I changed gears, learned everything I could about the coffee business, found the perfect location . . . and here I am.”
“Did your dream end up being everything you hoped it would be?”
Some nuance in her question told him it was more than a casual inquiry.
“Yes—and more. I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.” Despite what his father thought.
“It must be wonderful to be that certain about your place in the world.”
“I haven’t always been. It took serious angst and soul searching to get here.”
“I envy the comfort level you have with your life.” A touch of melancholy wove through her comment.
Apparently Charley’s assessment that she was troubled—and searching—had been accurate.
“You don’t have that?”
She shrugged and remained silent.
Don’t push, Garrett. Comment—don’t question.
“For the record, getting here involved hard choices on my part.”
Distress darkened the blue of her irises to cobalt. “And you never regretted them?”
“No—but that doesn’t mean life is perfect. My choices did cause other issues. But since there’s nothing I can do about those, I don’t let them bother me.” Not much, anyway.
Kat scraped up the last of her cobbler and stood. “That was a treat. Thank you.”
He rose more slowly. “I’ll help you clean up.”
“There isn’t much to clean. I’ll add our dishes to the ones already in the dishwasher. Let me get the rest of your ice cream.”
“Keep it. Maybe we can have another cobbler party in a few days.”
He held his breath until she gave a slow nod.
“That might be a possibility. I’ll, uh, show you out.” She detoured to retrieve the bowl he’d brought over, which she’d already rinsed out, and headed for the back of the house.
Their impromptu get-together was over—and again, she’d told him very little about herself. Left with no other option, he followed her to the sliding door. The brief shower had passed, and blue sky was peeking through the clouds.
“Ya gotta love Oregon coast weather. If it doesn’t suit you, all you have to do is wait five minutes.”
“I enjoy the variety.” She pulled open the door and held out his bowl. “Thank you again.”
“My pleasure.” He took it, and as his fingers brushed hers, a sizzle of electricity surged through him.
She jerked her hand back, as if she’d felt the same high-voltage charge.
“You know . . . you never did tell me your full name.” He lightened his tone and tried humor again. “I’m beginning to think you’re a fugitive on the lam—or in the Witness Security Program.”
His tease earned him a brief lip flex.
“Nothing that exotic. I just prefer to maintain a low-key presence. I’m here on vacation, and only a few people know where I am. I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Why?”
“A story for another day. For those who are curious, I rented this house under the name Kat Morgan.”
Meaning that wasn’t her real name.
But it was all he was going to get today.
“Well . . . enjoy the rest of your day, Kat Morgan. And if you’re ever in the mood to visit, there’s a path through the trees that leads to my house.” He motioned toward it. “My place is much smaller than yours, but the door’s always open to friends.”
“We’re new acquaintances.”
“That’s how friendships begin. See you around.” He lifted a hand in farewell and retraced his steps across the small patch of manicured grass that dead-ended at more natural flora, which in turn led to the needle-carpeted ground in the copse of trees dividing the properties.
There, he stopped to look back.
The deck was deserted. Kat must have retreated inside—taking with her all of her secrets.
Slowing his pace, he continued toward his house, for once ignoring the majesty of the trees towering above him.
So what exactly had he gleaned from the impromptu tête-à-tête with his neighbor?
He ticked off the crumbs she’d thrown him.
She had no siblings. Nebraska had been her childhood home, though it didn’t sound as if she had any family left there. There’d been a dearth of milk in her young life. She was using the name Kat Morgan—but he’d be willing to bet that wasn’t the one on her birth certificate.
Her questions and tone hinted that Charley had had her pegged from the get-go.
But instead of clearing up any of the mystery surrounding her, those random pieces of data led to more questions.
Pausing on his own much smaller deck, he gave his unpretentious, contemporary one-story house a once-over. Nothing as glamorous as the Clark place, with all its high-end finishes, but it was simple and comfortable and met all