A Temporary Courtship

“You cut up the morels,” Stella interrupted. “I’ll get to work on the marsala.”

“Okay.” She was glad she’d changed topics. Bree knew her way around Stella’s kitchen and grabbed a knife. She got to work slicing the rinsed mushrooms, then moved on to making a salad while Stella finished the chicken.

Her thoughts were tied up, trying to remember what she’d heard about Stella’s granddaughter. Bree recalled there had been some sort of scandal, something her mother had once said, but Bree hadn’t ever paid much attention to the Bay Willows grapevine. Too much fodder to take in.

Footsteps sounded on the wide plank floors, and Bree looked up.

“That smells awe-sssome—” Darren’s voice fell away to nothing when he spotted her and frowned.

“Hello.” Bree gave him a sheepish smile, feeling like she’d been caught with her hands in the cookie jar—knowing about him and Raleigh.

“Hey.”

The wild rabbits that ran around Bay Willows looked less twitchy than this man seeing her here.

“Darren, watch the chicken a minute, would you, while I set the dining room table.” Stella exited fast with an arm load of things from the fridge. She was more than a little obvious in leaving them alone.

Bree’s cheeks flushed red-hot. “I’m sorry. She invited me, too.”

“Nothing to apologize for.” Darren stepped close to the stove and stirred the sauce. He turned down the heat. “I hadn’t planned to stay, and—”

Horrified, Bree blurted, “You’re not going to leave because of me, are you?”

He tipped his head and gave her a cool stare. “What I was going to say is that Stella twisted my arm with the promise of dinner if I fixed the faucet upstairs. Stella’s a good cook.”

“Oh.” Bree relaxed. Sort of. “Sorry.”

“Stop saying you’re sorry.”

“Sorr—I mean, okay.” Then she laughed. “It’s a habit.”

“Saying you’re sorry?” Darren didn’t look amused by that.

“When I’m nervous, yes.” Bree’s stomach dropped again. That was a stupid thing to say, but she was used to apologizing to Philip in order to stop an argument before it started.

Darren chuckled. “You’re nervous?”

Yes. Because you’re way too attractive.

Instead of admitting that, Bree squared her shoulders. “Wrong choice of words, perhaps, but I feel like maybe I’m imposing.”

“Trust me, you’re not.”

Silence settled thick between them until he looked around. “Stella? I think it’s ready.”

“Good. Turn off the heat and put the lid on it.” Stella entered the kitchen and foraged in the fridge once more. “What do you two want to drink?”

“Water’s fine,” Bree said as she ducked out with the salad bowl and set it on the dining room table.

“Same for me.” Darren’s deep voice sounded a little too loud.

“You’re both boring,” Stella chirped as she handed over a pitcher of ice-cold water from the fridge. “Now go sit down. I’ll bring out the chicken.”

Bree remained in the dining room, waiting.

Darren entered and sat down right across from her, leaving the chair at the head of the table for their host. He looked at her.

She looked back.

Be nice to him. Stella’s words roused a nervous laugh Bree choked off before it bubbled out. Darren didn’t look like he wanted nice. Or anything to do with her, for that matter.

Stella set a large covered dish in the middle of the table. Fragrant steam leaked out, teasing Bree’s appetite and stealing her attention.

“Darren, would you mind saying the blessing?” Stella bowed her head.

“Sure.” Darren bowed his, too.

Bree followed suit, curious to hear the man pray.

“Bless us, O Lord, and these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen.”

“Amen,” Stella echoed.

Bree glanced at Darren. Did he truly believe? A rote prayer wasn’t exactly a blazing emblem of faith, but then she wasn’t exactly the pillar of piety, either. Having only come to salvation through Christ recently, Bree had her moments. She was often wrapped up in her own way instead of seeking God’s will for her life. But not when it came to her upcoming residency. That was an opportunity, a gift she wouldn’t squander.

Darren caught her staring at him and raised his eyebrows in question along with a bowl. “Salad?”

“Yes, please.”

“So, Bree, tell us what you’ve been up to. Darren, did you know she plays the cello?” Stella scooped steaming chicken and sauce-drenched pasta onto her plate. “She used to give me lessons when I played the violin.”

Bree smiled. “Say the word and I will again.”

Stella patted her hand. “You’d make a great teacher, my dear.”

She shook her head. “With adults maybe, but I don’t have the patience for kids or beginners.”

Darren gave her a nod. “I overheard her play just before class. She’s good.”

“I’m heading to Seattle at the beginning of June for a two-year residency with a symphony out there. We’ll find out if I’m any good at composing.”

Stella’s eyes widened. “Really? I had no idea. Joan never mentioned anything.”

“She didn’t know. I just found out, too. I landed this opportunity only because the initial person chosen had a family situation and declined.”

“Well, congratulations.” Stella smiled.

Bree smiled back. “I’m excited about it.”