you’ve long since eaten.”
“I wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee. You? I’m sorry, I
should have asked sooner. I didn’t know whether the
kids should be drinking it, so I didn’t offer any.”
“I’d love some.”
She began eating hungrily while he poured coffee
and sat at one end of the long table with her, pushing a
mug toward her. “I’m starved,” she admitted, between
bites.
“Stressful day yesterday.”
“You can say that again.”
“This Knowledge Champs. Did your students win?”
“We actually have two teams. The A team did pretty
well. They won one round and tied another. The B team
got creamed. Partly because Amy and Hopper were too
busy flirting to pay attention.”
“Ah.” His mouth relaxed into something approach44
ing a smile. “Amy being the one constantly fiddling
with her hair.”
“I swear, I’m going to make her put it in a ponytail
before the next competition.”
Fiona finished her toast and considered the muffins.
“Applesauce or blueberry.”
“You made them yourself?”
“Yes.”
How like him. A succinct answer, no desire to expand the way most people would, admitting that they’d always liked to cook or hadn’t liked to cook but found
they were good at it, no, The recipe is my mother’s.
So, how to learn something about him? Are you
married? seemed too bald.
“Do you have kids?” she asked.
“No.”
Argh.
“Me, either,” she said. “Someday.”
He nodded, although whether concurring or simply
acknowledging what she’d said, Fiona couldn’t guess.
“Do you usually have guests year-round?”
“Generally just weekends in the winter.”
“Don’t you get lonely?”
Again she thought she saw amusement, as much in
a momentary narrowing of his eyes as on his mouth. Did
he know perfectly well what she was getting at?
“No.” After a moment, he added, “I prefer the solitude.”
Fiona hid her face behind the mug and took a sip of
coffee. “Then I’m doubly sorry,” she said, setting it down,
“that we’ve had to impose ourselves on you.” She tilted
her head. “I hear some of the kids coming right now.”
He rose, lines appearing between his brows. “I
shouldn’t have said that.”
She looked at him. “Is it the truth?”
Very stiffly, he said, “I served in Iraq. When I got
back…”
Behind him, Dieter and Troy wrestled to determine
who would get through the doorway first. “Food,”
Dieter moaned. “Let me at the food.”
When she looked again at John Fallon, it was to see
that he had once again wiped his face clean of expression. Whatever he’d been going to say—and, from what she’d read about the problems of returning veterans, she
could guess—would remain unspoken unless she
wrenched it out of him.
Darn it, did the boys have to show up, just when the
conversation was getting interesting?
CHAPTER THREE
WILLOW AND ERIN came into the kitchen right behind
the boys, Willow with wet hair slicked to her head. If
Erin had bathed, she’d somehow kept hers dry.
John took orders for eggs and disappeared into the
pantry.
“Can we go outside after breakfast?” Dieter asked.
“Have you looked out the window?”
“Yeah, it’s still snowing. Major cool!”
“Do you know how easily you could get lost out there?”
“Come on,” he coaxed. “We’d stay right by the lodge.”
“Clothes are another problem. We can’t keep asking
Mr. Fallon to wash them so we can go out and play.”
His face fell. “Oh. Wow. I wish I had my ski stuff.”
Personally Fiona would settle for a couple of pairs
of clean underwear.
“We’ll see,” she said. “I’m going to offer to do the
laundry this morning. Maybe we could do a load of wet
stuff later.”
They cheered just as John return from the pantry
with a big bowl.
“They want to go outside,” she explained to him.
“I’m concerned about our limited changes of clothes.”