Page 48 of First Bride to Fall
Maybe someday soon, she’d also be lighting up his.
She smiled, imagining them on a fabulous camping trip somewhere. Just the two of them alone together. She had no idea that Grant had hiked and camped outside the United States. That knowledge only made him more interesting. It was thrilling that he seemed to find her interesting, too, even though her hobbies were fairly boring compared to his: basically just knitting, Scrabble, and reading.
At least they shared their Scrabble fixation. Playing with him had been super fun, especially playing in person where she could watch his changeable expressions. His furrowed brow and the look of concentration on his face when he was anticipating his next move, or the sneaky gleam in his eyes when he was about to play a high-scoring word. She’d loved being party to all of it. But most of all, she adored hearing him laugh. They’d had a great time together, and more than once, Grant seemed momentarily struck by the fact, judging by his expression.
“Hungry?” he asked her from where he stood in the kitchen. He’d been washing out their tea mugs and putting them away.
Her stomach rumbled. “A little.”
“How about I make us dinner?”
“Can I do anything to help?”
“No, it’s pretty basic. Just some French fries and fried fish.”
“Fish and chips?” She grinned. “Sounds yum.”
“You like trout?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever eaten it.”
“You’re in for a real experience, then.”
“Oh.” She had no idea what he meant by that, but she was willing to go along with the menu. He was cooking for her, after all. “Good.”
“Why don’t you relax on the sofa and check out some of those magazines? Or, better yet, work on that knitting project of yours? That hat looks almost done.” His dark eyes shimmered, and her heart gave a lovesick leap.
“Yeah, it is,” she said, lost in his dreamy gaze.
She couldn’t wait to give it to him.
Chapter Ten
Nell casually flipped through some of the magazines, but she was more interested in the catalogues she found for equipment and clothing than in the long, boring, exceedingly jargony articles about taking a pilgrimage called “Camino de Santiago” across the Pyrenees mountains from France into Spain, or scuba diving along the Great Barrier Reef in Australia. Those excursions were fine if you didn’t mind developing calluses on your feet from walking nonstop for two weeks or risking your life by swimming in shark-infested waters.
Other pieces profiled domestic adventures, many at National Parks, and yeah. There was a fair share of camping. Along with climbing, kayaking, and other things, too. Her mind wandered back to that photo of Grant’s ex in that tiny bikini, and she frowned. Not that she was jealous or anything. The woman wasn’t even in the picture anymore. Except, she was probably implanted in Grant’s memory. Like a sneaky little seed from his past that might decide to bloom at some inappropriate moment. That could be a problem if he started making comparisons between her and Ms. Mountain-climbing Woman.
Nell told herself to buck up and stop thinking negatively. She was the one here with Grant. Not old what’s-her-name. She thumbed through a merchandise circular, picking out several outfits that she liked and that fit her figure. Many also went with her knits. Nice! She spotted a flannel shirt called a Boyfriend Borrow, marketed to women. It looked like a man’s button-down shirt with cuffs and a collar, and it had a fun plaid pattern on it in blues, purples, and greens. Although she generally wore more frilly tops, something like this was a better call for a rugged outdoor adventure. It would also go with her coloring.
Ooh! She could get some of those cool duck boots, too, along with a green down jacket.
She was tempted to order it all for her proposed camping trip with Grant.
With my sisters?
Uh, no.
What was he thinking?
That would be like having two nosy chaperones along. That would also be in summertime, since that’s what she’d told him. So flannel was out. Or maybe it could work for chilly evenings and mornings? But seriously. What was the point? The entire camping trip was fiction, and they wouldn’t be going anyway. Not in a group, if she could help it.
If Nell went camping with Grant, she’d want him all to herself.
Ooh, that double sleeping bag looks cozy.
“Find your tent?” he asked from the kitchen. He stood at the counter, coating fish in a flour mixture. He had his sweater sleeves pushed up and appeared in his element. A frying pan sat on the stove, and the French fries baked in the oven, their fast-food scent filling the air.
“Not yet.” She gave him an apologetic shrug. “Without Misty’s keen eye, a lot of them kind of look the same.”
