“Are you too cold?” Dan asked, noting the gesture.
She shook her head. “No. It’s nice out, isn’t it?”
“Very. Will you walk with me for a little while?”
Thinking of the list of things she had to do before bedtime, she hesitated only a moment before shrugging lightly. “I can take a few more minutes.”
He looked pleased when he motioned toward the garden path.
Despite the nip in the air, it really was a pleasant evening for a walk. The moon was almost full, glowing softly in the darkening sky. Stars blinked into sight around it. Having spent a fair amount of time in bigger cities, Kinley appreciated being able to see stars here on the mountain. The lighting in the gardens was muted, illuminating the pathways but not so bright as to be intrusive. She and her siblings had put a lot of discussion into the balance between safety and aesthetics, and she hoped they’d reached a satisfactory compromise.
She walked often in the gardens at night, enjoying the sounds of frogs and insects and the occasional hoot of an owl from the woods, underscored by the steady, musical splashing of the central fountain. Bonnie had wanted to install wind chimes, but Logan had vehemently vetoed that request. He hated wind chimes. It was not at all uncommon to cross paths with several guests of the inn enjoying a nighttime stroll, but no one else seemed to be out at the moment, giving a sense of privacy to her walk with Dan. Light spilled from the windows of the inn, both upstairs and down, but few sounds escaped into the quiet night.
Dan kept his voice low, perhaps to avoid disturbing the peaceful ambiance. “Do you ever host nighttime weddings here?”
“Oh, yes, especially in the fall when it starts getting darker earlier but it’s still warm enough for comfort. We string fairy lights and use torches and lanterns for illumination. A couple of my favorite weddings here have been after dark.”
“Whose idea was it to focus on weddings? The inn was more of a vacation retreat when your great-aunt and great-uncle ran it, wasn’t it?”
“It was, though even then quite a few weddings were held here. It was actually my idea to coordinate with other local businesses and specialize in turnkey wedding services,” she admitted. “I met with several local florists and caterers and wedding planners and arranged for a couple of magistrates to be on tap if the couples didn’t have a specific officiate in mind. Together we came up with the various packages we offer. So far, it’s worked out quite well.”
“It’s got to be a challenge coordinating with all those subcontractors.”
She nodded. “As I’ve mentioned, I enjoy a challenge. And I’m very careful about who I do business with.”
He murmured something that sounded like, “No surprise.” Maybe he was getting to know her a bit. And maybe, she thought with a slight wince, that would make him less likely to keep flirting with her.
He wouldn’t be the first man turned away by what they perceived as her overly controlling nature. She acknowledged that she liked things to be just so, that she thought it her duty to make sure her clients got the best service she could provide for them, that she didn’t like being seen as less than competent and efficient—but she hoped secretly that she wasn’t quite as pushy and bossy as Eva Sossaman. Like the discussions about safety and beauty with the lighting, she was aware that
balance made all the difference.
“Do you have plans for tomorrow?” she asked politely.
“Just hanging out. Checking out the scenery. Taking a few pictures. I could pretty much complete the article tonight, except for the photos from the wedding Saturday.”
Was that just the faintest hint of ennui she heard in his voice? Was he somewhat bored by the prospect of writing another fluffy travel profile?
“How long have you been writing for the magazine?” she asked. She knew he was the one who was supposed to be asking the questions, but she was growing increasingly curious about him.
“A little over two years now. Writing for the magazine has given me a chance to travel all over the South, in addition to pursuing some independent projects. I’ve enjoyed it.”
She was pretty sure she heard more than a hint of past tense in that phrasing. Perhaps he was considering a career change soon. Perhaps that book he’d mentioned to Bonnie. “You said you attended the University of Alabama. Did you major in history?”
“No, journalism. History was my minor.”
“Have you been writing since?”
“For the most part. I did a four-year hitch in the marines, worked as a foreign correspondent for a couple years in the Middle East, spent some time in London and New York, then let my cousin talk me into working for her. Her magazine was in a state of transition and she thought I could help out. It’s worked out pretty well for both of us so far.”
Except for the latter part, everything he’d just told her was a complete surprise to her. “You were a marine?”
He nodded, speaking self-deprecatingly. “I spent a lot of time sitting at a desk writing communiques and press releases from Riyadh. I saw more action as an AP correspondent than I did in the service.”
Kinley’s mental image of Dan had undergone so many changes that day that she felt a little dizzy now. Expecting a bow-tied older fellow, she’d been startled enough to see a good-looking man in his early thirties with longish hair and a killer smile. Then she’d decided he was a bit of a slacker, a compulsive flirt who seemed to have his job because of his family connections. Now there was this new information that didn’t align with any of her preconceptions. Just who was he, anyway?
“You’ve had a lot of jobs,” she said somewhat lamely.
“I guess you could say I have a short attention span,” he remarked, which made her swallow hard. If she’d needed more evidence that she shouldn’t take his flirting too seriously, he’d just offered it to her.