Finding Chris Evans: The Royal Edition (6 page)

“You were here during the day, I bet.”

LeeAnn let him draw her to the far railing, where the open waters of Lake Haralson lay like black glass beneath the starry sky. The stars weren’t relegated only to the heavens, however. Werth Inn rose along the southern edge of the lake, lit up with a spray of sparkling white lights that were echoed in its cabins up the ridge. Not like some sort of big city Christmas display, but elegant and almost ethereal, a painting from a fairytale.

“It’s just lights,” he murmured. “But it seems—special.”

LeeAnn grinned at Cris’s startled reaction. “It’s the clear lake and open sky,” she said. “Grandpa loved this place so much, he said he wanted to bring the stars down to the ground. He tinkered with those lights for years until he got the right balance. At the holidays, we do a few more, but these light up every night, year round. It makes me think we’re waving to him, wherever he and dad are now.”

She couldn’t help the catch in her throat, but Cris didn’t draw attention to it. He squeezed her hand and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her, her back to his chest. “What did Jake mean about you selling? Is that an option?”

“Oh—no. Not really. More of a family joke,” LeeAnn said. “My dad and Frank knew each other in high school, small surprise, and when they were growing up they used to scrap about how they could buy out the other inn. It never came to anything—and now…I’d feel bad, leaving all this. It was my dad and grandpa’s dream to see it take off.” This time, her voice wobbled, and Cris’s arms firmed around her. “They both worked so hard.”

Cristopoulis tightened his jaw as he gazed out over LeeAnn’s head, the twinkle of lights across the pristine lake an understated, glittering jewel on the far horizon. It was beautiful, yes, but it was above all remote, and he couldn’t imagine LeeAnn living the rest of her life here. She would find someone like Jake Donaldson to marry, have children perhaps, and settle in for the beautiful summers and long winters. She might even be happy, he supposed.

But she wouldn’t get a chance to fly away. She wouldn’t touch Paris or Milan unless she kept tapping the posters that hung throughout her carriage house like talismans to a life unlived. “Where would you travel first?” he murmured into her hair.

“You mean, after Garronia?” she teased, and his heart did something funny in his chest, to hear the laughter returning to her voice. She tilted her head against him, relaxing in his hold. “Well. After I’d had my fill of your homeland’s rudeness, I’d go to every country in Europe to start, by car if I could, so I could really see the countryside. Or maybe by train—since you actually have public transportation.”

“There are advantages to both methods.” Cristopoulis nodded, dreaming along with her for a moment. “And by boat too,” he added, thinking of the yacht he hadn’t set foot on in far too long.

LeeAnn snorted delicately. “Well, I’m not sure even my imaginary travel budget would cover that. I haven’t been on anything larger than a kayak.”

He dropped a light kiss on the crown of her head. “Let me get us some food,” he said. “There’s a place by the fire opening up if you move fast.”

She laughed again but left his arms—too quickly, he thought. He didn’t like the sensation of her leaving him, even at his direction. Still, he moved toward the buffet table with a lighter step. He would be here for another few days, and there was time enough to consider the future after that. A future he’d done his level best to ignore for four months, after all. He could do it a little longer. He could enjoy simply getting to know a soft-hearted innkeeper in Minnesota, and all her quiet dreams.

“Hello again!” He looked up to see Jake Donaldson on the other side of the table, serving as a chafing dish sherpa for a young boy in a black and white suit. Jake settled an enormous platter of potato wedges into place above a cheery fire, and patted the boy on his shoulder. “Next time don’t try and lift something so big, buddy. You can do anything, but not everything at once, okay?”

“Okay, Dad.” The boy looked up at Cristopoulis and his eyes widened. “Hi!” he said, then seemed to remember himself. He stepped back, ducking his head, and scurried away.

“Oldest son,” Jake shook his head, looking after the boy with clear affection. “Wanted to be of help so we told him he could serve the guests. Didn’t think he’d take us up on it. He spends his days glued to the internet or kicking a ball around.”

