Because of his comment, Cassie could tell he had been thinking about what she’d told him. Why? “You have a good memory.”
“Only when I’m interested.”
He had to mean interested in the conversation, right? He wasn’t even from Austin. He couldn’t be interested in her.
Nash quickly opened the dishwasher and began loading the dishes inside. “I would help my mom with things around the house. I’m sure you did with your mom, too.”
Cassie just nodded but didn’t say anything else.
Nash gave her a sideways look.
Still, she kept silent. Too many memories of her taking care of the cooking and the dishes and everything else, while her mom drank herself into oblivion, played unbidden on her mental screen. Thoughts of her mother were frequent still. Her mother didn’t want to see her or hear from her...not while she was in prison. Every day Cassie hoped that where her mother lived now, she might not have any choice but to find help and detox.
Her thoughts were cut off as Nash straightened and she realized how close they were standing to each other. She passed him a plate. His fingers brushed hers as he took it from her. There was heat...not only in her fingers. And when she looked up into his eyes, there seemed to be sparks there that ignited sparks in her. He was a guest. He’d be leaving at the end of April. She couldn’t even think about sparks...and kissing—
Kissing? Where had that come from?
She turned away from him, picked up a dish towel and began wiping crumbs from the counter into her hand.
Nash asked lightly, “Anything else I can help with?” His deep voice seemed to affect her as much as his touch. But she wasn’t a coward, so she turned to face him. “Nope. Nothing else.”
Their gazes collided again for at least three heartbeats. Then he nodded and went to collect his hat that was still on the sideboard. He carried it with him to the stairway, but then he said to her, “Good night. Sleep well.”
Before she could return the sentiment, he was up the stairs and gone. Had she imagined the chemistry between them?
Feeling as if she’d been caught in a whirlwind, she added detergent to the dishwasher and started it. She just needed a good night’s sleep. That was all. She’d go to bed, close her eyes and forget all about Nash Tremont.
* * *
When Nash returned to the bed-and-breakfast the next day, it was almost lunchtime. He’d taken the morning off from doing research to drive around Austin to check out where the Fortunes’ and Robinsons’ influence could be seen. He’d also gotten a better handle on the city—the neighborhoods and the housing divisions. He had even driven around the college. Midmorning he’d found a leather goods shop and bought himself a pair of black dress boots. He’d also stopped at a men’s store and purchased a sports jacket. That way, if he wanted to give Cassie the impression he was meeting a client, he’d fit the part better.
The part. He didn’t know why it bothered him to play a part with Cassie, but it did.
The front door to the B&B was open and the screen door was allowing the spring air to flow in. As soon as Nash stepped inside, he heard a child’s laughter. He liked kids. His old friend in Oklahoma—the one who had given Cassie a good reference—had three. He’d been to barbecues and Super Bowl parties with some of the guys at work. They had kids, too. Sometimes Nash liked the children even better than the adults.
Following the sound of childish chatter, as well as Cassie’s voice, he crossed the dining area and passed the kitchen to the screened-in porch. There was an easel set up there with a chair in front of it. Cassie was sitting on a second chair beside a little girl who looked to be about eight. The girl’s blond braids swung every time she turned toward Cassie.
Apparently hearing him approach the sliding glass door that was open today, Cassie spotted him peering through the screen. “Hi!” she said. “You’re back.”
Opening the screen and stepping inside the porch, he answered her. “Just for a little while. Then I’ll be going out again. You’re giving an art lesson?”
She motioned him to come farther inside.
He didn’t move. “I don’t want to interrupt.”
“You’re not,” she assured him.
As he crossed to the area where Cassie and the child sat, the little girl turned around to face him. He noticed a child-sized cane propped against the wall. He raised questioning eyes to Cassie.
“Lydia, I want you to meet Nash. He’s one of my guests here. Nash, this is Lydia.”
“Hi, Lydia,” he said easily. “Do you mind if I look at your painting?”
She gave a shy shrug and a smile, so he took that as a yes. Leaning down, he studied the picture of a Ferris wheel that was painted in bright colors and drawn with enough detail that he could see each seat. She’d painted people in the seats and she’d done a fairly good job of it, mostly drawing profiles. He wasn’t sure he could do half as well.
“You have a terrific painting there. Did you ride on a Ferris wheel?” he asked.
This time Lydia grinned. “Mommy and Daddy took me to a carnival. I rode a pony, too.”
“We’re going to save horses for the next art lesson,” Cassie confided. To Nash, she asked, “Have you eaten lunch?”
“Not yet.”
“There are leftovers in the fridge.”
“I’m going out again,” he explained, ad-libbing.
“If you need a snack later, there’s plenty. I didn’t know if the Warners might be coming back for lunch and I wanted to provide something if they did.” She frowned. “I had another cancellation.”
With that declaration, Cassie looked and sounded worried.
Lydia had begun painting again, as if their conversation was of no consequence to her. He asked the little girl, “Do you mind if I sit and watch for a while?”
“I don’t mind,” she said. “I guess you wonder why I’m not in school today.”
“The thought crossed my mind.”
“My teachers had a meeting. Mommy had to work this morning. Cassie said she could give me a lesson, so Mommy’s going to pick me up in a little while.”
“You’re lucky you could do this today.”
“Yes, I am,” Lydia agreed, bobbing her head and making her braids fly again.
Cassie suggested, “If you paint a fence around the Ferris wheel, it will ground it. Anybody looking at the painting will be able to tell the difference from the ground to the tippy top of the Ferris wheel.”
Lydia nodded and went at it. “I’m going to mix two colors of brown for the fence.”
Cassie squirted sienna and burnt umber on the palette. “See if you like those.”
Fascinated by the process—and Cassie—Nash watched for the next half hour. Cassie was so patient with Lydia. Finally, he returned to the subject that seemed to have Cassie worried. He asked in a low voice, “Will it be a problem for you with another guest canceling?”
“I think I can make up the difference this month with the Paint and Sip party...if it’s well attended. I have one coming up at the Mendoza Winery.”
The winery was one of the Austin landmarks he’d noted. “I saw it today when I was driving around Austin.”
He had driven around the Mendoza vineyard with its large acreage of grapevines. He’d discovered the winery had two offices—a small one at the edge of the vineyard and a larger corporate headquarters with its distribution center in Austin proper.