spent four years searching for?
Happily humming “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas,” Travis poured himself a cup of coffee and wandered outside in his bathrobe, pajama bottoms, and house slippers to retrieve the Saturday morning edition of the
Twilight Caller
from the front lawn. He bent down, scooped up the dew-covered newspaper wrapped in clear plastic, and raised his head.
That’s when he saw her.
There, at the edge of his property line, just across the one-lane road from Lake Twilight glimmering silver-blue in the spreading dawn, stood Sarah. Her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail braid and she wore black Lycra exercise pants and a plain white cotton T-shirt that stretched enticingly across her chest.
His gaze dipped downward as he took her in. It amused him to see she still wore the same black stiletto boots she’d worn the night before. When had she become such a girlie-girl? He remembered her as something of a tomboy.
That was a long time ago. She’d been a kid then. She was a woman now.
Travis eyed her curves. One hell of a woman, in fact.
He straightened, tucked the paper under his right arm, and took a sip of his coffee, trying to decide if she was really there or just a wishful apparition of his imagination. With his free hand, he cinched his bathrobe tighter, trying to cover up his bare chest as best he could, and raised his cup in greeting. “Morning.”
For a moment, he thought she was going to turn and run away, but she stood her ground. He walked toward her.
She raised her chin. “I took your advice about exercising and went for a power walk.”
“In those boots? You don’t have any sneakers?”
“I didn’t think I’d need sneakers and I don’t like to check my bags at the airport, so I try to pack light. Besides, these boots are comfortable.”
“For a power walk?”
“I am working on a blister,” she admitted.
“C’mon in.” He inclined his head toward the door. “I’ll get you a Band-Aid.”
“That’s okay.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m good.”
He watched her pull in, raise her defenses. “So, other than the blister, how did the walk make you feel?”
“Good … great … amazing actually.” She sounded surprised.
“Fresh air clear your head?”
“Yes.”
“Get your blood pumping?”
“Uh-huh.”
He grinned. “Told you.”
She flicked her gaze behind him and he turned to see what she was looking at. All he saw was the Queen Anne-style cottage built in the 1920s, complete with gingerbread trim, a wraparound porch, and window boxes.
“You’re living in my grandmother’s house,” she said softly.
“You didn’t know?”
She shook her head.
“Crystal and I bought it from your parents after your grandmother died. Then I paid it off with the insurance money from when my father passed away and I sold his house. I own it free and clear.”
“Oh.” She stayed expressionless, staring at the house.
Travis loved this house, but Crystal had hated it. “Too small,” she said, “too cutesy.” Crystal had dreams of living in expansive splendor far beyond the reach of Travis’s pocketbook. He had to admit the place was a bit cutesy. It reminded him of one of those cozy cottages in Jazzy’s Beatrix Potter books. It seemed almost magical somehow, especially when the mist rolled in off the lake.
He noticed Sarah had fisted her hands at her side and her lower lip tightened. Was she hurt by the discovery? “Your folks didn’t want to keep the house for you? I know how close you were to your grandmother.”
Sarah’s eyes darkened. “I wasn’t given the option. I was sixteen and away at boarding school when Gram had her first stroke and my parents moved her to a nursing home in Houston. I guess they didn’t think it was important to let me know who bought it and I suppose I never thought toask. My parents …” She shook her head and the long braid swished against her back. “We’re not close. I’m a huge
Happily humming “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas,” Travis poured himself a cup of coffee and wandered outside in his bathrobe, pajama bottoms, and house slippers to retrieve the Saturday morning edition of the
Twilight Caller
from the front lawn. He bent down, scooped up the dew-covered newspaper wrapped in clear plastic, and raised his head.
That’s when he saw her.
There, at the edge of his property line, just across the one-lane road from Lake Twilight glimmering silver-blue in the spreading dawn, stood Sarah. Her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail braid and she wore black Lycra exercise pants and a plain white cotton T-shirt that stretched enticingly across her chest.
His gaze dipped downward as he took her in. It amused him to see she still wore the same black stiletto boots she’d worn the night before. When had she become such a girlie-girl? He remembered her as something of a tomboy.
That was a long time ago. She’d been a kid then. She was a woman now.
Travis eyed her curves. One hell of a woman, in fact.
He straightened, tucked the paper under his right arm, and took a sip of his coffee, trying to decide if she was really there or just a wishful apparition of his imagination. With his free hand, he cinched his bathrobe tighter, trying to cover up his bare chest as best he could, and raised his cup in greeting. “Morning.”
For a moment, he thought she was going to turn and run away, but she stood her ground. He walked toward her.
She raised her chin. “I took your advice about exercising and went for a power walk.”
“In those boots? You don’t have any sneakers?”
“I didn’t think I’d need sneakers and I don’t like to check my bags at the airport, so I try to pack light. Besides, these boots are comfortable.”
“For a power walk?”
“I am working on a blister,” she admitted.
“C’mon in.” He inclined his head toward the door. “I’ll get you a Band-Aid.”
“That’s okay.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m good.”
He watched her pull in, raise her defenses. “So, other than the blister, how did the walk make you feel?”
“Good … great … amazing actually.” She sounded surprised.
“Fresh air clear your head?”
“Yes.”
“Get your blood pumping?”
“Uh-huh.”
He grinned. “Told you.”
She flicked her gaze behind him and he turned to see what she was looking at. All he saw was the Queen Anne-style cottage built in the 1920s, complete with gingerbread trim, a wraparound porch, and window boxes.
“You’re living in my grandmother’s house,” she said softly.
“You didn’t know?”
She shook her head.
“Crystal and I bought it from your parents after your grandmother died. Then I paid it off with the insurance money from when my father passed away and I sold his house. I own it free and clear.”
“Oh.” She stayed expressionless, staring at the house.
Travis loved this house, but Crystal had hated it. “Too small,” she said, “too cutesy.” Crystal had dreams of living in expansive splendor far beyond the reach of Travis’s pocketbook. He had to admit the place was a bit cutesy. It reminded him of one of those cozy cottages in Jazzy’s Beatrix Potter books. It seemed almost magical somehow, especially when the mist rolled in off the lake.
He noticed Sarah had fisted her hands at her side and her lower lip tightened. Was she hurt by the discovery? “Your folks didn’t want to keep the house for you? I know how close you were to your grandmother.”
Sarah’s eyes darkened. “I wasn’t given the option. I was sixteen and away at boarding school when Gram had her first stroke and my parents moved her to a nursing home in Houston. I guess they didn’t think it was important to let me know who bought it and I suppose I never thought toask. My parents …” She shook her head and the long braid swished against her back. “We’re not close. I’m a huge
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