A vision of Finn and me in our pajamas covertly raiding the fridge in the middle of the night flickered through my mind. At least we were wearing PJs. Keeping my visions PG was a wise move. “I was going to stop by the brewery, but I think I’ll save that for tomorrow. Better to go home and prepare some interview questions.”

“Home?”

My face warmed. “You know what I meant. Although it must feel like home to you by now. You’re so well versed in the town, I assumed you were a local.”

“I remember.” He returned my mock glare with a snicker. “Part of my job is to read up on the history of the town I’m helping to develop. But I soaked up a lot of esoteric knowledge just by being here, like the fact that Aaron and Greg from Brothers are actually cousins.”

“How long have you been staying at the B&B?”

“Almost a month.”

I whistled through my teeth. “Your boss has deeper pockets than mine.”

“Your boss currently being you, right?”

He was good at remembering details. “Right. I’m still freelance, so the magazine isn’t picking up any of my travel expenses.” I doubted Tea would do that for full-time employees either. “My mom is helping, though. God bless her.” Terrified as I was to let her down, the pieces of the puzzle were finally coming together with this new angle, and I was seriously stoked.

“You’re lucky to have her support.”

“I am. She’s my emotional rock.” With a wrinkle of my nose, I said, “My financial one too, but not for long, with any luck.” Why was I revealing such personal information to a stranger? I pressed the top of my straw with two fingers. “What about you? Are you close with your parents?” Asking the questions was my comfort zone.

A shadow crossed his face. “My mom died when I was young.”

My chest constricted. “Oh, I’m so sorry! My dad died when I was three.” I second-guessed sharing, fearing he’d think I was making it about me.

“I’m sorry too.” He broke eye contact, like our shared half-orphan status was a topic he didn’t care to discuss, then stood and pointed at my plate. “Are you finished here?”

I’d left the crust, something I never did on quality pizza. I nodded. “Like I said, it’s no John’s.” Beating him to it, I added, “Or Arturo’s! Did you know the forty-year-old Italian oven broke decades ago? False advertising!”

He dumped both our plates in the trash and turned to me with a guilty expression. “I did.”

“And you didn’t want to crush my dreams of amazing pizza.”

“Exactly.” He grinned. “I’ll walk back with you. I’m finished for the day too.”

“No beer for you tonight?”

“Not at the brewery, at least.”