He nodded. “I’ll, ah...think about it. Appreciate the offer.”
“Right.” Was that a yes or a no? “I’ve gotta go.” She dipped her head toward the village and the café. “Have a good day.”
She sprinted over to her car and climbed in. Have a good day? How lame could she get? He probably thought she was a spastic dweeb. And if he didn’t yet, her brothers would make sure he did by the end of the week. Knowing them, they probably already had plans to introduce him to the available women in town.
Which was a good thing, because Collina needed more people living here. And she needed Collina. That was where she wanted to direct her time and energy, making a place for herself here. She already had several ideas of how to increase business at the café at this time of the year. If she could stage one successful event, maybe Pops and her brothers would take her more seriously and agree she was capable of running the café.
Feeling more optimistic than she had in months, she whistled on her way to work.
* * *
THE SUN PEEKED over the horizon as Adam knocked softly on Sylvie’s door, then slipped inside and deposited his two bags of food on the counter. Cal had told him no one locked their doors here. Details like that—unlocked doors, wide-open, deserted beaches, and people stopping on the street to talk to each other—reinforced his decision that this was where he wanted to live.
According to Cal, Sylvie wasn’t an early riser. He liked that Sylvie had suggested he use her home for cooking and washing up, but hadn’t seriously considered the offer until he mentioned the idea to Cal, who agreed, albeit a tad reluctantly.
Adam’s water was a rusty brown. He could buy water to drink and cook with, but he hadn’t figured out what he was going to do about having a shower. Collina was too small to have any public facilities like a community center with showers or a Y. Plus, this way he didn’t have to waste time putting stuff away every day before they continued ripping his house apart.
After giving it some thought, he’d realized that using the kitchen and bathroom next door sounded like the perfect solution. But now that he was in Sylvie’s kitchen, he realized he should have given the idea more thought.
With her working nights at the café, he figured he should be able to avoid her most of the time. But it felt weird tiptoeing around her kitchen while she was still in bed. Sylvie and bed—intriguing, but not an image he wanted stuck in his head.
He pulled out the coffee beans he’d thought to grind before leaving his house. He’d make enough coffee for both him and Sylvie. Same with the blueberry pancakes he had planned. If she didn’t want them, he’d leave a note for her to put the batter in the fridge, and he’d use it for tomorrow’s breakfast.
After whipping up the batter and covering it, he crept into the hallway to find the bathroom. He stopped, listened for sounds of Sylvie moving around upstairs and continued on to the bathroom when all remained silent.
Moonbeam sat square in the middle of the hallway when he came out of the bathroom after the fastest shower he’d ever taken. The shower shelves had been full of Sylvie’s stuff, and the room had smelled like peaches. He swore the girly smell still clung to him.
The cat’s tiny pink tongue slipped out once as she practiced her cat stare on him. “You’ve got my number, don’t you?” He scooped her up and laid her across his shoulder as he shoved the kitchen door open.
“Oh. Hey.” He halted in the doorway.
Sylvie leaned a hip against the counter, sipping coffee. She wore those tight black pants she seemed to favor and a faded, blue-and-white flannel shirt that had probably belonged to one of her brothers or her father.
The curious expression on her face closed down. “I thought you were Pops.”
“Sorry.” He stopped, tried to form his thoughts into a cohesive sentence.
She looked warm and sleep-tousled, and he was back to thinking about how great she’d look in bed. Not a direction he wanted his thoughts to go. What the hell had he been thinking—that he could ignore a woman like Sylvie?
He slipped Moonbeam off his shoulder and edged toward the coffee, planning to grab a cup and run. With his back safely to her, he continued, “It didn’t occur to me to tell you I decided to take you up on your offer to use the house until I walked in this morning. Sorry.”
“Make yourself at home.”
He stiffened. Was she being sarcastic? Had he crossed some invisible boundary? People questioning his integrity was a by-product of the life he’d lived, but somehow he’d gotten it into his head that life would be different here. He would be different. Resigned to the inevitable, he put a half teaspoon of sugar in his coffee and turned to face her.
“I’ll get out of your way. Sorry to wake you.”
“No, I’m sorry. That sounded rude. I didn’t mean to imply you weren’t welcome. I’m not my best in the morning.” She smiled. “Where’s Romeo?”
“Outside.” He allowed himself to relax against the counter as he suppressed a laugh. Wow. It suddenly dawned on him that he was playing in a whole new ball game now. One where people didn’t automatically assume the worst of each other. That someone would apologize to him for indicating, not assuming, but only hinting he may be out of line, brought home how much he wanted to live here. “We went for a five-K run already, so he’s pretty pooped. That’s such a great beach. It’s amazing not many people use it.”
“One of the perks of living in a sparsely populated area, I guess. Romeo’s a great dog. Did you train him?”
“No. I got him from the animal shelter when I knew I was moving to the country. The previous owners loved shepherds, but having a large dog in the city is difficult for even the biggest dog lover.” He sipped his coffee. “Cal says you live in Toronto.”
“Yeah.” She let out a weary sigh.
He watched as she slipped into a chair at the table and leaned her head on her hand. Either she hadn’t completely woken up yet or living in T.O. wasn’t doing it for her.
“What part?”
“Yorkville.”
He raised his eyebrows. “That’s a classy part of town.”
“It’s okay.” She stared into her coffee.
He moved to the stove and turned the heat on under the frying pan. He might as well cook the pancakes he’d started. Sylvie didn’t seem to mind him being there, and he could use a big breakfast to start his day. He poured a scoop of batter into the pan and watched it sizzle along the edges. “Any idea when you’re moving back?” None of his business.
“Haven’t a clue.” When she continued to stare into her coffee, he felt a wrench in his gut. The same feeling he’d had a couple of days ago in the backyard when she’d looked sad. He flipped the pancake over. She had a family to support her—hell, she probably had the whole village at her beck and call. It wasn’t his responsibility to cheer her up.
He slipped the pancake on a plate and placed it in front of her, then poured more batter into the pan. “You don’t want to move back to Toronto?”
Her
