The Engagement Charade. Karen KirstЧитать онлайн книгу.
her features with disconcerting intensity. Then he stationed himself behind his desk. Ellie took that as an invitation and, stepping inside, closed the door. When she’d placed his meal between a thick sheaf of papers and his pen holder, he said, “You didn’t enjoy the extra sleep?”
“I didn’t say that.” A rueful laugh escaped. Without waiting for his permission, she sat in one of the chairs, tugging her apron down to cover a stain on her gray skirt. “I feel more refreshed today than I have since arriving in Tennessee. For that, I thank you.”
He hesitated, staring at her and then the food. Apparently accepting she wasn’t going anywhere, he sank into the leather chair and started eating without saying grace. She didn’t recall seeing him at church. Was he not a believer? Or had his walk with Christ suffered due to whatever trouble had befallen him?
Since she likely wouldn’t get an answer to those questions, she didn’t bother posing them.
“Flo said the crowd was sparse this morning.”
The café did the most business during the dinner hour. Lunch was brisk, as well, with bachelors making up the majority.
“I’ll have to take your word for it.”
His ongoing disinterest in his own business flummoxed Ellie. He must have wealth independent of this venture, which meant the Plum’s success or failure wouldn’t impact his livelihood. The same couldn’t be said for his employees.
“Have you owned other restaurants?”
“No.”
Perhaps it was his inexperience guiding his inattentiveness? But that didn’t make sense. Alexander struck her as a shrewd man.
“What did you do before this then?”
He was silent for several long beats. A muscle ticked in his square jaw. His focus on his plate, he said quietly, “I owned a ranch in Texas.”
“Texas? You don’t fit the image I have of a rancher.”
Alexander’s gaze collided with hers. “I left that life behind a long time ago.”
The pain he couldn’t quite hide—emotional this time, not physical—underscored her conviction that he needed a friend.
“Do you have family there? Friends?”
His throat working, he laid his fork down. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’d rather not discuss my past.”
She noticed he’d only eaten half the food. Standing, she said, “I didn’t mean to disrupt your meal. It’s just that...”
He arched a brow. “Just what?”
“Well, I—”
His full attention made her self-conscious of her shabby clothing and her unsophisticated hairstyle. She suddenly yearned to be admired by this man, which was wholly impossible and not thoughts an expectant widow should be thinking!
Balancing his elbows on the surface, he steepled his hands. “You may as well speak your mind,” he drawled. “You usually do, eventually.”
“Pardon my bluntness, but you seem very alone. I think you could use a friend. Yet you do nothing to encourage friendships.”
His gaze promptly lowered, thick lashes resting against the hollows beneath his eyes. “It’s the way I prefer to live my life. Less chance of complications.”
“The loneliness doesn’t bother you?”
“A small price to pay for peace.”
His expression didn’t share the conviction of his words. He didn’t seem peaceful in the slightest.
“I know what it is to be lonely,” she admitted. “It wasn’t by choice. Living with my grandparents, I led a full life. We were involved in our church and were friends with most of the neighbors. I didn’t stop to wonder why the Jamesons weren’t part of our circle.” She brushed her fingers over the faded lace edging on the apron that had once belonged to her grandmother. “I was young and naïve. After my grandmother’s passing, I was overwhelmed by everything that needed to be done. The funeral service. The sale of the farm—I wanted to stay but I couldn’t work it by myself. Howard’s offer to buy it seemed like an answer to prayer. His property abutted ours. I’d still be close, you know? And then Nolan proposed...my future went from being scary and uncertain to being assured.”
Lost in memories that stirred sadness and regret, she belatedly registered Alexander’s piercing regard. His thoughts were impossible to decipher.
“The Jamesons restricted your social interactions?”
The inquiry surprised her. It wasn’t his habit to pry. “They did. I resisted at first, but it only angered Nolan and made life uncomfortable. So I adjusted.”
“You shouldn’t have had to.” He pushed the food around on his plate.
“I was compelled to cut off my friendships. No one is requiring you to.” She made an encompassing gesture. “I’m discovering that Gatlinburg is home to plenty of caring folks, but they won’t force themselves on you. You have to invite their company.”
His fork clinked against the plate, and he gave up the pretense of eating. “I’m not sure what gave you the impression that I’m discontent with my current lifestyle. I don’t need anyone, Ellie.”
The resignation with which he spoke, combined with the hint of sadness in his eyes, prompted her response. Why wouldn’t he admit the truth? “You need Flo and Sally. You need me. You need customers.”
His gaze became hooded. “You mistake my meaning.”
“But—”
He stood to his feet like a king expecting immediate obedience. “I believe we’re done here.”
Ellie smoothed her apron. “You’ve been more than kind to me. I simply wanted to offer you...” She swept her hair behind her shoulder and made a dismissive gesture. Why would a man like him value her friendship? “I wanted to express my gratitude for everything you’ve done.”
His chest rose and fell in an exaggerated breath. “I didn’t do anything out of the ordinary.”
“Still, your thoughtfulness means a lot, especially after the past four years.” She clamped her lips shut. He didn’t wish to hear any more about her disappointments. “I’ll, ah, go get started on that rhubarb pie for tonight.”
Alexander didn’t attempt to stop her. Her mood dampened, she left him to his solitude.
* * *
Raised voices coming from the dining room startled Alexander, and his pencil skidded across the page, marring the sketch of a black bear and her cubs. Irritated, he left his office and walked through the short hallway, pausing on the threshold. The tables were full of customers enjoying their evening meal, an unheard-of phenomenon before Ellie. At the moment, they were focused on three people in the corner near the fireplace.
His waitress, Sally Hatcher, wore a cowed expression as a patron, a man taller than Alexander and who likely outweighed him by a hundred pounds, shook his finger in her face. Gauging from the wet stain on his shirtfront and bits of coleslaw scattered on his person, Sally had had a bout of clumsiness. The man’s face was mottled.
How anyone could be angry with the earnest, soft-hearted eighteen-year-old was beyond him. At only an inch or two above five feet and thin as a fence post, Sally was the type of girl who provoked protective feelings in most men.
The man let loose another verbal lash. Sally’s big brown eyes filled with tears. Her head lowering, her wispy, corn-colored hair slid forward to hide her flaming cheeks. With a disgusted sound, Ellie inserted herself between waitress and customer as a living barrier. The sight made Alexander’s throat close up. He felt the crowd’s attention switch to him as he wove through the tables to reach them.
“It