“I would too. The steering committee has been doing a ton of legwork to generate support. I’ll try to be there.”
“You want me to carry any of that over to the table?” Frank tipped his head toward the cake and coffee.
“I can manage. And thanks again for closing up today. We’ll be taking off after my aunt finishes her snack.”
The door opened, admitting an older couple with two teens in tow. Zach greeted them as he circled the counter and wove through the tables toward Stephanie, who’d chosen the same corner spot Kat had selected on her second visit.
He set the cake and coffee in front of her and claimed the empty chair. “Enjoy.”
“No worries on that score. Chocolate and coffee are an excellent pairing.” She picked up her fork and used the edge to cut off a piece of cake.
“How was your visit with Dad?”
“Too fast—and he was preoccupied with his case. We had a few significant conversations . . . but if you’re wondering whether we discussed the rift, the answer is no. I mentioned I was flying here from Atlanta, but he didn’t comment other than to wish me a pleasant trip.”
“That’s more or less what I expected.” Despite his assurance to Kat that he didn’t let the repercussions from his decision to pursue a different course affect him, his father’s lack of interest in his life remained a canker on his otherwise placid existence.
Stephanie forked another bite of cake. “If you want my opinion, I think he’s lonely.”
“He has no one to blame for that but himself.”
“That may be true—but overtures can come from either direction.”
“I tried, Aunt Stephanie.”
“That was a while back. People change. I have. Three, four years ago, if someone had asked me whether I was lonely, I’d have denied it. But that night in Paris on my birthday, I’d have given anything to have someone to share it with. Mind you, I didn’t dwell on it or wallow in self-pity. I long ago accepted that the parade had passed me by in the romance department.”
Subtle though it was, Zach caught the look she darted toward Frank.
“Maybe not. Aren’t you the one who told me not less than a week ago that miracles happen?”
“Touché.” Lips curving, she continued to eat her cake and transitioned to less serious subjects.
Twenty minutes later, as they prepared to leave, his aunt touched his arm halfway to the front door. “Give me a minute.”
She detoured to the counter.
Her exchange with Frank was too muted to hear, but as it ended and Stephanie turned to rejoin him, both were smiling.
And the slight flush was back on his aunt’s cheeks.
He pulled open the door and moved aside to let her exit, assessing his barista.
Frank was always upbeat, but in the past half hour he’d gone from cheerful to chipper. As if someone had given him a shot of effervescence.
From behind the counter, Frank winked at him.
Geez.
Between him and Bren, the romance meter in the coffee shop was going to zoom off the charts.
Too bad Kat had decided to boycott this place. If she showed up, maybe a bit of the buoyant, fizzy ambiance would rub off on her. Soften up that hard shell she’d wrapped herself in.
Because absent that sort of catalyst, should any new romance be in the cards, it seemed slated to happen among the older set.
And for a thirtysomething guy who couldn’t connect with the woman next door even after baking her blackberry cobbler, that was pretty darn depressing.
6
This could be another mistake.
A big one.
Bigger than her second trip to The Perfect Blend.
Pulse picking up, Katherine halted at the edge of the trees that separated her property from Zach’s.
For heaven’s sake, Katherine—just do it!
Despite the dictate from her subconscious that had brought her this far after a forty-eight-hour debate over the pros and cons of such a visit, she held her ground and crimped her fingers around the rim of the plate containing a dozen blackberry truffles.
For someone who professed to want privacy and was determined to remain incognito, initiating contact with the man next door didn’t make sense.
Except . . . the two seagulls who liked to loiter in her yard and follow her to the beach weren’t much company—and being around someone who seemed to have his act together, who respected her back-off signals when their conversation moved onto shaky ground, was appealing.
As was the man himself.
Who could have guessed that a hot—and available—guy like Zach would live on the adjacent property?
She tugged down the loose tunic that was flapping in the breeze over her leggings, trying to rein in her nervousness.
If she followed the prods of her subconscious, she’d be stepping into a danger zone. While Zach hadn’t recognized her the other day as they’d indulged in cobbler, her luck could run out if he got another close-up gander.
But her sunglasses hid most of her face, and the rest of her disguise was solid. A new hairstyle and color, along with the absence of her usual theatrical makeup, gave her a whole different look. Even an avid fan would have difficulty recognizing her—especially out of context.
Maybe the risk of being unmasked was lower than she feared.
Besides, she didn’t have to linger during the delivery. She could hand off the treat at the door and beat a hasty retreat. A few minutes in Zach’s presence to absorb a tiny bit of his warmth and calm would be sufficient.
She straightened her spine.
Yes. A quick visit was worth the gamble.
Forcing her feet to carry her forward, she continued toward his house, following the short path through the small grove of trees.
As she emerged, she paused to examine Zach’s home.
It was smaller than her rental unit, as he’d indicated, but attractive and welcoming. Constructed of redwood and stone, with several rooflines at various angles and large expanses of glass, it fit the image of coastal contemporary architecture to a T. Unlike her property, there was no manicured lawn. The structure was nestled into the landscape, as if it was a natural outgrowth of the terrain. The sea view wasn’t quite as expansive from here either, thanks to an abundance of trees, but the house felt private and cozy.
It was a perfect complement to the man who lived here.
She continued forward . . . but stopped again at a movement in her peripheral vision.
A slender woman dressed in jeans and a sweater rose from a chair tucked into a shadowed corner of the deck.
Kat clutched the plate tighter, remaining as still as the deer that froze at the slightest hint of danger back in Nebraska. If she retreated, the woman would notice her. If she stayed where she was, it was possible Zach’s guest would go inside.
Guest.
Her spirits tanked.
While he’d intimated there was no one special in his life, that didn’t mean he never dated. A guy like him would have no difficulty securing a companion for dinner . . . and perhaps more.
Man, this was awkward.
Neither he—nor his date—would be thrilled by the appearance of a gift-toting single neighbor in the middle of their tryst . . . or whatever it was.
If only the earth would open and swallow her up.
Since that wasn’t going to happen, all she could do was hope the woman angled away so she could—