“No. When you’re a single working mother, life has a tendency to get in the way.” She didn’t tell him that she’d had no wish to go on a date with anyone until he’d invited her.

And she was still wondering why she’d said yes.

“Well, that’s good, because now that we’ve both admitted we’re very out of practice neither of us has to try and impress the other.”

Really? It couldn’t possibly be that easy, could it?

The waiter arrived at their table, and they both placed their orders.

“Do you always work that intensely when you’re writing?” Milly thought about all the notes stuck around the cabin and the fact that the fridge was usually empty. “It must be exhausting. Not very healthy.”

“It’s not healthy at all, but over the years I’ve discovered what works best for me. If I keep walking away from the book and taking time out, it’s harder to get started again when I sit down at my laptop. I prefer to immerse myself, work so hard I forget to eat and tidy up—” his brief look of apology was an acknowledgment of the fact that she’d witnessed the state of his cabin “—and finish a draft. Then I can relax and take my time over the revision process. I’ve learned that if I live with those characters day in, day out for a few months I stay locked in the story. Creativity doesn’t always respect office hours.”

“So you emerge at the end of your few months and discover that the world has ended and your bins are overflowing.”

“Something like that.”

It fascinated her to hear about a life that was so different from hers. “Still, it must be very satisfying writing a book that people love to read.”

“It is. Just as it must be satisfying cooking something that people can’t wait to eat, or running a place like Forest Nest where people go to escape and make happy memories. Different skill set, but still a skill. You’re good at what you do.”

She wondered if he was making fun of her. Not the cooking, she could see the validity in that comparison, but the rest? “Making beds and cleaning bathrooms?”

“I was thinking more about how you make people feel relaxed and welcome. I saw you the other day with that little girl. She was giving you a picture she’d drawn for you. I bumped into them later in the café. Her parents told me she’d been in hospital and that you’d sent her a note and a gift.”