Page 31 of Lavender Lake
He grinned. “So, can I? See it?”
“Sure,” I said, my heart beating in trepidation.
We walked through Hadley’s room into the bathroom. The counter was devoid of personal products. No make up, no lotion.
She didn’t live here. She lived with Declan in our family’s guest cabin. And she was expecting a baby. Our lives were so different now.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Bowman said as I just stood there, looking in the mirror.
“Just a penny?”
“Twenty-five cents—adjusted for inflation.”
My mouth quirked. “They’re maudlin. Not worth talking about.”
“You’re sad. Aren’t you?” He cocked his head to the side. “I mean on a deep, deep level.”
I turned to him and gently placed my hand on his chest.
His eyes widened in surprise at my voluntary touch. “What are you?—”
“Tour’s over,” I grumbled, shoving him back toward Hadley’s room. When he was clear of the doorway, I closed the connecting door and locked it.
He knocked on the door. “Hey, I have to use the bathroom!”
“There’s one in the hallway and another downstairs,” I called back. “And there are a few trees out back. Take your pick.”
I went into my bedroom and made up the bed, wishing I was anywhere but here.
CHAPTER NINE
The Ranch
An hour later, I came out of my bedroom and listened for sounds of movement.
But when I didn’t hear anything, I called out, “Bowman?”
Nothing.
I called his name again, but the house was silent.
“Great,” I muttered.
Now I was alone in my childhood home with no one to talk to, which meant I had nothing but my own mind to occupy myself.
I went downstairs and into the kitchen. I pulled out mixing bowls and muffin tins, and then I set the temperature on the oven.
An array of aprons hung on the cast iron hooks by the pantry door. Muddy’s was well-worn and splattered with tomato sauce, grease, and other ingredients I couldn’t decipher.
Hadley had an apron, too, but I didn’t reach for hers, or for Muddy’s.
Instead, I took the blue and white striped apron from its resting place and held it in my hands. I brought it to my nose, but the scent of my mother was long gone.
Swallowing a bout of tears I’d never let myself shed, I thrust the apron over my head and tied it behind my back.
As I set the timer, the doorbell rang. I opened the front door and my eyes widened at the tall, blond man wearing a cowboy hat. “You.”
“Me,” Gideon agreed with a rueful smile. He held up a pie. “My mom wanted me to bring this over.”
