Besides, she had her daughter, her garden, her baking, and wine and romance novels for when the nights grew cold and lonely. She didn’t need a man or his affections to make her life complete.

But there was a big difference between need and want.

And what did she want?

Good question.

“This is me.” Renee held her hand out toward her cute little house as she and Dr. Dan came up Seashell Lane. She was proud of her home and gestured toward an empty space beside her bottom step. “I’m going to create a little succulent garden here this year. Maybe a jade, a few sempervivum. It will have to be something I move inside during the winter, but that shouldn’t be a problem because with central heating my living room gets as dry as a desert.”

“Ah,” he said with his usual brand of grave politeness.

Wait, no. What was she talking about? She resisted the urge to face-palm—less succulents, more sizzle.

Renee fumbled with the lock she only used every, single day, before pushing open her front door.

“Great place.” Dr. Dan entered the foyer, which was packed with antique shop finds. The chandelier was a special one she and Bree had found in Vermont.

Renee couldn’t help but beam. “Thanks. One of the benefits of being on my own all these years—I never had to consult a husband regarding my, um, eclectic choices.”

“I’m still adjusting to the single life myself,” he murmured. Again with the eye contact. His jaw flexed like he wanted to say more but was biting it back.

She nodded, not wanting to pry into the backstory of his widowhood. If and when he wanted to share, she’d be there.

He followed her into her warm kitchen with its terra-cotta floors and chipped white cabinets. The Formica countertops were scarred from various baking projects over the years and the refrigerator was decorated with photos of Tansy and magnets from various vacations, like a Liberty Bell from Philadelphia and a cactus from their trip to Tucson.

“Make yourself comfortable.” Renee nodded toward the built-in booth where Tansy used to hunker down with her homework. “What would you like to drink with your pie? Coffee or tea?”

“Green tea if you have it.” He slid his big frame onto the seat.

“I do. Citrus and matcha.” Renee busied herself preparing a kettle and tried not to sneak too many glances at Dr. Dan surrounded by her grandmother’s china and the wobbly mug stand Bree had made in woodshop her sophomore year. Dr. Dan simply fit in her home. He added to its coziness. He felt as right as her fraying but beloved kitchen towels and crocheted pot holders.

Renee set a plate of warm pie and a mug of tea in front of him. She brought her own tea over as well as the sugar canister.

“I already ate a piece for breakfast,” she admitted. “Two actually.”

Dr. Dan took his first bite, closing his eyes and offering a not-so-subtle moan of appreciation that sent her thoughts straight to the gutter and all her neck-licking fantasies.