Sudden wariness skated through Cristopoulis’s stomach, but he couldn’t help but ask. “He plays—soccer?” he asked, as casually as he could manage. “I didn’t think Americans went in much for that.”

Jake snorted. “We don’t. Especially not up here in Minnesota, where it’s God’s country for football and hockey. But the kids get into soccer, and you can find a following in the bigger cities. You’re Greek, right? Italy—somewhere in that area?”

Cristopoulis didn’t mind the bald question, delivered as it was with such frank openness. “I’m from Garronia, actually—a small country near Greece. Something else not many Americans know.”

“Long way away,” Jake said. “You enjoying Minnesota? Dad said you’d been out on our North Woods expeditions a time or two.”

The question seemed once again artlessly probing, and Cristopoulis glanced at Jake. The man appeared a little too nervous. “I’ve enjoyed my stay very much. I’ll be leaving soon, I’m afraid, but it’s beautiful country.”

“Oh! Oh, okay then.” Jake scowled, and Cristopoulis finally gave him his full attention.

“Is everything all right, Mr. Donaldson?”

“Sorry,” Jake grimaced. “I’m not handling this well at all, but Dad sent me out here on a tear and I never was good at that spy shit.” He rolled his eyes. “That’s why I live in Minnesota, for God’s sake.”

Before Cristopoulis could ask him to explain, Jake shrugged. “Dad’s been trying to buy that inn from the Werths since the old man died, but LeeAnn’s father would have none of it, and then LeeAnn showed up and has done such a bang-up job, it seemed too rude to push. But he saw you with LeeAnn, and you’re clearly not from around here and he thought maybe you two were, you know, an item, and—well, he’s a greedy son of a gun.” Jake’s smile softened his words, his love for his father plain. “He immediately put two and two together and came up with six.”

“He wishes to buy Werth Inn?” Cristopoulis asked mildly, not wanting to act on LeeAnn’s behalf. Still, he couldn’t deny the weird surge of hope that skittered through him—and it wasn’t even his property. “He should ask. As the saying goes, everyone has his price.” He lifted his plate to Jake. “Make sure he knows about the antiques barn, though.”

Jake’s brows climbed up his forehead. “Antiques barn?”

“Is your grandfather still alive?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jake grinned. “Pops refuses to die. Refuses even to get sick, crotchety old geezer. We have him in one of the cabins on the lake, and the kids take turns getting their ears talked off by him.”

Cristopoulis thought about the chatter that had gone on between LeeAnn’s father and Jake’s father. If his experiences with his own family were any indication, chances were good that kind of friendly rivalry extended beyond one generation. “Ask him about the Werth antiques, maybe a motorcycle from Italy, see what he says.”

Jake’s eyes went wide. “I’ll do that,” he said, then he fixed Cristopoulis with a hard stare. “You sure we haven’t met already?”

“I’m sure,” Cristopoulis said. It was his turn to exit stage right.

He found LeeAnn at the fire, and his steps slowed as he took in the sight of her, backed by the glowing flame. He realized he’d never seen her this way, in all the months he’d been at the inn. She’d always been running this way and that, caring for everyone else’s needs but her own. She’d worn sensible dresses and sensible shoes, her hair tied back or piled on her head. Her smile always at the ready, her eyes always alight with caring.

But here, tonight, she could be any young woman in any city, her hair tumbling over her shoulders, her dress soft and feminine, her expression gentle as she gazed dreamily over the water. He was at her side in another moment, and she glanced up at him.

The look in her eyes took his breath away.

It was so open, so delighted, as if him simply coming back was the best gift he could’ve given her, and he’d only been gone a short while. What would it be like to walk into the gaze of such a woman every day, he found himself wondering. What would it be like to have his heart feel so light, his own smile so easy on his face?

She took the plate from him and he realized he was standing there stupidly, but he didn’t care.

