One Winter's Sunset. Rebecca Winters

      He dropped his hand and met her gaze. “They were just ties, Emily. I didn’t really care.”

      “I know,” she said. She was trying to hold on to the moment, but knew it was a butterfly, fleeting, impossible to catch. Eventually, Cole would go back to work, and she’d be on her own again. A single mom. Better to end it now than to prolong the inevitable. Emily returned to the vegetables. “Let’s, uh, get this pie made before Carol comes home.”

      If he sensed the change in her, he didn’t say anything. He helped her finish chopping the vegetables and cooked chicken, then lifted the heavy food processor onto the counter and helped her assemble the ingredients for the piecrust. “Okay. Here goes nothing,” Cole said, pushing the pulse button. Several pulses later, the flour and butter and ice water had coalesced into a crust. “Voilà!” Cole said, lifting off the plastic lid. “Piecrust.”

      “I am impressed,” she said. “What are you doing for your next trick, Superman?”

      He grinned. “That you will have to wait to see, Mrs. Watson.”

      She shook her head and dipped her gaze before he saw the tears that had rushed to her eyes. “Don’t call me that, Cole. Please.”

      “Emily, Emily,” he said, tipping her chin until she was looking at him. “We cleaned up the mess with the ties. Why do you have such little faith that we can clean up the mess with our marriage?”

       CHAPTER NINE

      THE FOUR OF them sat around the long dining room table, helping themselves to big slices of chicken potpie and generous bowls of tossed salad. Carol had brought home a loaf of bread from the bakery in town, which served as the perfect complement to the meal. Cole sat beside Joe, across from Emily and Carol in a warm and cozy room filled with great scents, great food and great people.

      This, he thought, this is what home feels like.

      Was that what he and Emily had missed? Had they been so fixated on getting from A to B that they had missed that critical step of building a home, not just a house?

      Or rather, had he? Emily had asked him to be home more often, and he’d promised over and over to do that, only to spend his time at work instead. Then they’d built that house on the hill, and despite the fact that it had a table in the kitchen, a handcrafted one in the dining room and another outdoor eating space, they rarely ate together. Most nights, she had been asleep before he got home, and then he was gone again before she was awake.

      “Great job, Emily.” Carol gestured toward the chicken potpie. “Maybe I should hire you on as a chef.”

      Emily laughed. Cole liked it when she laughed, because her face and eyes lit up, and the whole room felt lighter. “I am far from being a chef. Cole’s the one who mastered the piecrust. I just read the directions.”

      “You did more than that, Emily,” Cole said. “You taught me how to chop an onion, too.”

      She dipped her head, a flush shading her cheeks. “I just told you it didn’t have to be all perfect.”

      Joe looked from Cole to Emily and back again. “You got this guy to loosen the reins a little? What’d you do, drug him?”

      “Hey, I’m not that bad,” Cole said.

      “Right. You are the only man I know who had a typewritten itinerary for your own bachelor party.” Joe chuckled.

      Cole scowled. “I like to be organized. So sue me.”

      Joe leaned toward Emily with a conspiratorial grin. He cupped his hand around his mouth, mocking a whisper. “If you want to drive Cole crazy, just hide his lists and his planners.”

      “First I’d have to pry his smartphone out of his hands,” Emily said, laughter in her voice. “And that’s almost impossible.”

      Cole unclipped the phone and slid it across the table toward Emily. “Hey, I can disconnect the umbilical.”

      Joe scoffed. “That’s not a challenge. It’s already after five.”

      The cell phone sat on the table, one of the things that had built his company to its current position at the top, but also one of the things that had dragged his marriage to the bottom. That was one of the hazards of always being available—it was good for business, but bad for a relationship.

      Emily glanced at his phone, then slid it back. “I don’t need it. I’m just glad you’re getting some time away from the office here.”

      “Are you glad I’m here?” he asked, his gaze meeting hers.

      A small, bittersweet smile crossed her lips. “Of course. You work so hard, I was always worried you’d have a heart attack. You need some time to destress.”

      That wasn’t what Cole had hoped Emily would say. He’d wanted her to say she was glad he was here with her, finally trying to work on their marriage again.

      “And in the process,” Emily added, “maybe you can get back to what’s important.”

      The last few words had him trying to read Em’s face, but her gaze was on her plate, keeping whatever secrets she had hidden behind her wide green eyes.

      “That’s what this inn was always about. Helping people get in touch with their lives, themselves,” Carol said. “And what I’d like to do more of if I end up keeping it. I think it’d make a great retreat for corporate types who want to get out from behind the desk.”

      “You could make it a win-win,” Joe said with a grin. “Give them some hammers and nails or some paint and a paintbrush and put them to work on that project list that Cole drew up. You’ll get the stuff done around here, and they’ll get to do something other than sit around an office all day. Plus, Cole would get to check things off on one of his lists, and we all know how happy that makes him.”

      Cole laughed. Damn, it was good to have Joe here. His friend kept him grounded, real. “Joe, only you would make people work on vacation.”

      Emily dished up some more salad and grabbed another slice of bread. “Says the man who hasn’t taken a vacation in years.”

      “True.” Cole gave her a nod, then leaned in with a grin. “Maybe you should have kidnapped me and whisked me away to an undisclosed location. Out of network range, of course.”

      A mischievous glint shone in her eyes. “That might have been fun.”

      “Just for the record, if you ever get the urge to do something like that, I’m game.” It seemed as if the room had closed to just the two of them. He held her gaze, and his heart skipped a beat. “But you might want to take my phone first.”

      “If I get that thing in my hands, I’ll end up smashing it with a sledgehammer,” Emily said with a teasing smile. “It’s needier than a three-year-old.”

      As if on cue, the smartphone began to ring and the caller ID screen lit. Doug, probably calling about another problem with the new product launch. Cole reached forward, pressed the button on the side of the phone, sent the call to voice mail and darkened the screen. The action sent a flicker of anxiety through him, but he pushed it aside. Emily was right. He’d spent far too much time letting work interrupt dinners, and the last thing he wanted was an interruption in this one, when things seemed to be going so well, almost like the old days.

      “That’s a good start,” Emily said, and gave him a smile that he wanted to hold in his heart. “Thank you, Cole.”

      The dinner ended too soon. Carol began to pick up the dishes and put out a hand to stop Cole and Emily when they rose to help her. “You two go off on a walk or something. Joe and I can get these.”

      “Are you sure?” Emily asked. “You already do so much.”

      “That’s my job.