Paradise Peak (New Americana 5)

Travis thanked Red, ascended the last step to the deck, and approached the table. He hesitated by a chair opposite Hannah, seemed to change his mind, and moved to another place setting.

The door to the lodge opened and Margaret walked out, carrying a pitcher of sweet tea with sliced lemon floating among the ice. “Oh, how wonderful.” She smiled. “You’re already here and I can see you freshened up. Please make yourself at home.”

Well. Looked like Margaret had expanded the definition of home to more than just family; seemed every stranger off the street was part of it, too. Hannah bit her tongue and remained silent.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Travis dipped his head slightly and his gaze settled just to the left of a swan napkin. “I appreciate the supplies and fresh bedding you left at the cabin. Red told me you set things up and I can’t tell you how great a shower and good night’s sleep will feel.”

Margaret beamed. “I’m glad you’re happy with the accommodations, although I do wish I’d had time to do a thorough cleaning. That cabin’s been empty for too long. But I have to say, even with the bare essentials, you’ve cleaned up quite well. A shower and shave, and you look every inch the handsome gentleman I suspected you were underneath that beard.” She rubbed her chin with one hand. “But, if you were so inclined, I’d be happy to trim your—”

“Easy, Margaret.” Smiling, Hannah stood and crossed the deck to the fireplace, carefully leaving a wide berth around Travis. “The man didn’t say one word about wanting a haircut.” She grabbed a dry log from a stack of firewood, tossed it into the small, stone fireplace in the corner of the deck, and stoked the low blaze. “She’s been trying to get her hands on mine for a year.”

Margaret made a small sound of irritation but kept her smile in place. “She exaggerates. But the offer remains all the same.”

Margaret moved to set the pitcher of sweet tea on the table and Travis intervened, lifting the pitcher from her hands and gesturing toward the table.

“Where would you like it?” he asked.

Margaret pointed to the center of the table. “There, please. Thank you.”

“Travis, can I get you a beer?” Red asked as he turned off the fryer. “One’s chillin’ in the fridge with your name on it.”

Hannah returned to her seat and glanced at Travis. Light pink bloomed along his cheekbones. Imagine that. A big, strong man like that actually . . . blushing?

“No, thanks,” Travis said. “I don’t drink.”

Red cocked his head to the side. ?

??Never?”

“No. Never.”

“Well, ain’t that a first.” Red grinned and looked at Margaret. “He doesn’t drive anymore either. Never met a man who doesn’t do at least one of those. Anything else you don’t do that I should be aware of?”

Travis’s cheeks turned even redder as he stared at the empty beer bottles on the table.

“Not all men need alcohol to relax,” Margaret said quietly. “I think it’s an admirable trait.”

Hannah squirmed in her chair, wondering if Red realized his misstep. He hadn’t meant it that way—of course he hadn’t. But Margaret, having lost her daughter, Niki, in a car accident to a drunk driver, would interpret his comments less flippantly.

Red’s grin slowly faded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“To keep us all waiting,” Hannah finished for him. Gracious, the last thing any of them needed were more awkward moments, and as she’d been the cause of most of them today, she was eager to avoid another. “I’m starving.” She reached out, took Margaret’s hand in hers, and squeezed gently. “What about you, Margaret? We haven’t had a decent trout dinner in ages. I bet I can put away at least two times the number of fillets you do.”

After a moment, Margaret squeezed her hand back and smiled at Red. “Yes. Get a move on, Red. You have three very hungry people who demand to be fed. You’re in for a treat, Travis. Red’s fried fish and hush puppies are the finest in east Tennessee.”

Relaxing, Red laughed softly. “Only if they’re coupled with your potato salad.”

“Then Travis is in luck.” Margaret released Hannah’s hand and headed toward the lodge. “I made a fresh batch and will have it on the table in a jiff.”

Travis, Hannah noted, remained silent, his attention following Red’s movements as he collected the empty beer bottles and tossed them in a nearby trash can.

A jiff and ten minutes later, all four of them were seated at the table, had said the blessing and dug into a belly-warming spread of fried trout fillets, hush puppies, potato salad, apple pie, and multiple refills of sweet tea. The flaming logs popped and crackled in the fireplace, ice clinked in glasses, and the sun slowly descended behind the mountain peaks in the distance, prompting the strings of solar lights that Margaret had hung around the deck railings to glow softly around them.

The temperature dipped and the chill in the night air turned brisk as they finished their meal. Red discussed his fishing techniques with Travis, a hint of pride in his voice, and Margaret slipped in a few personal questions that Travis responded to with vague generalizations or sidestepped altogether.

Hannah sneaked glances at him every now and then. He hadn’t said much or looked up from his plate more than three times during the entire meal. His strong hands moved slowly as he reached for his glass of tea and adjusted his napkin in his lap, and twice, he’d met her eyes briefly before refocusing on his plate.

Soon, Margaret served everyone a cup of hot coffee and Red threw another log on the fire. On the way back to his chair, Red paused to lift Margaret’s cardigan from the back of her chair and tucked it around her shoulders. She thanked him quietly as she stirred cream in her coffee.