Page 12 of Love Me Sweet

“It has its advantages.”

They walked in silence for another minute.

“The cost of housing in Jackson Hole is sky high,” she said when the silence continued. “I didn’t realize that when I moved here.”

“How’d you pick here?” His tone was conversational, as if he too was determined to avoid the uncomfortable silence.

“I’d been here before.” She lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug. “I remembered it as a magical, beautiful place.”

There was the barest flicker in his eyes. Sylvie might have missed it if she hadn’t been looking right at him. He’d made the connection. Remembered that she’d come here with him. They’d taken the trip on a whim, shortly after they’d started dating. He taught her to ski and how to throw a proper snowball.

It was during that trip to Wyoming that she’d fallen in love with Jackson Hole and with him.

Silence descended again. This time neither of them made the effort to break it.

He stepped to the side when she reached the cobalt blue door of The Mad Batter and pulled out her key. Sylvie still wasn’t certain why she’d brought him here, why she hadn’t simply insisted they conclude their business on the street.

You owe him.

“Spartan digs.”

She turned at the sound of the voice and realized that Andrew had stepped inside what she referred to as the order room. Not much larger than a deck of cards, it contained a small round table and two chairs.

“What happens if you have more than one visitor?” Even as he spoke, she saw his gaze checking out the gleaming vinyl floor in a black and white checkerboard pattern and the cherry red cushions on the chairs. Bright spots of color in an otherwise unimpressive area.

“Someone has to stand.” Sylvie flashed a quick smile. “Plus, it seems to motivate the customer to decide quickly on what they want.”

“Where are the ovens?”

It appeared Andrew expected a tour. Well, that wouldn’t take long. Not when the entire space she rented was smaller than his walk-in closet.

She stepped inside the kitchen, unable to stop the flush of pride at the sight of the commercial ovens and stainless countertops. Even the air smelled clean. And it was all hers. Hers and the First National Bank of Jackson.

“Impressive.” He sounded as if he really meant it. “You mentioned you live here, too. Where’s your apartment?”

“Apartment is much too glamorous a term for where I live.” Sylvie gave a little laugh as he followed her through yet another door.

Inside the postage-stamp sized room sat a twin bed--sans headboard--pushed against a wall. The only other furniture was a microwave on a stand and a straight-backed chair that had clearly seen better days.

She swept a hand to encompass the small area. “Home sweet home.”

Though he was obviously trying to hide his shock, he wasn’t pulling it off.

Andrew cleared his throat. “This is…all of it?”

“No, there’s more.”

The tight stiffness in his shoulders eased. He smiled. “I knew this couldn’t be all.”

“There’s a three quarter bath through there.” She gestured with her head through yet another door. “So you see, it isn’t quite as small as it appears.”

Confusion blanketed his face. He cocked his head and stared. “Why do you live like this?”

“The rent in Jackson Hole is crazy.” He wanted honesty, she’d give him honesty. “Besides, small has its advantages. This spot is warm and dry and…cozy.

And beats sleeping in the van, she added silently.

His lips quirked up in a reluctant smile. “You always did have an optimistic nature.”

---