Currant Creek Valley (10 page)

“How’s that working out for you?”

She held up the leash. “He’s still with me instead of where he belongs.”

“Maybe with you
is
where he belongs.”

She made a face. “He has a home somewhere. I’m sure they’re missing him. I don’t mind watching him temporarily but once the restaurant opens, I won’t have time to take care of him very well.”

Saying that aloud made her sadder than it should. Already, the dog was seeping into her heart. She couldn’t allow that. It would hurt too badly when he left.

“Have time to give me a quick tour so I can check out the progress?” she asked quickly, eager to change the subject.

He shoved work gloves in his back pocket. “Sure. Love to.”

Did he sense the currents sparkling between them like dust motes in a beam of sunlight? she wondered as he showed her around the kitchen.

Eventually they circled back around to the spot where they had started. Alex planted her hands on her hips and gave a long look around at the total package. It was everything she had dreamed and more.

In her mind, she could see it in a few weeks’ time, teeming with her crew instead of his, with the scent of delicious food cooking replacing the sharp construction smells.

“I’m very impressed. You do good work, Sam Delgado. I can’t believe you’ve done all this in a week. You’re nearly finished.”

She should be jumping up and down with excitement about that, not fighting this vague depression that he would be out of her life soon.

“We’re ahead of schedule. Another few days should do it, then we’ll leave it to the painters and decorators. And speaking of work...I’ve been meaning to stop by the resort restaurant to have a meal so I can check yours out. Seems only fair, since you’ll see mine every day while you work in here.”

She would think of him. While she stood at that gleaming countertop, she would remember those big hands that had fashioned it. Eventually he would become just another memory in thirtysomething years of them.

That thought shouldn’t have made her suddenly sad, either.

“I would have thought the divine hamburger I fixed you the other day was proof enough of my mad cooking skills.”

He shrugged. “Still. I should have a second taste, just to be sure.”

Was he talking about her cooking or that kiss? She wasn’t quite sure...and wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

Out of nowhere, she was struck by the desire to cook him a really fabulous meal in her own kitchen at home.
Coquilles St. Jacques,
maybe, plump scallops in a dry white wine sauce with baby chanterelle mushrooms and Gruyère cheese.

The impulse unnerved her. She never cooked privately for anyone but close friends, and Sam Delgado was far from that. She swallowed the invitation before it could be anything more than an idea. Her cozy little house on Currant Creek was her haven. Just the idea of him in her comfortable space made her feel as if someone had dropped an ice cube down the back of her shirt.

The restaurant would do. She would make sure they served him a meal he would never forget.

“You do know I’m just the sous-chef there, right?” she said. Technically that was true, but the executive chef, Simon Petit, had two other restaurants, one in Denver and one in Aspen, so she had been doing the heavy lifting for years and had created about half of the items on the menu. With none of the credit, of course.

“Good enough for me. Do I need a reservation?”

She ought to tell him yes and that they were booked out for weeks, but this was the off-season and he probably could walk in any night of the week. “I’ll take care of it. When do you want to come?”

“How about tonight around eight-thirty?”

That meant she would see him three times in one day. So much for trying to keep a safe distance. “Great,” she said, lying through her teeth. “I’ll make sure we have a good table ready for you.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

“Sorry to interrupt your work. I’d better let you get back to it.”

“I’ll see you tonight then.”

His words were perfectly polite, innocent even, but she shivered anyway. Those nerves skittered around inside her like shallots in hot oil.

Firmly ignoring her reaction, she gripped the dog’s leash, gave Sam a jaunty wave and headed back outside.

Once more in the murky sunlight, she marched briskly down the hill. Only when she was certain she was out of sight of Sam or any of his crew did she lean against a convenient tree trunk and press a hand to her stomach.

She had a serious crush on the man. It was ridiculous at her age and completely counterproductive. She was going to have to do something drastic to exorcise it before she made a complete fool of herself.

CHAPTER SEVEN

H
E
WAS
IN
HEAVEN
.
Complete culinary heaven.

