“Why exactly are you here, Dusty?” Sylvie asked without missing a beat.
Adam slid his chair back a few inches from the table. Sylvie may look sweet, but she sounded like she knew how to hold her own against her brothers. Why did he find that reassuring?
Dusty choked on his food. He made a big deal of clearing his throat and taking several gulps of water. “I stopped by to see Adam,” he said after the obvious stall. “He was cooking supper, and I begged him to feed me.” He grinned at Adam. “Good stuff, man. Lobster season doesn’t start for a few more weeks, but I’ve got scallops back at my place. You want some?”
“That’d be great. Thanks.”
“I’ll bring you some tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow night?” Sylvie sounded annoyed.
Dusty got up and took his empty plate to the sink. “Or the next night. Whatever.”
“Call before you drop by the next time.” Sylvie continued eating.
“Yeah, right.” Dusty laughed, then frowned at her. “Are you serious?”
Sylvie put her fork down and sighed. Adam watched affection deepen the blue of her eyes as she looked at her brother. “Not really. It’s just...I’m not used to coming home from work and tripping over you. Every night. If you want to hang out with Adam, you can invite him to go for a beer. Or, here’s an idea. Hang out at your house. Sometimes I like to come home and soak in the tub with a glass of wine and a good book. Alone.”
With candlelight. Adam rubbed his forehead to banish the image from his mind. Think of something else. Think... Romeo barked from his yard, and Adam clambered to his feet.
“Fair enough.” Dusty headed for the door.
“But I still want those scallops,” Sylvie responded to her brother’s back.
“Only if you promise to let Adam cook them, not you.” Dusty turned to Adam. “I’ll check on Romeo for you. Relax. You worked hard today. See ya, man.”
Adam had planned to eat and leave, but now he felt awkward, as if he were a dinner guest. “I’ll wash the dishes before I go.” He scooped up the dishes from the table, pleased he’d thought of an exit line. Better to not examine why he felt ill at ease left alone with Sylvie. All he wanted to do was clean up his mess and leave.
* * *
SYLVIE JUMPED TO her feet and grabbed a dish towel. “You wash. I’ll dry. Or, I’ll wash and dry, and you write that recipe down for me.”
He glanced sideways at her, then looked away.
“What? Do I have gunk on my face from the café?” She watched Adam scrub the plate harder than necessary.
“You look great. Was the café busy tonight?”
“Why? Did my father talk to you?”
Adam stopped scrubbing. She took the plate from him, a tingle shooting up her arm as their fingers met. She almost dropped the plate.
“He did, but you were there, too, sort of, yesterday afternoon.”
She snapped her teeth together to keep the snark inside. It was exactly the kind of gibe her brothers would make. “I meant today.”
“Haven’t seen him today.” He grabbed a dish towel and dried his hands. “I don’t think this is such a great arrangement, Sylvie. It’s gotta be a drag for you to come home and find a stranger in your house. I can do all this stuff at my place.”
He didn’t feel like a stranger to her. He felt like...like someone she wanted to lean against. Right now. Standing side by side at the sink, she wanted to just lean against him. Maybe he’d put his arm around her and kiss the top of her head, and they’d make a silly joke about—
“Here’s the recipe. Told you it was simple.” Adam handed her a piece of paper he’d ripped from the notepad by the telephone. He pulled on his jean jacket. “Sorry you weren’t here when I made supper. Maybe another time.” He backed toward the door.
The one person in the village who was willing to help her was about to escape out the door. Couldn’t she have one person on her team? Did everyone have to work against her?
Sylvie blinked back tears of frustration. Tears would have him out the door quicker than a house fire. “I liked coming home and finding you here. Really.” In truth, she’d had to concentrate on not thinking about him all day. “The house smells so nice and the lights were on and...” She looked around the kitchen, trying to think of more positive stuff to say.
“And I need to talk to someone.” She smiled, hoping he’d be pleased. But his face darkened as he narrowed his gaze. He stayed close to the door.
“About what?”
Geez, could he sound any more suspicious? What did he think? That she needed help planning a murder?
“Well...” She went back to the sink and pulled the plug. “I’m going to plan a cycling event for the café, and I need to bounce some ideas around.” She sprayed water around the sink and turned to face him. Still with the suspicion.
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