Page 40 of Wind Valley

“No, the salmon jumped out of the freezer and dove into some milk, after chopping potatoes and carrots on its way. Of course I made it. I like to cook.”

She watched him as he took the pot from the refrigerator and set it on the stove. “Why did I not know that when I was showing off my meatballs?”

Showing them off? He hadn’t realized that was what she was doing. “I still dream about those meatballs,” he told her.

“They’re about to get even better. I acquired some oregano from Paulina Volk’s dried herb collection. I had to trade her for a sketchbook. It was a pretty high price, but so worth it. The next time I invite you, you should come over.”

He made a noncommittal sound. Refusing her last invitation had been difficult enough. He probably couldn’t do it twice. Now that she was here, he couldn’t stop stealing peeks at her flushed face and star-shine eyes. Her curves were so pretty in those leggings…his hands itched to settle on her ass and pull her against him.

No.

He wasn’t going to act like the man who had scared her. He was going to keep his distance and be her friend and not upset her. That was what he’d decided, and he was going to stick to it.

“See?” Maura jabbed a finger in his direction. “That’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What?” He looked around the kitchen, puzzled. What was bothering her—the chowder? The pile of dishes he hadn’t gotten to yet?

“That ‘hmmm.’ Like you don’t know if you should come over for meatballs again. You’re giving me the cold shoulder and I thought we were friends.”

“We are.” Even though a hollow feeling settled into the pit of his stomach, he gave her a smile. “Of course we’re friends.”

“Then what’s going on?”

He stared at her helplessly, unable to think of a way to avoid a direct question. “I want to be your friend. I am your friend. I’m the kind of friend who doesn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“But you don’t do that. What are you even talking about?” Something seemed to click. “Oh, because you asked me on a date way back when? I didn’t know you then. That’s not even…you don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. How to explain himself without telling her he’d Googled her and found out about that officer?

“No, of course it’s not that. I can handle rejection. We’re way past that.”

But she was shaking her head, as if he hadn’t understood her. “What I mean is, maybe things would be different, if you asked me now. I know you so much better than I did then. Why do you think I keep offering you meatballs?”

The salmon chowder made a thick bubbling sound on the stove, and he quickly moved to turn it down. Something wasn’t computing. Was she saying that she was asking him for a date? “Clarify, please. Are you asking me out?”

“Yes. I mean, it’s the Firelight Ridge version, since we can’t go to the movies or out dancing or anything like that.” She offered him a winning smile. “We could pick up a DVD from Kathy. I can play it on my computer. Dinner and a movie?”

“But…” He wanted to say yes, that dinner and a DVD sounded perfect. But his conscience wouldn’t let him. He had to tell her the truth. “I Googled you,” he blurted.

She froze. In the silence, he heard the drip of water from her scarf onto the floor. They both ignored it.

“Why would you do that?” she asked.

He didn’t answer that very valid question. “I saw some newspaper photos of you with a police officer staring at you in a very disturbing way. Maybe I misinterpreted it, but it looked to me like he was some kind of obsessed stalker. I came up with a theory. He was stalking you and you came here to get away from him. You aren’t interested in me or any other man because you were—are—scarred by that experience.”

She blinked once, twice, her blue eyes nearly black from the dilation of her pupils. “Just tell me why you Googled me,” she repeated.

“I wanted to know what you’re so afraid of. I’m curious about you. I think about you. I care about you. I wanted to be able to help you. So I Googled you and I saw what I saw. I saw those photos, that man. Now I know that we can’t ever be anything other than friends because I would never want you to feel anything except free and safe and happy. But now that I went behind your back and Googled you, you could never feel that way with me. You might not even want to be friends.”

Her lips twitched.

Which was basically the last thing he’d expected. He stared at her as a smile slowly spread from her lips to her eyes.

“Lachlan McGowan, has anyone ever told you that sometimes your brain gets in your way?”

22

“No.” Lachlan squinted at her warily from under his thatch of tousled brown hair. “Why would anyone say that?”

---