“They were great together.”
“Yeah,” Gabe said. “We did all right as a family, all considered. It was tough losing my mother. I can see her out here yelling at Mark and me to leave a bees’ nest alone.”
Felicity laughed softly. “I bet it wasn’t you boys she was worried about.”
“Oh, definitely it was the bees. What about your family? You still all get along well?”
“We do. My parents are enjoying retirement and being grandparents. I thought they might move to a warm climate full-time, but they’d miss the kids.”
“Would they miss Knights Bridge?”
“They would, but it was never home the way it is for the Frosts and the Sloans.”
“And the way it was for my grandfather,” Gabe said. “Mark and I never hated it here. We just wanted out, a chance to do something with our lives that we felt we couldn’t do in Knights Bridge.”
“You didn’t see a life here for yourselves. Mark does now, obviously.” Felicity narrowed her eyes. “And you never will.”
He pointed at her. “We’re talking about you.”
“I like being back here. It’s not as expensive as Boston, for one thing. Anyway, I need to pack up for the party.” She started to her feet. “Take a nap if you’d like.”
“I can help.”
“Great. You can carry the badgers.”
“Well, why not?”
Gabe swung to his feet, reenergized as he followed Felicity inside. The badger box wasn’t heavy, but it was awkward to carry and fit into the back of Felicity’s Land Rover. She’d have managed on her own. He had no doubts about that, but it had to be easier with his help—not that she’d ever admit it. She told him as much when she handed him another box.
He made no comment. It wasn’t just that she was independent and self-reliant—traits he admired. She was also stubborn, defensive and determined not to show any weakness—at least to him. He noticed it more than he had last weekend, or she was more that way now after having had a few days to consider what had gone on between them. Gabe found himself wanting to break down her reserve—penetrate the protective shell she’d put up around her—and get her to be herself around him, without reservation, without fear that he might criticize or lecture her. He didn’t want her hiding behind her defenses. He wanted her to feel free to tell him anything, not just here and there but all the time.
He needed to tell her that, he decided. But not now, when she was on the job.
“I’m not having dinner,” she said as they went inside. “I’ll sneak a few hors d’oeuvres tonight. There’s stuff in the fridge if you’re hungry.”
“I’m still working off that chocolate cream pie. I can wait until the party.”
She glanced at her phone and then looked up. “We still have some time. Want to take a quick walk?”
It struck Gabe as an excellent idea. “Smarter than taking a nap,” he said.
“Napping isn’t the best way to burn off pie.”
He hadn’t necessarily been thinking about napping. Something in his expression must have given him away because Felicity turned red and bolted down the hall, muttering something about changing her shoes. Probably didn’t think he’d noticed her outsize reaction, but he had. And it was good. In fact, it was very good. He preferred to have her thinking about whiling away a few hours in bed with him instead of reading a book on the deck while he took a nap.
Maybe that explained her defenses. Maybe it wasn’t about stirring up their past. Maybe it was about stirring up their ideas about the future. There’d always been a certain amount of sexual tension between them, but, except for that one night as teenagers, it had never dominated their relationship. It’d never been the one thing they’d thought of. Their friendship had taken precedence. They’d accepted without question they weren’t right for each other as romantic partners and hadn’t wanted to impede each other in that department.
What if some guy picked her up tonight for the party? Met her at the library?
Gabe put the thought out of his mind. He wasn’t one for wasting time ruminating about something he couldn’t control or influence, particularly when it was something that likely wouldn’t happen. Every vibe he got from Felicity told him she didn’t have a man in her life. He hadn’t gone so far as to ask his brother, but Mark would have said something by now, if only to keep his younger brother from messing up her romantic life with his presence.
Gabe went to his room and dug a pair of trail shoes out of his bag.
Five minutes later, he and Felicity were walking along the river in a comfortable but pointed silence. They paused on the covered bridge and leaned against the rail, looking down at the water. “I often come out here to think,” she said. “Something about the sounds of the water and the walking itself anchors my mind. I don’t necessarily stew on a problem, but when I get back home, I often have a breakthrough. Things sorted themselves out while I was looking at ferns or listening to chickadees. If I stayed at my desk and tried to force a solution, everything would just dam up and I wouldn’t get anything done.”
“Have to know when not to force something, I guess,” Gabe said.
“True. Sometimes I need to muscle through a problem, and coming out here would be a form of resistance.”
“Where does this walk fit?”
She squinted up at him. “It’s purely social.”
“Not chewing on a problem?”
“I’m relaxing and enjoying the company of an old friend. How’s that?”
“Did you think up that line just now, or was it simmering while we were walking?”
She smiled knowingly. “I had a feeling you’d ask. You’re in that mood.”
“What mood is that?”
“The ‘ask Felicity questions’ mood.” She turned around, leaning back against the rail. “I remember walking out here when I was a senior in high school, and
