She removed her glasses, studying him as she set them on the table. “How did you know?”
“Call it intuition.” He hitched up one side of his mouth. “Am I right?”
“Yes. You’re the first person I’ve told.”
“Simon doesn’t know yet?”
“No. I’m meeting him for lunch at the Myrtle.”
“He’ll be happy.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you happy?”
She sipped her latte, the creases reappearing on her forehead. “Relieved is more like it. I’m glad the decision is behind me.”
“What was the tipping point?”
He listened as she told him about her conversation with Reverend Baker in the St. Francis garden.
“It wasn’t as if he said anything I hadn’t already thought about—or anything you and I hadn’t discussed. But he did help me realize that my fear about taking the role was due to lack of trust. And for that I apologize.”
He frowned at the non sequitur. “Sorry. You lost me.”
“Let me back up and talk about God first.” She linked her fingers on the table. “I realized I have to trust him to lead me in the right direction career-wise. I’ve agonized over this for weeks. Prayed about it. Weighed the pros and cons. I wish the direction I’ve been searching for had been written in the sky, but sometimes you have to interpret the guidance you’re being given as best you can. I finally concluded that after all the work I’ve put into this career, I owe it to myself to finish it off with a bang.”
Finish it off.
That was encouraging.
His spirits took an uptick.
“I won’t dispute that—but why the apology?”
She sipped her latte, watching him over the rim of the cup. Set it down. “I also realized I have to trust your promise that you’ll be here after the movie wraps. I don’t come from a background that breeds trust, but you’ve given me no cause to doubt your word—or to be afraid you’d forget me. I’m just not used to someone being willing to wait when there aren’t any guarantees.”
“I hear you. And the truth is, I might not be inclined to—if I didn’t think the potential outcome was worth waiting for.” Follow her lead and put your own concerns on the table, Garrett. “As long as we’re laying it all out there, I’ll admit to a few fears too. If this movie is a success, it could tempt you to stay in Hollywood . . . despite all the negatives about the lifestyle.”
“I hope success, if it comes, doesn’t skew my perspective.”
“But it could happen.”
She fiddled with the lid of her cup. “I know.”
That wasn’t what he wanted to hear.
Despite the tension thrumming through his veins, he managed to maintain a conversational tone. “I imagine the lure of stardom would be powerful.”
“Yes—but so can the lure of a life without paparazzi digging into every personal detail”—she locked gazes with him—“and the possibility of finding a real-life happily ever after with a guy who puts all the Hollywood heartthrobs to shame.”
Some of the tautness in his shoulders eased. “Thanks for the ego boost—and infusion of hope. In the spirit of candor, I want you to know I’ll be counting the days until the movie wraps. Only my better angels have kept me from using every possible means of persuasion to convince you to ditch Tinseltown now for Hope Harbor.”
“Why didn’t you try?”
“For the same reason you decided to make the movie. After all the years you’ve devoted to your career, you owe it to yourself to claim the brass ring.”
She let a beat pass, never breaking eye contact. “Other types of rings are also worth claiming.”
Whoa.
That was direct.
A soft flush tinted her cheeks at his lack of response, and she dipped her chin. “Sorry for putting you on the spot. What I meant was that down the road, maybe we—”
“Hey.” He covered her fingers with his and waited for her to look up. “Don’t apologize. I feel the same way. I just didn’t want to say it too soon and risk spooking you.”
“It is too soon to be thinking along those lines. We shouldn’t let ourselves get carried away or jump to too many conclusions after only a handful of weeks.”
That was true.
Yet the same ability to read people—the same instincts that had served him well in business relationships in his previous career—told him his feelings for Katherine weren’t premature. While he wouldn’t rush their courtship if she came back, he was pretty certain he knew what the outcome would be.
“Don’t worry. I’m not the impulsive type. We’ll take our time—assuming Hope Harbor doesn’t lose its appeal for you.”
“That won’t happen. I’ve loved this town since the first day I set foot in it years ago.”
Whether her affection for the town—and for him—was sufficient to bring her back, however, remained to be seen. Even if she left Hollywood behind for another career, whatever new direction she took could lead her elsewhere.
For now, all he could do was pray for the outcome he wanted—and enjoy her last couple of days here.
“I agree with you. It’s a special place. So . . .” He checked his watch. “You have lunch with Simon. Are you up for a dinner on the beach tonight?”
Now that her decision was made, he intended to do everything in his power to create a few romantic memories she could call up while she was away to remind her of all she was missing . . . and all that awaited her in this small Oregon seaside town.
“That would be wonderful.”
“Does six o’clock—”
“Zach—sorry to interrupt.” A frazzled Frank stopped a few feet from their table, flashing her a silent apology before refocusing on his boss. “We got slammed with a tour group.” He motioned behind him, where the order line snaked out the door.
“I’ll be there in a minute.” He slid out of the booth as Frank hustled back to the counter, then turned toward Katherine, his back to the shop to block the patrons’ view of her. “Until tonight.” He leaned down and kissed her, hands flat on the table, lingering as long as he could.
When he straightened up at last, her cheeks were pink again.
“I’m guessing our take-it-slow-and-easy rule has been suspended for the duration.”
“Uh-huh. Unless you have any objections.”
“I can’t think of a single one.”
“In that case, be prepared for a memorable evening.”
Her eyes began to sparkle. “That sounds promising.”
“Count on it.” He ran a finger along her jawline with a whisper-soft touch.
“Can I . . . bring anything?” Her question came out a bit breathless. “Like, um, truffles for dessert?”
The lady was distracted.
Also promising.
“Truffles are always welcome—although I had another sweet dessert in mind.” He grinned and waggled his eyebrows.
“I think I should have ordered one of your icy drinks instead of this latte.” She fanned herself.
In his peripheral vision he caught Frank giving him a desperate glance. Reluctantly, he stepped back. “I have to go.”