Since Naomi was settled with the other women going over plans for the fund-raiser and reviewing details for Jeannie and Jack’s wedding, he felt comfortable being away from her. Worrying about her blood pressure was exhausting.
He plowed through the kitchen, tablet under his arm, Tessie loping alongside. He would hide in the pantry with his work and his dog if he had to. Lord knew, their “cupboard” was as large as his dining room.
Head down, he slammed into—Trystan. “Sorry, man, I didn’t see you.” He gripped Tessie’s collar. “Wait, girl, wait.”
“My bad,” Trystan answered, tucking his cell phone in his pocket. “I was wrapped up in finalizing a date night with Isabeau.”
“A date night? So you two really have something going on, other than work,” Royce said, to make polite conversation, something he was doing more of these days, being a part of Naomi’s world and working for Alaska Oil Barons.
“I hope so.” Trystan rocked back on his boot heels.
“Good luck to you.” And he meant it. Relationships were tough. He had a failed engagement in his past to prove that.
“Thanks, I’m gonna need it. Unlike you, who already has your life all squared away.”
“Uh, yeah.”
Was that how he appeared? Didn’t feel that way. Hopefully, things would get back on track with him and Naomi once they could return to their cabin.
The sound of her laughter drifting down the hall halted that thought short, reminding him how happy she was here, with her family. Here, in the middle of a crowd.
Trystan clamped him on the shoulder. “Are you alright?”
“Sure, I just need to take my dog for a walk.”
“With your tablet?”
Royce looked down. “Right, I was thinking Tessie and I could hang out on the dock, where it’s quiet.”
Trystan backed up a step. “Fair enough. I’ll leave you to it.”
Royce snapped his fingers for his dog to follow, then glanced over his shoulder at Trystan. “How do you handle being here, away from your ranch?”
Trystan rubbed the back of his neck. “I keep track of the days until I’m home again.”
Not a reassuring answer. Nodding, Royce started toward the pantry, only to find teenage Aiden Steele raiding the shelves. “Want something?”
“No, thanks, I’m good.” Shoulders braced, Royce redirected his path, aiming for the doors leading outside. He needed to get his head on straight and hunker down, keeping his priorities in order. Naomi and the babies.
He couldn’t think too much about how what he needed and what she needed seemed to be so different. Could he find peace with her? Could they really get along?
Could he fulfill his calling to save lives with his profession if he didn’t have the space to work?
He did find quiet late at night, watching her sleep, his hand resting on her stomach to feel the babies kick. In those moments he could envision the future, hiking with the kids, taking sleigh rides, viewing the northern lights and teaching them about constellations.
Pushing open the French doors leading to the side yard, he drew in the fresh air. A warm breeze swept in off the water, carrying the sound of a cluster of Steele and Mikkelson men gathered on the dock, casting fishing lines. Their back and forth banter likely scaring away any fish. He pivoted away, eyeing the lengthy garage that held his truck.
Only a few more months until they could all return to the cabin.
* * *
So far, the evening was going exactly as planned. No media. No prying public. Just the two of them plus the faithful Paige at a secluded coastal restaurant, located on their flight route back to Anchorage. His plane and pilot’s license were a must for his pioneer spirit, affording him the opportunity to explore his vast—and sometimes unnavigable—state.
Yes, he was trying to show Isabeau the wonders of Alaska. She lived here, but he was aware this wasn’t home for her.
And he was very aware that with every passing day, the chances increased that she was pregnant. It had been nearly three weeks since their impulsive hookup at his sister’s wedding. As much as he wanted to ask Isabeau, he also knew that the longer the issue was unsettled, the more time he would have to persuade her to give them a chance to see where this attraction could lead.
He’d planned the evening to the last detail. And while he hadn’t called his sister Alayna this time, she had inadvertently given him the idea to come here to Anastasia’s by the Sound, with Russian-style food that they’d enjoyed growing up.
Gold gilded archways, deep walnut wainscoting, cream walls and linens accented with touches of scarlet in the artwork and napkins. The vibe here was elegant, like his dinner companion. Heavy gold candelabras graced each table, the white tapers flickering gently. Anastasia’s pulled no punches on lush, romantic atmosphere and he hoped Isabeau would enjoy it.
They’d dined on smoked salmon, caramelized onion soup, lamb kebobs and coarse black bread. The conversation had been easy between them, carrying them to dessert before he realized two hours had passed. He’d forgone wine, unable to forget the possibility she was pregnant. They drank decaffeinated tea with citrus and vanilla and spices, along with a dessert of apple sharlotka—a mix of tart and cake.
But all the more enticing than any dessert?
Isabeau straightened across from him, the thin shoulder straps of her deep blue gown clinging to her curves. She wore a simple diamond necklace that caught in the muted light. Her pink lips parted in an easy, relaxed smile. Half driving him crazy as he imagined kissing her again, wrapping his arms around her while his fingers destroyed her loose curled updo.
How long had it been since he’d touched her the way he wanted to? Memories from the boathouse taunted him nightly.
Swallowing, he adjusted his body, feeling contained by the suit coat and tie. But it was worth it, if Isabeau was happy.
Her face was blissful as she tipped her ear toward the violinist playing the the famous song
