Windswept Way (Hope Harbor #9)(39)
Author: Irene Hannon

 

A wave of guilt crashed over him.

 

No, he hadn’t. They’d had two dinners at his house from the provisions she’d brought, venturing out only for a home-cooked meal at Kyle’s apartment and takeout pizza at the lighthouse.

 

He did owe her a meal at a real restaurant.

 

“Why don’t we go up to Coos Bay and—”

 

“I’m fine with Charley’s. We’ll claim a bench or grab the picnic table in the gazebo, if it happens to be empty. Since it’s obvious you don’t want to eat at a sit-down restaurant, I’m not going to force you. I didn’t come to Hope Harbor for the food anyway.” She hung a right onto Dockside Drive and motioned toward Grace Christian Church as they passed. “You ever go to services anymore?”

 

He squirmed in his seat. “Not lately.”

 

Like not in five years.

 

“Wouldn’t hurt. Might help.”

 

“With what?”

 

“With getting your life back on track.”

 

“My life is already on track.”

 

“You sure about that? Because as I recall, one of your goals back in the day was to have a wife and family.”

 

He wrapped his fingers around the strap of the shoulder harness. “Sometimes plans have to be altered.”

 

“And sometimes they don’t. Detours can involve delays and route adjustments, but the destination doesn’t have to change—unless you get so lost you give up.” She sent him a quick but pointed look. “I never thought you were the type who gave up, big brother.”

 

“Who said anything about giving up?”

 

“Actions speak louder than words. But I’m betting the right woman could change your mind.”

 

He erased the image of Ashley his brain conjured up. “I’m not discussing this.”

 

“Fine.” She motioned ahead with her hand. “We’re in luck. A vacant parking spot near Charley’s is a rarity in my limited experience.” She sped up and swung in. “You want to get the food while I secure a seat?”

 

He surveyed the stand. For once there was no one in line waiting for a taco fix. Too bad that hadn’t happened more often, or he’d have become a regular customer. “I can do that. But Laura . . .” He touched her arm as she reached to open her door. “Leave me out of the discussion during your tea with Ashley on Saturday.”

 

“That’s a tall order. You’re our link.”

 

“I have every confidence in your ability to direct the conversation to less personal topics. Promise me you’ll do that.”

 

“I can promise to try—but what if she asks questions?”

 

Not out of the realm of possibility, in light of the ones she’d posed the day he’d told her about his scars.

 

“Tell her I like my privacy, and that in the interest of sibling harmony you can’t talk about me.”

 

“Taking any mention of you off the table would be weird.” She tapped a finger against the wheel. “How about a compromise? I can promise not to discuss the accident or anything not publicly known that happened afterward.”

 

He could live with that bargain.

 

“Deal. But try to steer the conversation away from me.”

 

One side of Laura’s mouth rose. “You think Ashley will try to guide it that direction?”

 

He gritted his teeth. “I didn’t say that. I’m more worried about the direction you’ll guide it. I’m picking up matchmaking vibes.”

 

“You’re imagining things.” She gave a dismissive wave. “Besides, matchmaking doesn’t work unless there’s interest on both sides. So far, I’ve only picked it up on your end.”

 

For some reason, that observation didn’t sit well.

 

“I never said I was interested.” His response came out sounding peeved, and he reined in his annoyance. “As I keep reminding you, she’s a client.”

 

“Uh-huh.” She subjected him to a knowing once-over and opened her door. “Get the tacos. I’m staking a claim on the picnic table that was just vacated.”

 

She was out the door in a flash and jogging toward the pocket park behind the taco stand.

 

Jon exited the car more slowly and readjusted his scarf, shades, and baseball cap while he walked toward the stand.

 

As he had on past visits, Charley greeted him with a beaming smile. “Welcome back, Jon. I’m happy to see you out and about on this beautiful evening.”

 

The aroma emanating from behind the counter jump-started his appetite. “My sister didn’t want to go back to Colorado without another taste of your tacos. She picked your stand over a sit-down restaurant.”

 

“I’m flattered. Two orders?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I’ve enjoyed chatting with her on her two visits here this week.” He pulled fillets out of a cooler and set them on the grill. “How goes the Edgecliff project?”

 

No surprise Charley knew he’d gotten the job. Nothing stayed a secret in Hope Harbor, especially from the taco-making artist.

 

“We’re getting there, but we have a long way to go. Restoring the grounds of an estate that large is a challenge, made more difficult by years of neglect.”

 

“I can understand that.” Charley chopped up red onion with deft fingers. “Bringing ruined gardens back to life, restoring the beauty that was once there, requires vision and patience and plain hard work.” He angled sideways. “I’d say you’re well-equipped for that job.”

 

As their gazes met, Charley’s dark eyes seemed to see straight into the depths of his soul.

 

Jon’s heart stumbled.

 

Were they still talking about landscaping?

 

Before he could ponder that question, Charley turned away and tossed the onion onto the griddle. “How’s Ashley?”

 

“Um . . . fine.”

 

“An admirable young woman. She’ll be good for Rose.”

 

Jon did a double take. “You know Rose?”

 

“We became acquainted not long after she arrived in Hope Harbor. She brews a wonderful cup of tea, and her scones are to die for. Stiff competition for the ones at Bayview Lavender Farm.”