Page 91 of One Unexpected Kiss

She threw her hands up. “Are you going to contradict everything I say? We already established that I’m right.”

God, she was so right. I missed Claire because I loved her, wasinlove with her.I’m in love with Claire.I let the words roll around in my mind, getting used to them. As soon as I accepted the ache in my chest for what it was, it lessened somewhat.

But a new problem was before me. “I don’t know what to do now.”

“Um, for starters, you could try calling her.” At my pained expression, she sighed. “How badly did you screw things up?”

“I mean…” I ran my hands through my hair as I tried to remember exactly what I’d said to her. I hadn’t been too harsh—after all, I’d wished her well. But I’d also made it clear she needed to go—“Stop by and say hi.”I couldn’t believe I’d treated her so callously, as if she was just another tourist visiting my establishment.

There was too much at stake to talk to her on the phone. What if she simply refused to take my call? I needed to see her in person. There was one person who might be able to help me with that.

“Do you have Stephanie’s number?” I asked.

“No, but Carmen does,” Lyra said.

Before my sister could bundle up my niece and get her out the door, I was on the phone, trying to put a plan in motion.

***

Claire

I PROPPED THElaundry basket on my hip and hurried across my sister’s lawn, nearly slipping on a piece of ice and busting my ass. I’d decided I’d had enough snow and ice to last me a lifetime. I was still undecided where my next home base would be, but one thing was certain—it would be somewhere warmer.

Shivering, I opened the side door and slipped in. I set my basket down on the bench and hung up my coat on the hooks. Then I took my basket through the mudroom and into the laundry room.

“And this is an IPA?” Phil said from the other room.

“Yes, sir,” a familiar voice replied. “It’s called the Sunwheat IPA.” If I hadn’t already set down my basket, I would have dropped it.It can’t be.

Abandoning my laundry, I crept down the hall toward the dining room and peered around the corner. Jumping back out of sight, I gasped and slapped a hand over my mouth to muffle the sound.What is Bennett doing having a beer with Phil in my sister’s dining room?

This was weird. I didn’t like it. More to the point, I didn’t like how Bennett’s voice made my knees weak and my heart pound. I thought I’d never hear it again.

“It’s good,” Phil said. “I’m partial to whiskey and wine, but this isn’t half bad. You don’t have to call me sir, by the way.”

“Okay.” I could tell by the inflection at the end of the word that Bennett had been about to add “sir” when he stopped himself.

The whoosh of the kitchen door was followed by my sister’s voice. “They’re ready!”

I sniffed, trying to figure out what culinary marvel my sister had attempted this time. Her skill had improved slightly. Everything she made was still hit or miss, but it was all edible, and it saved me from having to cook, so I wasn’t complaining.

“Smells delicious,” Phil said. “What’s this one called?” Early on, he’s suggested she title each of her dishes, but that was just a way for him to politely inquire what she’d put in front of him was supposed to be. My brother-in-law was crafty like that.

“Mini Chickie pie.”

She’d been on a kick of making things in muffin tins, so I guessed it was chicken pot pie. That was difficult to screw up. At worst, it would be bland. I listened to the clink of metal utensils on plates. A moment later, coughing erupted.

“What’s wrong?” Stephanie asked, her tone worried.

“It’s good,” Bennett said quickly. “Just spicy.”

Spicy chicken pot pie? Oh boy.I stifled a laugh.God bless Bennett.That thought quickly brought me back to my original inquiry about what the hell Bennett was doing here. Surely he wasn’t trying to talk Phil out of moving forward with the resort.And why the hell is my sister serving him pot pie like he’s a Sunday-dinner regular?None of this made sense. And I couldn’t reason it out when my hands were shaking and my heart was pounding.

“Maybe a little too much pepper?” Phil suggested.

“Hmm,” Stephanie mused.

“I think that maybe, ah, we don’t have the right beverage for this meal,” Bennett said. “Do you have any milk?”

---