Free What a Bride Wants by Kelly Hunter Page A

tell him I was here,” Sawyer said when she hung up.
    “ Wouldn’t want to worry him unnecessarily.”
    “ Ella.” There was a warning in there somewhere.
    “ You need to let people make their own mistakes,” she told him firmly. “Living room fire, do you think?”
    Maybe he did need to let people make their own mistakes.
    Ella shot him a quick smile and headed for the kitchen. Sawyer headed for the living room and lit the fire. Five minutes later he found her standing in front of the wine rack in the kitchen, looking thoroughly undecided.
    “ This is getting ridiculous,” she said. “There’s more wine in the cellar, but if I go down there I could take hours. First I’m wardrobe challenged and now the wine.”
    “ Maybe you’re simply tired and in need of a little rest and relaxation.” Maybe he should leave his confessions for another time.
    Yeah, no.
    He reached around her, pulled a Shiraz cabernet from the rack and tucked it in her hand. “This one. Not too old, not too new, good body and smooth as silk going down.”
    “ Thank you, bartender. I appreciate it.”
    He opened the bottle and poured into the two large wine glasses sitting on the bench beside a still frozen loaf of crusty bread.
    “Beef casserole’s in the oven.”
    “ Great. It’ll go with the wine.”
    They returned to the living room. Ella lit the candelabra - one set on either side of that enormous window, another set on a side table beside the doorway through to the hall.
    “ In case of a power outage?” he asked as he sat on the bank of lounge chairs that ran the length of the room. Enough room for eight people to sit comfortably. As for seating two…
    “ Not really in case of power outage.” Ella settled in beside him, wine glass I hand. “We’ve a generator and plenty of flashlights. A lot of the time we light the candles because people like the atmosphere.”
    “ Of yesteryear?”
    “ Yeah.”
    “ Feels like church.”
    An other quick grin split her firelit face. “Cozy confessional. You wanted to tell me something but we were interrupted and waylaid.”
    Sawyer hesitated.
    “Or we could just talk about regular things. Like how long you plan to stay in Marietta?”
    An easy question.
    Until he factored in her.
    “I have another three week’s work at the saloon before Reese’s regular bartender returns.”
    “ You’re better at bartending than Josh is.”
    “ I don’t want his job.”
    She gave him a measured look . “Where will you go after that?”
    “ Washington State.” And at her enquiring look, “I have a house there.”
    “ You have a house?”
    “ Bought and paid for. I’ve lived there exactly three weeks out of the past fifty-two. It’s not really working out.”
    “ Why not?”
    “ I thought I wanted it. But.” There was always a but . “It’s a little out of the way. It sits on a cliff overlooking the Pacific, just outside a sleepy little seaside town.”
    “ I guess parts of that equation might fit with what I know of you,” she offered dubiously. “I’m liking the view I’ve got going in my imagination.”
    “ It does have good views. Nothing quite as spectacular as your views, but the ocean has its own charm.”
    “ Do you surf and swim?”
    “ Yes.”
    “ It’s starting to make a little more sense.”
    “ There’s a really good wood-fired-oven pizza place in the town,” he offered. “Little hole in the wall operation. In the mornings they do six different types of bagels.”
    “ Now you’re talking.”
    They lapsed into silence.
    Now, he thought. Tell her now.
    But he sipped at his wine and stared into the fire instead.
    “What kind of work will you do there?” she finally said.
    “ The lower floor is set up as a business hub, with a formal meeting room, high-speed communications, records room, and plenty of workspace. The idea was – is – to use it as a base and get more strategic when it comes to the company restructuring jobs I take. Get in, get out, finish up