“You’re really into this, aren’t you? Hard to believe you’re not a native.” He seemed so casual, so nonchalant, yet Vanessa could not fail to notice that his eyes were constantly moving, from the passing cars to other pedestrians.

“I’ve learned a lot from Hal. His family has been here since the early 1700s. Imagine that? Being able to trace your family back that far?”

“I guess it’s easy if no one ever left town. There’d be records in the churches of births, marriages, deaths,” he pointed out. “And depending on how well the town kept records of the deeds changing hands, you could trace that, too.”

“I suppose. But for someone…” She stopped herself from saying someone like me. “… someone whose family records are scattered or missing or inaccurate, or just plain unknown, it’s a revelation to find out that some people even know who their first ancestors were who came to this country, and even what ship they came on.” She shook her head and added, “I’ve never even met my real father. I took Keaton from a step-father, but my real dad… I know his name but I don’t know anything about him.”

“Maggie never told you?”

“There’s a lot Maggie hasn’t told me,” Vanessa said drily.

“Have you asked her?” He stopped at the corner when she did. “About the things you don’t know?”

She shook her head from side to side. “I always figured if she felt like talking about him, she would.” She made a face. “Maybe that’s not really true. Maybe I was afraid to ask because-oh, I don’t know. Because she’d blow me off, or maybe not tell the truth, you know, maybe just tell me what she thinks I want to hear.”

“What do you want to hear?”

“Just the truth.” She was taller in the four-inch heels she wore, but still not eye to eye with him. “I would like to know about my father. I always told her it didn’t matter, that I didn’t want to know, but it does matter. I do want to know.”

“If you weren’t honest with her, why would she be honest with you?”

Vanessa frowned. “Whose side are you on?”

“Yours.” He took her arm when she wouldn’t give him her hand. “If you want the truth, ask for it. Don’t assume people can read your mind. That’s game playing. I didn’t figure that for your style.”

She crossed the street and started walking back toward town, and he kept in step with her.

“Ness?”

“I heard you.”

“I can see that I upset you,” Grady said. “I’m very sorry. But you brought up-”

“I know I did.” She exhaled a long breath. “I’m not upset with you. I’m upset with myself.”

“Why?”

“Why?” She snorted. “Why should I feel annoyed with myself for telling a man I slept with last night all my deepest secrets?”

“If you can’t share something of yourself with the man you sleep with, maybe you shouldn’t be sleeping with him.”

“We don’t ‘sleep with’ each other. We slept. Past tense,” she corrected him. “We just slept together last night.”

“So you’re telling me I was just a one-night stand?” He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “I feel so… cheap. So… used.”

“You’re not funny.” She kept walking.

“What do you expect me to say?” He caught up with her in one stride. “Ness, I don’t do one-night stands.”

“Of course you do.” She brushed him off. “All guys do.”

“That’s not fair.”

“You stayed with me last night. You’re leaving today,” she pointed out. “One night.”

“So if I leave town today, that means I can’t come back?”

“You mean, like once a year? Or whenever you felt like it?”

Grady whistled, long and low. “You really have a low opinion of men, don’t you?”

When she didn’t answer, he said, “Every guy isn’t out to love you and leave you, Ness, or to hurt you if he stays.”

They walked along in silence for a while.

“You are the oddest man I have ever known.” She shook her head, then fell silent again for the rest of the walk back to the center of town.

“Want to stop for coffee?” he asked as they approached Cuppachino.

She shook her head.

“How ’bout we stop in the art gallery across the street and just take a look around?”

“It won’t open for another few weeks. Rocky, the guy who owns it, usually doesn’t come back to St. Dennis until June first. He has a home in Arizona, and he stays there except for the summer. Anyway, don’t you have to get going?”

“Are you trying to get rid of me? Tired of me already?”

“You said you had to leave St. Dennis by three. It’s almost that now, and you still have to go back to the Inn to get your stuff and check out.”

“I’ll get to it.”

They crossed the street, and Vanessa stopped in front of Bling. She hadn’t noticed last night, but one of the side windows must have been cracked, because it was boarded up on the outside. Through the front window she could see the mess. There was yellow crime-scene tape wrapped around the entire building, and she noticed several passersby stop to speculate. She wrapped her arms around herself and willed herself not to cry.

“Maybe they’ll let you go in soon and clean up,” Grady said. “Maybe Hal can speed that up for you.”

“He said tomorrow I could go in. I asked him this morning. After the shock of seeing him walk in with Maggie wore off.”

“That bothers you, doesn’t it? That Hal and Maggie seem to have so much to talk about?”

“How is it that you just always seem to know exactly which scab to pick at?” He’d just played on her last nerve.

She walked ahead of him and turned up Cherry Street without looking at him. He walked alongside her, his hands in the pockets of his Dockers, his dark glasses hiding his eyes.

When they got to her house, he said, “I just seem to set you off, no matter what I say. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry or get into your business, but when you throw stuff out there, you shouldn’t be surprised if I pick up on it. That’s part of the whole conversation thing. You say something, I listen and say something back to you that pertains to whatever it is that you said. Then you say something else, and voilà. A conversation.”

“I’m not used to talking about… certain things… with anyone. I don’t know why my mouth has been so free this morning. I don’t talk about my father, and I rarely talk about my mother, and as for this…” She placed a hand on her scar and shook her head. “So I don’t know what’s gotten into me. You seem to bring out the blabbermouth in me.”

“Sometimes it’s healthier to talk about things, than to not.” He smiled. “You can blabber on to me anytime you want.”

And I probably would, if you were sticking around, she thought.

“Now, here, all this time, I’d been led to believe that you were the strong, silent one. The loner. The recluse.” She snorted. “I swear I never met a man who asked as many questions or who talked about as much stuff as you do.”

“How else do you get to know someone?” Grady shrugged. “Besides, I like to talk to you. You’re not like most of the women I’ve known.”

“Yeah, well, back atcha there, pal.”

He laughed, and she found herself laughing, too.

She tugged on his hand.

“Come on in and get some cookies to take with you for your hike. I must have miscounted my batches, because I had some left over.”

“There were cookies here last night and you didn’t bother to mention it?”

“You were busy checking for intruders,” she reminded him as she unlocked the door.

His hand was on the small of her back while they walked toward the kitchen.

“Coffee or milk?” she asked.

“With cookies? Not even close.”

She opened the refrigerator and took out a carton of milk.

“Glasses are in the-” She stopped short, her attention drawn to a box wrapped in white paper and tied with red ribbon that sat in the middle of the kitchen table. “Did you put that there?”

His eyes followed her gaze to the table. “No. Maybe Hal dropped it off. Does he have a key?”

She nodded. “He does. Maybe it’s from Beck and Mia. You know, like a thank-you for being their unofficial wedding planner.”