Page 40 of Chocolate Cherry Cabin

In other words, there was no reason to tell anyone about their confusing little gray zone because they’d only assume it was something more than it ever could be. This was nothing more than a temporary distraction for both of them.

* * *

Louis could see that his house was different from what Hannah had expected. He’d taken great care to make the place feel like a home. His home. No mismatched, tatty furniture placed haphazardly throughout the rooms. Nope, his mismatched furniture was arranged in cozy, welcoming groups with area rugs and even some healthy houseplants sharing space with coasters and magazines on side tables.

“That’s the Mendenhall Glacier up in Alaska,” Louis said, as Hannah paused to take in the largest of his framed photos. His favorite were the glaciers, their blues and whites somehow making the place feel spacious and open instead of cold.

“It’s nice.” She whistled, calling back Obi, who had been trotting from room to room, lifting his nose to take in all that each space had to offer on an olfactory level.

“I just about fell out of the helicopter taking that one.” Louis pointed to another photo, feeling strangely awkward. There’d been no kiss hello, no embrace. Where did they stand? He watched her pale pink lips, her brown eyes, waiting for a clue.

“Are you serious?” she asked, turning on him, hands on her hips as if preparing to scold him.

He grinned. There was the reaction he knew. He sidled close, allowing his arm to brush her shoulder as he stood beside her, looking at the image. He rested a hand on her waist. “I was getting ready to ski, and I popped my camera out from under my coat to take a quick shot just as the pilot pitched the helicopter to bank and land. I wasn’t supposed to be leaning out like that.”

“Always up for an adventure, aren’t you?” The usual bite wasn’t in her tone, and he got the feeling she was distracted, maybe even wishing he’d break the ice and kiss her.

“I guess so.” He gazed at the picture for a second longer. He did like adventure. Mostly because after his mom had passed he’d preferred moving to staying still. If he sat, he thought. He felt. And there had been no end to how much he could feel.

“Do you sell your photos?”

He shook his head.

“What made you want to become a pilot? The rush of adrenaline? The ability to lift off and go where nobody else could? The imminent and constant pull of death or something like that?” She was smiling, uncertain, but sounded more curious than judgmental.

“My dad used to fly. It always seemed...” He paused as though searching for words, and Obi nudged his hand, earning an absentminded ruffling of his ears.

“Romantic? Adventurous?”

“It’s a shift in perspective. You lift above everything, and suddenly all that stuff weighing you down doesn’t matter anymore. It’s down there and you aren’t.”

Hannah mulled that over, as though unsure about what could possibly weigh down the man she saw representing freedom and adventure.

“What do you run from?” she asked.

He gave her a funny look. “It’s all still there when you land.”

“Like what?”

He could tell he’d disrupted the entrenched view she had of him as someone with an easy-to-discard adventure addiction. But he wasn’t quite sure she was ready for his deeper side, a side she might be able to identify with or ache over.

“The things you want but can’t have,” he said quickly, moving to the kitchen. “Hungry?”

She followed him, caught his eyes and looked away.

She stopped in the middle of the tidy space. “This is just like Calvin’s kitchen.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, no. Not really. He has necessities. This is ahome. But it has a similar layout.”

Louis got out plates and opened the boxes of Chinese takeout on the counter.

Calvin. Seriously.

Louis wanted to pull Hannah into his arms and give her a passionate kiss, then ask her if Calvin could do that. Send sparks shooting down their bodies, and make the world disappear like it did whenever they kissed. But unless the answer was a negative, he didn’t want to hear it.

“I should be painting.” She tipped a container, looking at its label. “Where did you order this? Sweetheart Creek doesn’t have Chinese.”

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