Page 62 of Summer Weddings
Margaret, a pleasant-looking brunette in her thirties, joined them. She greeted Bethany with friendly enthusiasm, explained that she lived on the same street as Sawyer and Abbey did and that her husband was a pipeline supervisor who worked three weeks on and three weeks off.
Mitch hardly heard the conversation between Margaret and Bethany; the words seemed to fade into the background as he found himself studying Bethany Ross.
He wanted to know her better,but he wouldn’t allow himself that luxury. Although she claimed otherwise, he didn’t expect her to last three months, not once the brutal winter settled in.
But she intrigued him. Tantalized him. The reasons could be as basic as the fact that he’d been too long without a woman—six years to be exact. He’d buried Lori when Chrissie was little more than an infant. Unable to face life in Chicago, he’d packed their bags and headed north. As far north as he could get. He’d known at the time that he was running away. But he’d felt he had no choice, not with guilt and his own self-doubts nipping at his heels. He was out of money and tired of life on the road by the time he reached Hard Luck.
And he’d been happy here. As happy as possible, under the circumstances. He and Chrissie had made a new life for themselves, made new friends. For Mitch, the world had become calm and orderly again, without pain or confusion. Without a woman in their lives.
He certainly hadn’t expected to meet a woman like Bethany—a tropical bird—in Alaska.
She wasn’t precisely beautiful, he decided. She was…striking. He struggled to put words to her attributes. Feminine. Warm. Generous. Somewhat outrageous. Fun. The kids would love her. He’d spent ten, possibly fifteen, minutes chatting with her and wanted more of her time, more of her attention.
But he refused to indulge himself. He’d learned all the lessons he ever wanted to learn from his dead wife. The new schoolteacher could tutor some other man.
Bethany yawned and tried to hide it behind the back of her hand.
“You must be exhausted,” Abbey said sympathetically. “I can’t believe we’ve kept you this long. I’m so sorry.”
“No, please, it was wonderful of you to make me feel so welcome.” To her obvious chagrin, Bethany yawned again. “But maybe I should leave now.”
“She’s dead on her feet,” Sawyer said to no one in particular. “Mitch, would you be kind enough to escort her home?”
“Of course.” He set down his wineglass, but truth be known, he’d rather have declined. He was about to suggest someone else do the honors when he realized Bethany might find that insulting.
She studied him, and again he had the impression she could read his mind. He looked away and searched the room until he found his daughter. Chrissie was sitting near the door to the kitchen with her best friend, Susan. The two were deep in conversation, their heads close together. He didn’t know what they were discussing, but whatever it was seemed terribly important. Yet another scheme to outsmart the adults, no doubt. Heaven save him from little girls.
He turned to Bethany Ross. “If you’ll excuse me a moment?” he asked politely.
“Of course. I’ll need a few minutes myself.”
While Mitch collected Chrissie, Bethany bade the members of the school board good-night.
They met just outside the front door. He didn’t have to ask where she lived—the teacher’s living quarters were supplied by the state and were some of the best accommodations in town. The small two-bedroom house was located on the far side of the school gymnasium.
Mitch held open the passenger door so Chrissie could climb into the truck first. He noticed how quiet his daughter had become, as if she was in awe of this woman who would be her teacher.
“I appreciate the ride,” Bethany told him once he’d started the engine.
“It’s no trouble.” It was, but not because of the extra few minutes’ driving. But then he decided he might as well let himself enjoy her company, since the opportunity was unlikely to be repeated. Once the eligible men in Hard Luck caught sight of her, he wouldn’t stand a chance. Which was probably a good thing…
“Would you mind driving me around a bit?” Bethany asked. “I didn’t get much of a chance to see the town earlier.”
“There’s not much to see.” It occurred to him that he might enjoy her company too much, and that could be dangerous.
“We could show her the library,” Chrissie said eagerly.
“Hard Luck has a library?”
“It’s not very big, but we use it a lot,” said the girl. “Abbey’s the town librarian.”
Sawyer’s wife had worked for weeks setting up the lending library. The books were a gift from the O’Hallorans’ mother and had sat in a disorganized heap for years—until Abbey’s arrival. She’d even started ordering new books, everything from bestselling fiction to cookbooks; the first shipment had been delivered a week ago, occasioning great excitement. It seemed everyone in town had become addicted to books. Mitch had heard a number of lively discussions revolving around a novel. An avid reader himself, he was often a patron, and he encouraged Chrissie to take out books, too.
“Ms. Ross should see the store,” Chrissie suggested next. “And the church and the school.”
“What’s that building there?” Bethany asked, pointing to the largest structure in town.
“That’s the lodge,” he said without elaborating.