After finishing the best meal of his life, Sam sat back in his chair and wiped at his mouth with his napkin with a sense of total satiation.

Everything had been perfect, from the roasted fennel tomato soup at the beginning to the chocolate mousse layer cake he had just finished. He didn’t consider himself any kind of foodie, though his late wife had done her best to educate his palate, but he did know when something tasted just right. This meal definitely fit the bill.

Though the waitstaff had been attentive and helpful, Sam’s only regret was that he had missed the chance to see Alexandra. What was the point of coming out here to her restaurant if he didn’t have the chance to tell her how delicious everything had been?

He was about to ask his server if he could finagle a few minutes of her time when the kitchen doors swung open and she walked out. All that silky blond hair was gathered under a tall chef’s hat—a toque, he’d learned once when Kelli had been watching the Food Network from the hospital bed—and she wore a white jacket and black trousers. She looked crisply professional but every bit as beautiful as always.

Suddenly the whole evening seemed brighter. He didn’t find that a particularly comfortable realization.

“So?” She gestured to his table.

“I’m not sure I want to ever move from this spot again. That was fantastic. I can’t even describe how good it was.”

She plopped down into the chair opposite, snagged his wineglass and took a sip without asking. “Go ahead. Try.”

She really needed validation? He found that hard to believe, when she could produce such miraculous creations. “You do understand I’m not exactly a food critic, right? When I was a kid, a gourmet meal for us was a bucket of chicken. I’m only a dirt-poor kid turned soldier turned construction worker. Not sure if my opinion really holds all that much weight.”

“It does.”

“Okay. Well, I can’t tell what was my favorite part of the meal. That soup where all those flavors mixed together perfectly, the beef tenderloin that literally melted in my mouth or the roasted potatoes with the herb crust. What was that?”

“Oh, this and that. Rosemary, oregano, thyme and a few other secret things.”

He leaned back in his chair. “It was all divine. Every bit of the meal. But you knew that, didn’t you?”

“It’s always nice to hear it from somebody else.” Her grin was bright and infectious and he wanted to kiss her again, right here, right now, in full view of all her coworkers and the remaining patrons.

“When does your shift end?” he asked on impulse. Yeah, she had shut him down the last time when he asked to see her again but he couldn’t resist trying again.

“Now. We’re basically done for the night.”

If he were smart, he would thank her for a lovely dinner, head to his motel and try to sleep a little after a long day, preferably without frustrating dreams of her.

But sometimes the smart way seemed the coward’s way and he felt like living on the edge tonight.

“Up for another game of pool?”

She wanted to say yes. He didn’t know how he was so certain but for just an instant, something in her expression indicated she was seriously tempted, then wariness washed in like a dark cloud skating across the sky.

“I better not. I left Leo with Claire and Riley and told them I would swing by to pick him up after my shift.”

She paused, as if weighing her words. “I was planning to take him for a little walk to help us both unwind. You’re welcome to come along, assuming you can keep up.”

Laughter bubbled up. If he could keep up? He was used to twenty-mile forced marches in the middle of the night in the desert, carrying seventy-five pounds of gear, and she was implying she could out-hike him.

He could fall for this woman in a big way if he wasn’t careful.

Tonight he didn’t feel like being very careful.

“I’ll have to pry myself out of this booth first. After that delicious meal, that’s easier said than done.”

“Got a jacket handy, soldier? I was planning to hike up the Woodrose Mountain trail. It’s got a nice view of town from up there but the mountains are chilly once the sun goes down. The trailhead is just at the top of Sweet Laurel Falls Road.”

He loved the quaint place names in Hope’s Crossing. Glacier Lily Drive, Willowleaf Lane, Sweet Laurel Falls Road. Whoever went around with the naming pen had had a romantic streak. “I can find a jacket. Give me thirty minutes to run back to my motel for one and some hiking boots.”

And a flashlight or two,
he thought,
just to be safe.

“That should give me just enough time to change and pick up Leo.”

“Perfect. I’ll meet you at the trailhead in half an hour.”

