She crimped the handle of her tote in her fingers. “I am confused, though.”

“About what?”

She took a deep breath. “I don’t understand why you’re interested in me if you’re already involved with someone.”

His forehead bunched. “I was dating someone on a steady basis. I’m not anymore.”

“You were as of last night.”

“Ah.” His brow smoothed. “You were at the Spotted Hen.”

“Yes. I didn’t notice you until you left. I had a table by the window.”

“And saw us in the parking lot.”

“Yes. I wasn’t spying on you, but you were standing in the middle of the pavement, in plain sight.”

“Yes, we were. And what you witnessed was a goodbye scene. One that was too long in coming.”

All at once, Jolene’s comments about not judging by appearances fell into place.

Relief coursed through her—but on its heels came guilt.

“Was I why you broke up?”

“As I told Becky, meeting you did prompt me to reexamine our relationship, but the breakup was inevitable. I stayed with her for all the wrong reasons.” He swept a hand over the table. “If you want to sit again for a few minutes, I can fill you in.”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

“I’d like to.”

Well, if he was willing to share details . . .

She returned to the table and reclaimed her chair.

A faint hint of his distinctive aftershave tickled her nostrils as he moved past her and retook his seat. “Can I ask you a question before I launch into this?”

“Sure.”

“Have I been misreading your signals?”

That was direct.

And it deserved a direct answer.

“No.”

One side of his mouth quirked up. “That’s the best news I’ve had all day. Maybe all year.”

A delicious tingle raced through her. “Now you’re flirting.”

“No. Being honest again.” He leaned back and crossed an ankle over a knee, as if he had all the time in the world. “Let me back my story up, since we’ve talked a little about Jeff already and you asked about the house on a prior visit.” He motioned toward the photo on the wall.

“I assume he ran the farm.”

“Yes. I sold him my share. Much as I loved the place, I had no interest in being a farmer.”

“Were you always drawn to law enforcement?”

“Not the uniformed variety. I had law school in my sights. I was all set to go after I got my undergraduate degree—and then my best friend was killed in Iraq.” A shadow of grief once again darkened his eyes. “I decided to defer law school and serve my country.”

“Admirable.”

He waved aside that comment. “Don’t give me too much credit. My motive was equal parts patriotism, Don Quixote, and guilt. My friend appreciated the freedom and opportunities in America more than I did, and he died trying to safeguard what I took for granted. I decided the least I could do was put in a stint in the Army and defend the values I believe in.”