“Of course not. But I’ve made no secret of the fact I would like to see more of you.” He reached across the space to stroke her shoulder. “Come on, let’s enjoy the rest of the day. We could even turn around and go back, take in another part of the festival, get something to eat.”
“How can you just drop a bombshell like that and then say let’s have a funnel cake?”
“There’s nothing we can do about the past except enjoy the future.” He nudged his Stetson up, sliding his sunglasses in place.
Easier said than done.
“It’s been a full day. If you don’t mind, I would like to get a quiet meal and turn in early. Or maybe you’ve already planned for us to go to the airport?”
“Actually, no. I filed the flight plan for the morning.”
Her back went straight with suspicion. This was too much. Paige nudged Isabeau’s foot from the floorboard of the front seat. “Trystan—”
He raised a hand in defense. “I had to plan it for tomorrow because of weather tonight, which I only learned about when we landed. I was going to tell you at the festival. I have arranged for a hotel suite for us so we don’t have to drive the couple of hours back and forth to the ranch—and yes, the suite has two bedrooms. I’ve also had some clothes sent over for both of us, along with arranging for Paige’s needs, as well.”
Guilt nudged a lot harder than her dog. She melted back into the seat. “I’m sorry if I sound like an ingrate. You’re being very thoughtful.”
“I am not setting you up.” He shot her a pointed look. “But make no mistake, I am working my ass off to impress you.”
She bit her lip hard to keep from telling him the truth—it was working.
* * *
Trystan had learned a lesson at the Juneau festival.
He needed Isabeau—in more ways than one.
She brought a light and sparkle to his world when he saw it through her eyes. His practical, blunt nature tended to miss the beauty in a moment and, yes, the nuances, as well.
He’d been certain he’d set up the perfect day for her, down to an interview that would show her his work ethic. Instead, the reporter had surprised the hell out of him. Not to mention setting back his progress with Isabeau. If he’d included her in the plans, she surely would have arranged that interview to their benefit and had the reporter eating out of the palm of her hand.
Instead, he’d walked them into a media trap.
Tonight, in the five-star, waterside hotel suite, he would have to tread warily. At least she was relaxing in the small, saltwater pool on the screened-in balcony. The waters were warmed. He’d seen her head out in a swimsuit, sexy as hell, even though he would have preferred they enjoy the bubbling waters together, naked.
But he sure wasn’t walking away from this chance to be with her, to get closer.
He’d ordered a light, tapas-style dinner to eat while lounging in recliners in the shallow end—Alaskan crab tacos, fresh tortilla chips and a fruit salsa, trying to keep her health issues in mind. Stepping out on the enclosed balcony, he heard acoustic classics piped in softly through the sound system.
Isabeau glanced over her shoulder, the creamy flesh drawing him closer. “Trystan, hello. Thank you for this restful evening. This is lovely.” She gestured toward the shoreline and mountain view. “No matter how long I’m here, I just can’t get over the beauty of Alaska.”
“I’m glad you’re pleased.” And he owed his sister a huge thanks for her suggestions.
She lifted a taco from the silver platter by the pool, held it over a napkin and took a bite, savoring it. “And this is definitely better than a funnel cake.”
Kneeling beside her, he thumbed the corner of her mouth. “This is most definitely a better way to spend the day with you.”
“I’m wearing a swimsuit.” She raised an eyebrow and took another bite of the taco.
Yes, he knew, but he didn’t see the need to point out he’d been waiting for her. “I fully expected you would. I’m wearing swim trunks, as well.”
“Thank you. Maybe it seems silly given we’ve...” She trailed off, nibbling at the last of her food.
“Not silly at all.” He pulled off the hotel robe and sat on the edge of the other lounger in the shallow end. They were here together. He was making progress with her again.
“It’s only that I think we need to keep things simple until we know where we stand in a few weeks.” She ate the last bite of her crab taco and set aside the napkin on the tiny table.
“Understood.” The thought that she might be carrying his child sent a protective surge through him again. Each time he considered their future, the feeling grew stronger.
“Your eyes don’t say you’re backing off.” She reached for her sparkling water with lemon.
“I hope my eyes say that I hear you.” He forced himself to relax, resting his elbows on his knees. “My mother—Jeannie—taught me to be respectful to women, so I won’t push anything you don’t want. But my father also taught me to pursue what I want.”
“I would love to hear more about him. I only know what’s in the business reports about Charles Mikkelson.”
Trystan saw wariness in her eyes, so he settled on sharing a bit of his past to put her at ease. “My father—my adopted dad—loved competing in the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race. Every year, our family gathered to cheer him on. Even when I was only their cousin, they would invite me.”
Apparently his words were working to soothe her because she turned to face him, dipping her toes into the water. “Have you ever joined the race?”
“I tagged along with him the year before he died. I wish I hadn’t waited so long.” He averted his eyes, looking out at the harbor
