And—she finally realized what had been bugging her—in some unspoken way, he’d seemed done with her. As if she’d planned for him to come in and see her holding hands with Bobby Joe.

Didn’t Parr get that she had to maintain an illusion for the sake of his brother’s recovery? She wanted Bobby Joe to believe she would be there for as long as he truly needed her, wearing the rings he’d given her, encouraging him and cheering him on.

Parr had better not give her a hard time about it here.

“Mind if I sit with you?” He loomed over her. Her eyes were about level with the steel buckle of the plain black leather belt threaded through the fraying denim loops of his jeans. She looked up and fixed her gaze on his unsmiling face.

“Um—no.” She looked around. All the other tables were taken. She couldn’t very well refuse. “I thought you’d left.”

“I got as far as the parking lot and realized how hungry I was. Figured I might as well eat here first and then find someplace to get a little work done.”

He set a battered canvas tool bag down on the floor. She caught a glimpse of a laptop and roughed-out construction plans inside it.

He pulled out the plastic chair and sat, putting a wrapped roast beef sandwich on the dinky tabletop. He seemed too big for the space he was in, as usual. She wasn’t sure if the ravenous look in his eyes was just for the sandwich.

Now that they were alone, if she didn’t define the word too precisely, the impact of his physical presence hit her all over again. Massive. Muscular. And in charge.

Parr pointed to the muffin. “Come on. Don’t just pick at that. You need to eat.”

She took another small bite and put the muffin back on the paper plate, crumbling it.

“I don’t want it.”

“Sorry.”

Mary Beth noticed that he looked strictly at her face, never at her hands. She hadn’t taken off either ring. He would just have to get over his jealousy or whatever it was that was bothering him. She wasn’t going to talk about it. But she had to talk about something. “Are those plans for your mother’s kitchen?”

“Yeah.” He got the hint. “I still like to draw mine on paper. Then I do them a second time, with CAD software on my laptop. Hey, I meant to tell you. I got Bobby Joe a tablet.” He lifted it halfway out of the bag to show her the box.

“Nice.”

“It’s a good one and the hospital has free Wi-Fi. He can go online, look at Facebook, pick up his e-mail—it’ll keep him from going nuts.”