She nodded. “I have a few things to wrap up here before I head down the canyon. It might be closer to forty-five.”

“That works.”

Though she had been the one to issue the invitation, he had the impression she wasn’t entirely thrilled now at the idea of spending more time with him. Again, he had to wonder why. Awareness sparked and snapped between them every time they were within a dozen feet of each other. She had to sense it. Did it make her antsy, too?

She returned to the kitchen and he quickly settled his check then hurried outside the restaurant to the lobby of the Silver Strike Lodge, a massive timber structure built in the style of old national-park lodges that somehow managed to look rustic and elegant at the same time.

The lobby wasn’t crowded but it was busier than he might have expected for the off-season. Then again, it was Friday. He could imagine the resort did a fair business with Colorado residents looking for a quick weekend vacation.

He had self-parked—he hated paying for valet parking when a few more steps could get him his own damn pickup truck—but as he passed a short line at the valet stand, one of the men standing there stepped out.

“Sam! You’re just the man I wanted to see,” Brodie Thorne exclaimed.

He stood with an older man with a shock of silver hair and a very well-cut suit.

“Hey, Brodie. What’s up?”

When he was first starting out in the construction business, he might have been nervous when the guy cutting the checks told him he wanted to talk, but he knew he was doing a good job at Brazen and had no concerns on that score.

“Nothing, really. I just wanted you to meet Harry Lange. Harry, this is the man we were talking about at dinner. Sam Delgado.”

The name rang a bell but he wasn’t sure why. He tried to figure it out as he shook the older man’s hand. “A pleasure.”

“The pleasure is mine. It’s rare I get the chance to meet a genuine hero.”

He glanced at Brodie, who shrugged with an apologetic smile. He hadn’t told Brodie much about his time in the Rangers but he fully expected the man had vetted him before bringing him to Hope’s Crossing to finish the project. He would have heard things, just as he probably knew all about Sam’s role in his father-in-law’s downfall.

He shifted and pretended to misunderstand Harry’s reference. “I’m not sure I’d call it heroic, but you’re right. A good finish carpenter is tough to find these days.”

The other man gave a rusty sort of laugh at that, earning him a surprised look from Brodie.

“Full of yourself, are you?” he said.

“About the things that matter in my life now,” he answered.

“I like a man who doesn’t live in the past. How are you enjoying our little corner of paradise, Mr. Delgado?”

He thought of Alex and this tangle of anticipation churning through him. “Everyone has been very welcoming.”

“Good. That’s what we like to hear. I understand you’re thinking of moving your construction business up this way.”

He glanced at Brodie, wondering just how much the two of them had talked about him over dinner and why his name had come up. This was the part he disliked about being an independent contractor, having to carry on polite conversations with people who might someday want to hire him. Especially when right now he wanted to be somewhere else.

“Not just thinking about it,” he answered. “The wheels are already in motion. I’m committed. I’ll be checking out houses tomorrow, as a matter of fact.”

Not that it was any of the man’s business. He wasn’t sure if he liked Harry Lange. The man held himself with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. He was trying to figure out how to politely excuse himself from the conversation when Brodie spoke.

“Sam, Harry is the major shareholder and founder of the Silver Strike Resort Group,” he said.

Was that supposed to impress him? He waited until he knew a man’s character before he cared much about his accomplishments and how much was in his bank account. “Looks like that’s working out well for you. It’s been nice talking with you but I need to go. I just made arrangements to meet up for a late-night hike with a beautiful blonde who said if I was late, she wouldn’t wait around for me.”

Harry laughed. “Let me guess. Alexandra McKnight.”

He stared. “How did you know?”

“Beautiful, blonde, smart-mouthed. That’s Alex. Besides that, I saw her talking to you at my restaurant. I like you, Mr. Delgado. I trust Brodie—and Alexandra, for that matter—to recognize quality, and I think you’ll be a good addition to this town. I’ve got an opportunity that might interest you and I’d like to talk to you about it. I don’t have much time to waste on this one. When you’re done with the real estate agent, come and see me at my home office.”

