Page 30 of Love Me Sweet

But the endless sky was no longer a vivid blue. It was grey, and based on the clouds rolling in, a storm was headed their way.

By the time they got the bikes loaded, splatters of rain slapped the van’s windshield. As Andrew had left his car near Sylvie’s shop, they stopped there. She changed her clothes then they drove in separate vehicles to Spring Gulch.

His friend’s house was a mammoth ranch with a stone front and a three-stall garage. Andrew pushed the remote for two of the doors and they pulled inside. When the garage door lowered, the rain began in earnest.

Andrew hopped out of his car to open Sylvie’s door but she’d already stepped out. Her eyes scanned the interior of the garage, which was empty.

“It looks as if no one lives here.”

“Unless it’s ski season, no one does,” Andrew spoke over his shoulder as he unlocked the door leading into the house. He stepped back and gestured her inside.

Sylvie walked down the hall, past the laundry room and a bathroom then stopped and stared. This place was bigger than the Teton Village condo where they’d stayed when they’d come to Jackson to ski. Lots bigger.

Andrew paused beside her. In front of them was the great room with soaring ceilings and a row of floor-to-ceiling windows that offered an amazing view of the Tetons. The house had an open floor plan with a well-stocked country kitchen with both a breakfast bar and a small eating area. The great room was his favorite in the house, with its stacked stone fireplace and rugged wood mantle.

As rain continued to pelt the windows, Andrew decided that despite the earlier sixty-degree temperature, tonight he was going to enjoy a glass of wine in front of a fire.

He was contemplating the pleasure of it when he realized Sylvie still hadn’t spoken. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s so, so big.”

For a second, he thought she was joking. Then he saw the awed look in those violet eyes.

If she thought this place was big, what must she have thought of his parents’ home with its suites of rooms and formal gardens? He recalled how she’d never seemed to fully relax when they were together there.

At the time, he’d attributed her unease to the fact that she hadn’t known his parents well and possibly sensed their silent disapproval. But now he realized it had been more.

The house had been too big, too different from her normal world for her to be able to relax. Because he’d been caught up with his practice and his father’s attempts to involve him even more deeply in the business, he hadn’t done enough to make her feel at home.

But they were alone in this house. He could make her comfortable here. Sylvie had to feel safe to let down her guard. Only then would he be able to truly get to know her.

She appeared ready to relax. When they’d stopped at her place, she’d changed into leggings with boots and a top with jagged edges around the hem that brought to mind Robin Hood and his merry men.

The color was an eye-popping purple that brought out the violet in her eyes. She blinked those big, beautiful eyes and cocked her head. Lifting the sack with the sandwiches they’d picked up at Hill of Beans and planned to eat at Lake Jenny, she smiled. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starved. Are you ready to eat?”

“Right after I get a fire going.”

“It was sixty degrees this morning.” The wind punctuated her words by slapping a wall of water against the windows with the force of a hurricane blast. Sylvie appeared to reconsider. “On second thought, a fire sounds fabulous.”

“There’s a bottle of wine on the counter.” He gestured to the bottle sitting on the granite countertop. “I’ll pour us a glass after I get this fire going.”

With the help of a gas starter, a fire soon blazed in the hearth. When Andrew turned, he found Sylvie standing there, a glass of wine in each hand.

Behind her, on the coffee table were two plates holding sandwiches, cut-up fruit and chips.

Taking the glass of wine she extended, Andrew surprised himself—and her—by leaning forward and brushing her cheek with his lips. “Thanks.”

He wasn’t sure what made him do it, other than he and Sylvie had always been affectionate with each other.

Bright pink flared in her cheeks but she said nothing, only took a seat on the overstuffed leather sofa facing the fire. Tucking a foot beneath her, she peered at him over her glass.

Though there was lots of space on the large sofa, Andrew sat beside her.

“What?” he asked, seeing a question in her eyes.

Sylvie cocked her head. “I have a question for you.”

He sipped his wine, waited.

“What are we going to do now?"

---