“What in the world did you get us?” LeeAnn asked bemusedly, and he glanced down at the plate. There were probably twenty-seven potato wedges piled there, and nothing else. She burst out laughing. “Do they not have potatoes in Garronia?” she asked. “Because surely you’ve gotten enough of them while you’ve been here.”

“There are many things we have in Garronia, but we do not have potatoes covered in this much cheese,” Cristopoulis said defensively, lifting a wedge in defiance. “We do not have so much chili, either. You should not mock.”

“I wouldn’t think of it,” LeeAnn said, the dimples on either side of her mouth deepening as she struggled not to laugh. “What
do
you have in Garronia, then, since there’s a decided lack of comfort foods?”

He put down the potato wedge and looked at her, the words he wanted to speak so right, so natural that he couldn’t stop them even if he wanted to. Suddenly, LeeAnn’s hands were in his, and her eyes widened as he spoke.

“We have sunsets that seem to last for an eternity,” he said, “lighting up the Aegean Sea. A sky filled with a million stars—like your northern stars, but with the warmth of summer all year round. We have steep rocky cliffs sweeping down to the sea, white beaches that stretch for miles, and music and laughter and love. Most especially love.” He sat back, squeezing her hands gently. “That is what’s waiting for you in Garronia, LeeAnn, should you ever wish to fly.”

Chapter Five

LeeAnn marched up the steps to the carriage house, her mind whirling. Since Cris’s impromptu declaration at the North Woods Resort, the whole evening had floated by in a dream. He’d spoken of love, but of course he hadn’t really meant love-love, not like the love between two people, people like her and him. That would be crazy, and she didn’t do crazy. She was an innkeeper in Minnesota. The closest she got to crazy was a snowstorm in May.

Cris had walked her up the stairs, and was even now on the porch, deferentially standing back. He was there simply to ensure she made it safely into her house, she knew. And yet…

And yet.

“Thank you so much for tonight,” she said turning to gaze up at him. “It was perfect. Everything I could have wanted.”

“Everything?” he asked.

“Well, maybe not everything.” Emboldened by the look in his eyes, she lifted up on her toes, stretching toward him. He leaned forward and their lips met, the touch so right, so perfect that LeeAnn’s hands seemed to lift of their own volition to trace the edges of his suit lapels, even as Cris’s hands settled on her waist.

He deepened the kiss, then moved her across the porch another step, until her back connected with the smooth plane of the door. She blinked her eyes open, dizzy as he leaned away from her. “You’re satisfied now?” he rumbled, searching her eyes.

LeeAnn didn’t care that his words brought a blush to her cheeks. She knew what she had to do, and she would do it. The paperwork was on her kitchen counter, and she’d called a broker earlier that day regarding the bike. She could put down more money on the lease option, possibly even own the inn’s lodge house outright in another ten years.

Her father and grandfather would be so happy, if they’d lived long enough to see it.

But that was for tomorrow. Tonight was for all the what-ifs she’d never entertained, all the chances she’d almost but not quite taken. Tonight was for the stars that stretched across the sky, stars that extended all the way to Garronia and back. Tonight was for flying away.

“Not yet,” she said, and she turned then, fitting the key into the lock. When the door swung open, Cris pushed it further, entering the house with her. She’d come back home thousands of times since she’d moved into the carriage house without any fear of intruders, but she found she didn’t mind his protective frown as he scanned the shadowed interior.

She also didn’t move to turn on a light. He didn’t either.

“Where were we?” he murmured, and gathered her into his arms.

The second kiss was nothing like the first. Where on the porch Cris had been tentative, now he was intense, almost urgent, half pushing LeeAnn toward the couch until she sank back into its soft cushions. When she thought he would tumble down with her, he dropped to his knees. His face was now even with hers, his eyes intent. “What do you want, LeeAnn?” he asked roughly. “I don’t want to do anything you don’t want me to do.”

“This.” She leaned up toward him and brushed her lips over his, even as her hands shifted, connecting with the lapels of his suit. It was unbuttoned, and she pushed the jacket over his shoulders easily. “This.”