He rattled off an address, just assuming Sam would snatch it out of the air and remember it.

“I’m sorry. That’s not convenient for me.”

Both men looked at him, surprise on their features.

“How do you know until you hear what I have to say?”

“I meant meeting Saturday won’t work for me. I’m picking up my son in the morning so he can spend a couple days with me. He’s staying with my brother and his wife in Denver.”

“Bring him along. I like kids. I’ve got a couple grandchildren myself and I’m about to gain a whole passel of step-grandchildren.”

“Is that right?” Brodie asked, sounding surprised. “I hadn’t heard you were making things official. You didn’t say a word, all through dinner. When’s the big day?”

“Don’t know. I’ll show up whenever Mary Ella tells me.”

Mary Ella. He knew one woman named Mary Ella, had just met her that morning, in fact. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Harry Lange was about to marry Alexandra’s mother.

He wasn’t sure if that changed his ambivalence about the man at all but he
had
liked her mother. If Harry had convinced Mary Ella to marry him, Sam had to be inclined to think more favorably about him.

“If you don’t mind me bringing my son along, fine. I can be there tomorrow, late afternoon.”

“Great. See you then. Now I suggest you get a move on, son. Alex is a woman of her word.”

He had already figured out she would be. He nodded to both men and hurried to his pickup.

At the motel, he quickly changed out of slacks to cargo pants and suitable hiking boots. Back in his pickup, he was keying in the street address she had given him to his GPS when his cell phone rang.

Maybe she was backing out. Surprised by the fierceness of his disappointment, he reached for his phone and was happy on several levels when he saw his brother’s home phone number, the one Ethan used to call him.

“Hi, Dad!” his son chirped when he answered.

He suddenly missed Ethan with a fierce ache. “I thought you would be sleeping. I tried to call earlier but Aunt Cheri said you were still at Luke’s party. How was it?”

If not for the huge birthday celebration thrown by one of Ethan’s classmates—the party he had been hearing about for weeks—Sam would have driven down to pick up Ethan that night to bring him back with him.

“It was really fun! Luke has a swimming pool and a slide and a trampoline. I was very careful to follow all the rules. Only one person at a time is permitted to jump on the trampoline, Luke’s mom said so. It’s a safety issue. I waited to jump until everyone else was done and having cake.”

He wasn’t sure how he felt about having a son afraid to do anything he wasn’t supposed to. Pretty ironic payback for a guy who had broken as many rules as he could, once upon a time.

“I can’t wait to see you tomorrow,” he said.

“What time do you think you’ll be here?” Ethan asked. “I want to set the alarm on my watch.”

He laughed, even as he had another qualm. Since Kelli died, Ethan had been obsessed with setting alarms, keeping to schedules, probably out of some need to control the world around him that had turned so confusing and scary.

He wanted Ethan to be a regular kid, breaking rules, taking chances, missing the bus once in a while. Embracing life.

“I should be there around ten, then we’ll come back here and have two whole days together. You’re really going to like Hope’s Crossing, I promise. Remember how nice it was when we came that day last month? They’ve got a park here with a cool climbing wall and a rocket you can play on inside. In the winter, we can go sledding and maybe you can learn to snowboard.”

“I don’t know about that. My friend William said his brother broke his leg snowboarding.”

Further evidence of Ethan’s fears. “It can happen sometimes, but it’s a pretty fun sport if you know what you’re doing.”

“I guess.”

“We can talk about it. We have a few more months to go before it snows again. Meantime, get some rest and I’ll be there after breakfast tomorrow. I’ll see you soon.”

“Love you, Dad.”

“I love you, Eth. More than anything.”

They hung up and he stared out at the night for a long moment. His son was his priority. He had to be, especially during the transition phase while they both tried to adjust to their changing circumstances.

Ethan had lost so much. First his mother, then the relationship he had once had with his grandparents. Now he was losing something else important—his home for the past eight months, the cousins he loved and the aunt and uncle who had stepped up to help Sam.