Page 25 of The Clover Chapel (Jamison Valley 2)
Squirming to get loose, I stepped out of his space.
“The evil living room carpet fairies have been tripping me in that spot for months,” I blurted, trying to shake off how good it had felt to be pressed up against his hard chest. “I usually come in through the kitchen and avoid this area altogether.”
“Want me to see if I can stretch the carpet? Get that ripple out?” he asked.
“No, that’s okay. I just need to remember it’s there. I might replace it all with hardwoods anyway.” I took another step away. “We still have about fifteen minutes until the pizza is ready. Shall we continue the tour?”
My modern, yet rustic house was nestled into the forest at the base of the mountains. Other than a small lawn out front, the whole place was surrounded by large evergreens.
There were three levels in the house. The two upper floors sat on top of the garage and wine cellar. Outside, a set of wide stone stairs curved its way from the driveway to my front door.
“Big place,” Nick muttered as we moved further into the living room.
“It’s more space than I need but I love all of the windows and balconies.”
I had pictured myself living in a quaint Montana cabin; unfortunately, none had been on the market. So I’d settled for this place, knowing I’d be surrounded by trees instead of high-rises.
The living room was made mostly of floor-to-ceiling windows except for a wall with a huge stone fireplace. I stayed inside while Nick inspected the deck that ran the entire length of the room.
I skipped the upstairs tour so I could avoid showing Nick my bedroom. The idea of him standing by my bed was unsettling and far too intimate.
“Would you like a beer?” I asked as we entered the kitchen.
“Sure. This is quite a kitchen,” Nick said.
I went to the fridge and got myself a glass of chardonnay and him a Coors Light. “You are not wrong.”
The kitchen spanned almost the entire back length of the house, running behind the dining room and joining with the living room. Rich brown alder cabinets lined the walls. The Sub-Zero refrigerator was almost five feet wide, the gas range had seven burners, and there were two sets of stacked convection ovens. In the center was an enormous butcher-block island.
Most nights, I ate at one of four stools bordering the rectangular island. It felt too lonely to sit at my eight-seat dining room table.
“Do you like to cook?” Nick asked.
“I don’t have a lot of experience. When I was growing up, my family had a chef so I never learned. Logan and I ate out for most meals.” I didn’t miss the way his jaw clenched at the mention of Logan’s name. “I’ve been trying to teach myself since moving here but it’s hit or miss.”
“Bet you’re going stir crazy up here in the mountains all by yourself.”
“A little. I miss being around adults, but I don’t miss all of the forced smiles and small talk. That scene was always my father’s. After I quit working for him, I would have stopped going to those types of events completely if it weren’t for Logan’s responsibilities.”
“What are those?” he asked.
“Logan oversees his family’s foundation. The Kendricks give huge sums to charities every year, and either Logan or the foundation’s CEO tries to personally attend the larger events.”
“Hmm.” He took a long pull from his beer.
This was miserably uncomfortable. I had decided earlier that I would take any opportunity to mention Logan tonight. Nick needed the reminder that I had a boyfriend, and if I were being honest with myself, so did I. But now that the room was filled with tension, I was rethinking my plan.
We both stood at the island in silence until the timer on the oven dinged. We ate quietly opposite one another. Nick was deep in thought and I focused on my food.
“Is that the life you want, Emmy? Chefs. Charity dinners. Money,” he asked when we’d finished our meal.
“Emmeline. And that’s the life I know. Not necessarily the one I want.”
“Okay,” he sighed.
Had I just given him permission to help me find the life I wanted?
Shit.
