and not curve upward.
He laughed. “I like freckles.” He liked her freckles. He couldn’t say he thought about them much before he’d walked into the café that first time and laid eyes on her and those bewitching spatters of ginger all over that pale skin.
She looked him up and down, putting another biscotti on his saucer when he’d finished the first one.