“Really? I’ve never played, but I just might give it a try.”
“Meet me here on Wednesday at six, and we can go together.”
Alexis smiled. “Sounds good—”
“What sounds good?” Cord asked, approaching the table.
Ana’s gaze moved from Cord to Alexis. “I’ll stop back to get your order.”
After Ana moved on, Alexis turned to her lunch date—erm, her, uh…to Cord. “She was just telling me a little about Whistle Stop and what there is to do around here.”
He hung his hat on a post at the end of the booth, combed his fingers through his unruly hair, and slid into the seat. “You made friends with Ana already?”
“Would there be a problem if I had?”
“Not at all. I just didn’t think you’d be making friends since you’ll be leaving town soon.”
His comment struck her as odd. What exactly was he saying? Was he trying to usher her out of his life? The thought saddened her. Surely she hadn’t understood him correctly. “But you and I are friends, aren’t we?”
His gaze met hers. “I don’t know what we are.” He fidgeted with the menu. “It’s complicated.”
She couldn’t argue. When it came to Cord, there were no easy answers. Perhaps they were better off not trying to define their relationship.
Thinking Ana looked to be about Cord’s age, Alexis asked, “How well do you know Ana?”
His brows rose. “We were in the same grade in school. She was always nice to me.”
Always nice to him…Definitely not a normal thing to say about a friend. Was he implying that other kids weren’t so nice? One by one, pieces of Cord’s life started to fall into place. She’d bet he’d learned at an early age to keep to himself. And the ranch probably provided a buffer between him and the rest of the world. Her heart went out to him.
When she found herself staring into his eyes for much too long, she turned away. Her gaze stumbled across something on the floor. “What’s that? A penny?”
He glanced down at the floor. “Yep.”
“Aren’t you going to pick it up?”
“Nope. Don’t need a dirty old penny.”
She hustled out of the booth and picked up the coin. “Find a penny, pick it up. All day long, you’ll have good luck.”
He chuckled. “You sound like a little kid.”
Heat warmed her cheeks. “Maybe, but guess who’s going to have a good day and who isn’t?”
“We’ll see about that.” He pulled a folded document from his back pocket. He laid it on the table and smoothed the creases with his palm. “I just picked this up at the Realtor’s office, and it needs your signature.”
“Dare I ask what it is
?”
“It’s an intent-to-purchase form, giving the bank holding my mortgage proof of your interest in buying the couple hundred acres.”
“I see.”
So that’s where he’d gone. He was doing everything in his power to save his home—except accepting that the resort was the answer to all of his problems.
He slid the letter and a pen across the table. “It just needs your signature.”
“And if I don’t sign it?”