Page 43 of Family Bonds: Alana & Brennan
“I’m not,” he said.
“Oh.” There was a big grin on Sadie Austin’s face. “Then who?”
He knew this would come up when he asked his mother to watch Becca for the night. Not that he had any plans of Alana staying. Not even bringing it up. But he didn’t want the evening on a timer and his daughter would be asleep before he’d want to end his date.
There was no doubt in his mind that it’d be a good night. Neither of them wanting to sneak out of a bathroom window. He hadn’t done it before, but he’d certainly been tempted.
“I’d rather not say, but that will only make you more curious.”
“Yep, it did.”
“It’s Alana.”
“Becca’s new friend?
He sighed. “Get that smirk off your face. Yes. We work together, I told you that.”
“You’re not worried it could get messy?”
He was but didn’t want to admit it. “I think we are mature enough to not have that happen. It’s one date.”
Two in his mind if he counted last Saturday when she came for tacos and they entertained his daughter.
No reason to admit it was his daughter who had asked Alana over.
“I hope for your sake it works out.”
“Me too. I’ll pick Becca up in the morning. Let me know when she’s ready to go.”
He turned and left, jogged to his SUV and then drove to Alana’s house.
There was no reason to meet somewhere and she wasn’t that far from his home.
He pulled down the street ten minutes later, found her house. It was dark out feeling much later than six.
He couldn’t see the water, though he knew it was behind the house and down a bit. She’d said they had to walk stairs to get to the beach.
A house her parents owned.
He strode up the sidewalk, the front porch illuminated by two sconces on each side of the door, which opened before he could ring the bell.
“Hi,” she said. “Come in while I get my jacket on.”
He stepped foot into the foyer. The house was two-stories. Up close he noticed the gray weathered shaker siding. He’d bet it was a hundred years old easily, but the inside was fairly modern.
Dark hardwood floors flowing into a den to the right, a dining room to the left and a hallway in front of him that didn’t tell him much about the back of the house.
She grabbed a navy jacket out of a hallway closet and slipped it on over a pink sweater. She’d changed into jeans as he did.
Unlike his date with Celia, he exchanged the shirt he’d had on earlier today too. He was making more of an effort.
“I thought I’d do something a little different tonight,” he said. “I hope you like it. I get sick of going to dinner with someone and sitting across a table trying to find conversation. I feel as if you and I know enough about each other that we didn’t need to do that.”
“I’m open for anything,” she said. “Are you going to tell me what it is?”
“Sure,” he said. “I set up a night to paint. Maybe it’s silly, but you told Becca you loved to paint when you were a kid and took art classes. I picked up finger foods and wine and we’ve got a private room.”
Her wide-eyed silence wasn’t inspiring a lot of confidence in his decision.
