Free Forever in Love by Nadia Lee Page B

seemed to want. But then when he’d overheard her talking about leaving Cooter’s Bluff, he’d felt compelled to come over.
    She probably hadn’t meant she was leaving soon, but what did he know? For reasons he couldn’t figure out, he didn’t want her to just…leave.
    Soon after he rang, the door opened and Catherine peered at him. She looked fresh and young in a thick bathrobe and minimal makeup on her face. Her hair had been dried but not styled. He liked this relaxed, approachable side of her.
    “What are you doing here?” she asked.
    “I was in the neighborhood. Figured I’d stop by.” Thoughts flashed through her unblinking eyes. He hefted the paper bag with a disarming grin. “I come bearing gifts.”
    Her lips curved slightly. “Well, in that case. Come on in.” She moved aside and let him through the door.
    Blaine had never been inside the Blue House before. The townsfolk sometimes gossiped about it. Unlike every other house in town it was owned by a corporation instead of an actual human being, and there was something suspicious about a name that ended in LLC. People wanted first and last names, where the owner was from, how long they’d been around—in generations, not years—and how many branches of the family lived in the surrounding area. They couldn’t even call it
so-and-so’s place
…just
the Blue House
.
    Despite the neighborly middle-class exterior, the interior felt like money. The furniture was solid mahogany and gorgeously crafted, and couches and love seats were made of real leather that you could just tell would feel as soft as warm chocolate. Expensive-looking rugs covered the hardwood flooring, and a few fancy landscape paintings hung on the pastel blue and cream walls.
    “Nice place. Like the art,” Blaine said.
    She wrinkled her nose. “You do?”
    “You don’t like them?” He gestured at the framed oil paintings.
    “They’re…okay.”
    “Huh.” Maybe rich people saw something he didn’t. But if they were just okay, why hang them in the living room?
    “You want some coffee? It’s not as good as what you serve, but I think it’ll do,” she said, pouring a cup.
    “Yes, thanks.” Her coffee wasn’t bad at all, if slightly girly. It was a little milder than the bar’s version, with hints of hazelnut and vanilla.
    “So. What’s in the bag?”
    “Breakfast. Irene’s a meat-and-potatoes woman, I’m sure she stocked the fridge with a bunch of stuff that you wouldn’t normally eat.”
    “Unless you brought yogurt, I doubt there’s anything I can eat in the bag.”
    “Ta-da.” He fished out a cup of yogurt and handed it to her. “But if you wait, I’ll whip up a bowl of fruit salad and some eggs.”
    “I don’t eat eggs.”
    He gave her a look. “Everyone eats eggs.”
    “Too fattening. But thanks for the offer…and the yogurt.” She raised the plastic cup and spooned out the low-fat dairy. “And I’ll take you up on the fruit salad.”
    “Okay then.” He washed and chopped apples, pears, kiwis and strawberries while his eggs cooked. If Catherine had wanted some, he would’ve made a complicated omelet, but since she didn’t he settled for a couple of fried eggs, sunny side up. She offered to help, but he waved her off. There was something very satisfying about making a meal for her, even if it was something as simple as fruit salad. He added a dash of fresh mint to the mix and handed her a small bowl. “Here you go.”
    “Thanks.” As she took it, her wedding ring flashed in the morning sun.
    What kind of a man married a woman like Catherine and then let her go to some small town where she had no friends or family and spend time bartending? Or was she in hiding?
    “When is he joining you?” Blaine asked, trying for a casual tone.
    “Who?”
    “Your husband.”
    The softness in her expression vanished, replaced with something hard and cold, and it immediately reminded Blaine of Ceinlys. Something inside him twisted, and he wished he