“Here.” He held a pair of nail scissors out to her.
“Thanks.” She went to the bathroom door and saw that Jack had put white lather on his face. She leaned against the door as she prepared to trim away the stitching on his pant leg. But she didn’t snip. Instead, she watched him.
He glanced at her in the mirror. “You look like you’ve never seen a man shave before.”
“Just on film.”
He halted, razor in hand. “No boyfriends?”
“Lots of them, but I didn’t live with them.”
“Mommy said no?”
“Kate said no.”
Grinning, he kept shaving. “So what did you tell old man Stewart last night?”
“That I’m still considering his offer to elope.”
“That’s a joke, right?”
“Only on my part. He did make an offer. If you stop being a very hairy Mean Girl, I’ll tell you what I learned.”
“Think I should wax?” He ran his hand over his chest. “A lot of guys do now.”
She ignored his question. “Tayla told Alastair about the house you gave me to sell and he bought it.”
Jack rinsed his razor. “You didn’t get to show him the house? Didn’t get your ta-da moment?”
She ducked her head down to hide her smile at his perception, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. Besides, she was rather enjoying looking at the back of him. Muscles under tanned skin...
“Do you know Dan Bruebaker?”
“He’s more my mother’s generation than mine. And Stewart’s.”
“Stop being a jerk.”
“I will try,” he said solemnly as he dried his face. “No, I don’t really know the guy. He makes high-end wrought-iron fences. Good quality and expensive, but I’ve never needed to use his work. Which aftershave should I use?” He opened a medicine cabinet to show four brands lined up.
Kate stepped into the bathroom, opened them one by one and smelled them. “Alastair said that in high school Dan was obsessed with Cheryl. Bragged about what he was going to do to her. Sexual things.” She handed him a bottle. “This one.”
“Good choice. Guaranteed to drive women wild. Did you meet Dan?”
“No. He went after us on the day I arrived and Alastair nearly ran from him.” Kate went into the bedroom, sat on the end of the bed and began taking out the inside seam on the trousers.
“Interesting. What else?” When Kate hesitated, he said, “Go on. Out with it.”
“Ever since I got here, I’ve heard what a snob the Stewart family was, but Mrs. Stewart attended Henry Lowell’s funeral.”
“And he was just a building contractor.”
“I didn’t mean anything disparaging.”
“Didn’t think you did.”
“Alastair said your father did a lot of work for her, and charged her too little, but still...”
Jack stepped into the room, hobbled over to a table by the window, picked up a framed picture and handed it to her. It was a black-and-white photo of three beautiful young men: tall, muscular, radiating good health. It was a candid shot. They had their arms around each other and were laughing. The one on the right was obviously Cal. He was a clone of Jack. The middle one looked enough like Alastair that he must’ve been his father—but he was better-looking than his son. There was something round and open and friendly about his features that Alastair didn’t have.
