Nights in Rodanthe by Nicholas Sparks Page B

in particular that he wanted to eat.
    His visit intrigued her. She knew from Jean that when he’d called six weeks ago, she’d said that she closed up after the New
     Year and wouldn’t open again until April; but he’d offered to pay double the room rate if she could stay open an extra week.
    He wasn’t on vacation, she was sure of that. Not only because Rodanthe wasn’t a popular destination in winter, but because
     he didn’t strike her as the vacationing type. Nor was his demeanor when he’d checked in that of someone who’d come here to
     relax.
    He hadn’t mentioned that he was visiting family, either, so that meant he was probably here for business. But that, too, didn’t
     make much sense. Other than fishing and tourism, there wasn’t much business in Rodanthe, and with the exception of those businesses
     that provided the necessities for those who lived here, most of them closed down for the winter anyway.
    She was still trying to figure it out when she heard him coming up the back steps. She listened as he stomped the sand from
     his feet outside the door.
    A moment later, the back door opened with a squeak, and Paul walked into the kitchen. As he shrugged off his jacket, she noticed
     that the tip of his nose had turned red.
    “I think the storm’s getting close,” he said. “The temperature’s dropped at least ten degrees since this morning.”
    Adrienne put a box of croutons into the cupboard and looked over her shoulder as she answered.
    “I know. I had to turn the heater up. This isn’t the most energy efficient of homes. I could actually feel the wind coming
     in through the windows. Sorry you don’t have better weather.”
    Paul rubbed his arms. “That’s the way it goes. Is the coffee still out? I think I could use a cup to warm up.”
    “It might be a little stale by now. I’ll make a fresh pot. It’ll only take a few minutes.”
    “You wouldn’t mind?”
    “Not at all. I think I could use one, too.”
    “Thank you. Just let me put my jacket in my room and clean up, and I’ll be right back down.”
    He smiled at her before he left the kitchen, and Adrienne felt herself exhale, unaware she’d been holding her breath. In his
     absence, she ground a handful of fresh beans, changed the filter, and started the coffee. She retrieved the silver pot, poured
     the contents down the sink, and rinsed it out. As she worked, she could hear him moving in the room above her.
    Though she’d known in advance that he would be the only guest this weekend, she hadn’t realized how strange it would seem
     to be alone in the house with him. Or alone, period. Sure, the kids had their own activities and she had a little time to
     herself now and then, but it was never for long. They could pop back in at any moment. Besides, they were
family.
It wasn’t quite the same as the situation she was in now, and she couldn’t escape the feeling that she was living someone
     else’s life, one in which she wasn’t exactly sure of the rules.
    She made a cup of coffee for herself and poured the rest into the silver pot. She was putting the pot back on the tray in
     the sitting room when she heard him coming down the stairs.
    “Just in time,” she said. “Coffee’s ready. Would you like me to get the fire going?”
    As Paul entered the sitting room, she caught a trace of cologne. He reached around her for a cup.
    “No, that’s okay. I’m comfortable. Maybe later.”
    She nodded and took a small step backward. “Well, if you need anything, I’ll be in the kitchen.”
    “I thought you said you wanted a cup.”
    “I already poured one. I left it on the counter.”
    He looked up. “You’re not going to join me?”
    There was something expectant in the way he asked, as if he really wanted her to stay.
    She hesitated. Jean was good at making small talk with strangers, but she never had been. At the same time, she was flattered
     by his offer, though she wasn’t sure why.
    “I suppose I could,” she