Page 48
“You can park across the street. There.”
They made their way from the parking lot toward The Lakehouse, aptly named for its position on the shore of the third largest man-made lake in Pennsylvania. As they made their approach on foot, she could see the restaurant’s back deck, a glowing beacon with white fairy lights strung from every corner. As they came around the side of the building, torches and heaters cast a soft glow on diners lucky enough to nab a lake view. There were only four tables on the very edge of the deck. The bulk of the seating was inside.
“When we were here last time, I asked our waitress why the deck hadn’t been rebuilt. You’d think more people would want that view.”
When they arrived at the hostess stand just outside the restaurant, Kenton gave the woman his name.
“What did she say?”
“That building codes prevented them from building a new one. And they were happy to be only one of two restaurants located directly on the lake. Apparently no one else has been allowed to build on it since the 1950s.”
“Right this way,” the hostess said.
She led them out onto the deck, guiding them past a handful of diners. To Alessandra’s surprise, she seated them at an empty table right along the edge of the deck. And it wasn’t just any table; it was the only one with a completely unobstructed view of the lake beyond them.
“How lucky is this?” she said, sitting.
Kenton didn’t answer.
“Can you believe this view?”
Boats with their lights on dotted the otherwise dark abyss beyond.
“I do.”
But he wasn’t staring out at the lake or marveling at how dark it was beyond the dock. He was looking at her with a sharp-eyed intensity that made her shiver.
“I should have told you we’d be sitting outside,” he said.
She’d worn long sleeves and wasn’t cold at all. But Alessandra refrained from telling him that small fact. She didn’t need to give him more power over her.
“I’m fine,” she lied.
“Welcome to The Lakehouse.” A waitress appeared out of nowhere. “Have you been here before?”
“Yes, I have. He hasn’t.”
He didn’t even glance at the waitress. Unfortunately, a candle in the center of their table illuminated his ice-blue eyes.
Oh sweet Jesus.
“Can I get you guys a drink?”
“Sure,” she said. “I’ll have a glass of the Pinot Noir.”
“Geneva . . . sorry, gin and tonic please.”
The young waitress walked away without giving them menus. But it didn’t appear as if Kenton cared—he was too busy staring at her.
“You have to stop doing that.”
He feigned ignorance. “Doing what?”
Uh-huh.
“Looking at me as if I’m the first course.”
He leaned back, but he didn’t listen. If anything, he ramped it up a notch.
