Page 32 of Dream Lake

Chris turned his hand palm up and squeezed hers before letting go. “What else is going on in your life?” he asked after a moment. “Is there a Mr. Right in the picture? Or a Mr. Wrong?”

Zoë shook her head. “No time for a love life. My work keeps me busy. And on top of that I’m getting the house ready for my grandmother.”

Chris stood to take his plate to the sink. “You’ll let me know if you need help, I hope.”

“Yes.” Zoë stood as well. She felt relieved, as if their relationship had finally become what it was ultimately supposed to be. Friendship… nothing more, nothing less.

“Thank you,” Chris said simply. “You’re a beautiful woman, Zoë, and I’m not just talking about the outside. I hope to God you find the right guy someday. I’m sorry I got in the way of that.” He reached out for her, and she went into his arms and hugged him. “I needed to find out if you still hated me,” Chris said above her head. “I’m so glad you don’t.”

“I could never hate you,” she protested.

The kitchen door opened as someone came in. Chris’s arms loosened. Zoë glanced at the doorway, expecting to see Justine.

Alex Nolan stood there, hard-faced and unsmiling. In the confines of the kitchen, Alex looked bigger than Zoë had remembered him, and meaner, and she could almost swear that those moments when he’d held her at the lakeside cottage had been nothing but a dream. As his wintry gaze raked over Zoë, an unmistakable tension inhabited his stillness.

“Hi,” Zoë said. “This is my ex-husband, Chris Kelly. Chris, this is Alex Nolan. He’s going to do the remodeling for the lake house.”

“That hasn’t been decided yet,” Alex said.

Still keeping an arm around Zoë’s shoulders, Chris reached out to shake Alex’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Alex returned the handshake in a businesslike manner, his gaze returning to Zoë. “I’ll come back another time,” he said brusquely.

“No, please stay. Chris was just leaving.” Seeing the accordion-pleated folder in his hand, Zoë asked, “Are those the plans? I would love to see them.”

Alex returned his attention to Chris. Although his expression betrayed nothing, a sense of hostility seemed to char the air. “You live on the mainland?” he asked.

“Seattle,” Chris said equably.

“Got family here?”

“Just Zoë.”

The reply was followed by a silence as prickly as a dead juniper bramble.

Removing his arm from Zoë, Chris murmured, “Thanks for breakfast. And… for everything else.”

“Take care,” she said softly.

A metallic jingle cut through the air. Alex was fiddling with his car keys in a show of impatience.

Chris exchanged a private glance with Zoë, his brows drawing together as if to ask silently,What is his deal?

Zoë wasn’t entirely certain. She gave Chris a bemused little shake of her head.

Her ex-husband left the kitchen, closing the door carefully behind him.

Zoë turned to confront Alex. He was more casually dressed than she had ever seen him, in a gray T-shirt and paint-stained jeans. The worn attire looked good on him, the denim clinging loosely to the hard lines of his body, shirtsleeves taut over sturdy arms.

“Would you like some breakfast?” Zoë asked.

“No, thanks.” Alex went to set his wallet and keys on the table. He removed a sheaf of paper from the folder. “This won’t take long. I’ll point out a couple of things and leave the drawings with you.”

“I’m not in a rush,” Zoë said.

“I am.”

A frown knit between her brows. She came to stand beside him at the table, while he spread out meticulous floor plans, elevations, and interior renderings.

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