Damn.
Drawing in a deep breath, Rachel quickly smoothed her hair and opened the door, determined to maintain a friendly, professional demeanor.
“Hi,” he said, and gave her a rueful smile. “I come bearing gifts—sort of. Consider it a peace offering.”
“Oh?”
Rachel tried to appear indifferent, which was difficult considering how good he looked. He’d managed to pull a pair of dark, loose sweatpants on over his cast, and wore a long-sleeved white T-shirt that hugged the planes of his chest and emphasized the breadth of his shoulders. The words Virgin Islands were printed on the length of one sleeve. That’s when she realized he wore a backpack.
“So, are you going to make me stand out here all night, or can I come in? You know you want to know what I have in here.”
Wordlessly, she stood back and let him in. He made his way to the kitchen and eased the backpack off, setting it on the surface of the island.
“Ah,” he said, seeing the bottle of wine she’d left there. “Great minds think alike—I see we’re on the same wavelength.”
Setting his crutches aside, he eased himself onto a stool. Reaching inside the backpack, he drew out a bottle of red wine, and then a second bottle of white wine, along with two blocks of cheese and a box of crackers.
Rachel stood with her arms crossed. “You brought me wine and cheese.”
“And crackers,” Jamie added with a grin. “Since I haven’t seen you all day, I thought maybe we could have a drink and swap stories about our day.”
Rachel arched an eyebrow. “Okay. I sat on my butt all day and did nothing. You?”
Jamie laughed. “You’re not getting off that easy.” He twisted on his stool and glanced out through the sliding doors that led to the backyard. “I seem to recall your parents had a fire pit. Is it still there?”
“It is.”
“Great. Why don’t we move this party outdoors, and I’ll get a fire going?” Without waiting for her response, Jamie stashed everything, including her bottle of wine, back into his backpack, and stood up. “Grab a couple of glasses, and a plate for the cheese and crackers.”
Without waiting to see if she would do as he asked, he turned and made his way to the sliding doors. Shaking her head, but feeling inexplicably more cheerful, Rachel reached for two wineglasses and a small plate. Following Jamie outside, she set the dishware down on a small table. Unlike Jamie’s backyard, which was dominated by the deck and swimming pool, Rachel’s parents’ yard was a profusion of lush gardens and flower beds bisected by meandering paths.
Closer to the house, there was a sunken, circular bluestone patio with a stone fire pit in the center. Several chairs, including a double-chaise with matching side tables, had been artfully arranged around the pit and an overhead arbor had been strung with delicate fairy lights. The sun had already set, so Rachel flipped the lights on. The fire pit had already been set up for a fire, courtesy of Rachel’s dad, so all Jamie had to do was ignite the fire starters that had been tucked beneath the stacked wood.
“There,” he said in satisfaction, as flames started to lick at the edges of the wood. “That should get going in no time. Do you need a blanket?”
The temperature had dropped with the setting sun, and Rachel realized it was fairly chilly outside. She wore a pair of jeans and a light top, and now she nodded. “Good idea. I’ll just go grab one.”
When she returned just a few minutes later, Jamie had opened the bottle of white wine and had poured them each a glass. Now he reclined on one half of the dual chaise with a pillow beneath his leg. He had the plate of cheese balanced on his thigh as he deftly sliced it into manageable pieces. He looked up as Rachel paused in the doorway to the patio, and patted the cushion next to him.
“C’mon and sit down. Don’t be shy.”
Rachel hesitated. Smart guy that he was, he’d chosen the only chaise that looked out over the shadowed gardens. Her choices were to sit next to Jamie in the twin chaise, or by herself on the far side of the fire. If she didn’t sit with Jamie, she’d look like an uptight prude.
With as much nonchalance as she could manage, she settled herself onto the chaise next to him, and skootched herself back against the cushions. Then, unfolding the blanket she’d brought with her, she shook it out so it covered her legs.
“Do you want to share this with me?” she asked, knowing her tone was anything but gracious.
Jamie either didn’t notice, or didn’t care. “Sure,” he replied, and pulled the extra material across his legs. He set the cheese plate down between them, and retrieved their glasses of wine from the side table, handing one to her.