Windswept Way (Hope Harbor #9)(33)
Author: Irene Hannon

 

Kyle with Laura, one-on-one, where his sister could grill him about Ashley?

 

A disaster waiting to happen.

 

But after volunteering for KP, he was stuck. All he could do was clear as fast as possible and try to retake his seat before too much damage was done.

 

Unfortunately, Sarah also commandeered him to carry in the plates of dessert, and cutting the cake felt like a slow-motion exercise. As she carefully sliced it, did a fancy drizzle over each serving, and artistically placed a few fresh raspberries on each plate, he tried to keep one ear cocked to the conversation in the adjacent dining room.

 

Too muffled to pick up.

 

At last, dessert in hand, he rejoined his sister and foreman.

 

The speculative once-over Laura gave him wasn’t reassuring. Nor was Kyle’s fixation on gathering up a few biscuit crumbs from the tablecloth.

 

At least no one mentioned Ashley again during the remainder of the meal.

 

His reprieve, however, ended less than half a minute after he and Laura pulled away from Kyle’s house and headed home.

 

“When are you going to give me a tour of the Edgecliff grounds, like you promised?” His sister twisted toward him on her seat, studying his profile in the dark.

 

He should never have dangled that in front of her, hoping it would appease her if he begged off on dinners at sit-down restaurants.

 

“I don’t know if I can make that happen. I have a number of stops on my schedule tomorrow, so I won’t be on-site much. Friday I thought I’d take you up to Shore Acres State Park. And you’re leaving Sunday.”

 

“You could give me a tour on Saturday.”

 

“I don’t think the work crews are welcome on the premises on weekends.”

 

“You could ask. I bet Ashley wouldn’t mind.”

 

It was impossible to miss her slight emphasis on his client’s name—or its significance.

 

Kyle had filled her head with stupid ideas.

 

“I don’t want to impose. Besides, Rose wouldn’t appreciate strangers wandering around her property.”

 

“There will be hundreds wandering about once the place is up and running as a special events venue and museum.”

 

“We’re not there yet. And I expect she’ll stay sequestered while other people are around.”

 

“Does this mean you aren’t going to give me a tour?”

 

“Let’s see how everything goes. If I can block out a spare hour on Friday before or after our trip to Shore Acres, I’ll take you over.” But there would be no spare hour. He’d make certain of that.

 

“Kyle says Ashley is nice.”

 

He let that pass.

 

“Well?” She poked his arm.

 

“Well what?”

 

“What do you think?”

 

“She seems to be.”

 

“What’s wrong with getting to know her better?”

 

Jon squeezed the wheel. “She’s a client, Laura.”

 

“She won’t be forever.”

 

“I don’t date.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Come on, Sis. Get real.”

 

“I am getting real. You are way too sensitive about your scars. I never thought you were vain, but maybe I was wrong.”

 

“It’s not about vanity.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

He blew out a breath. “You sound like Ashley.”

 

The instant the words left his mouth, he cringed.

 

Though the car was dark, Laura’s intent scrutiny was almost palpable. “You’ve talked to Ashley about your scars?”

 

“No.” He gave her a quick recap of their first encounter. “She admitted to me later that the mask and chain saw had scared her, and I told her she’d have been more scared if I hadn’t been wearing a mask.”

 

“Is that when she called you vain?”

 

“Not exactly. Besides, it doesn’t matter. I don’t think—”

 

“I’d like to meet this woman.”

 

Not happening. Ever.

 

“She’s hard to pin down. Most days she’s out and about.” And he’d confirm her absence if Laura managed to strong-arm him into giving her a quick tour of the premises.

 

“Mmm.” His sister settled back in her seat. “You should take a serious look in the mirror, Jon.”

 

“I have.” He was all too familiar with the scars and the asymmetry of his features. No, it wasn’t the stuff of horror movies anymore, but it wasn’t anywhere close to normal either.

 

“Just because Melinda couldn’t deal with—”

 

“Laura.” He was done discussing this. If it took a bit of shock value to end the conversation, so be it. “The first—and last—time she saw me after the accident, she puked.”

 

Several moments of silence ticked by.

 

“You never told me that.” Laura’s voice was laced with tears. “I’m so sorry.”

 

“Don’t be. It’s history. But my days of appealing to the opposite sex are over.”

 

“I think you’re wrong about that. You may not be a chick magnet anymore, but believe me, the women who were drawn to you in those days aren’t the type you’d want to spend the rest of your life with anyway. True love goes a lot deeper than superficial appearance.”

 

“Says the prom queen who led the cheer squad and married the football-hero-big-man-on-campus after college.”

 

“So I haven’t walked a mile in your shoes. I get that. But I can imagine how awful it would be to lose your physical self-image. You—the real you, the you that matters—hasn’t changed, though. And the right woman would be able to see past any physical flaws and love the real you.”

 

He called up a smile. “You always were a dreamer.”

 

“Sometimes dreams come true.”

 

“Hold that thought. Now let’s talk about plans for the rest of the week.”

 

Thankfully, she let him guide the conversation for the remainder of the drive home, but as they parted for the night, she gave him an extra-tight squeeze. “You know, I bet if Melinda saw you now, she’d be sorry she walked out.”