“What? Lie down on the job?”

“Smile. It looks good on you.”

He held her eyes with his for a moment before he shifted his glance to the bag she carried. “What did Diana brew up today?”

“Minestrone.”

“Oh, my favorite.” He hauled himself up off the stairs and held the front door for her.

Walking past him into the house, she noticed a wet spot on his jeans from the ice on the stairs, not that she was looking at his jeans or anything. “Where did you get the Sam Adams? That’s not my brand.”

He followed her upstairs to the makeshift dining room. “I bought some. I can’t drink that lightweight stuff you like. I got some more of yours, too.”

Surprised, she turned to him. “Thanks.”

“It’s a peace offering,” he said as he took one of her beers from the tiny fridge and opened it for her.

“Me bring you peace in form of beer,” she joked. “I thought we already made peace. The truce and all that?”

“It occurred to me I never said I was sorry. I was out of line getting on you about your kids, and I am sorry.”

“Thank you,” she said, giving him a suspicious look.

“What?”

“You surprise me, O’Malley.”

He chuckled. “How’s that?”

“I wouldn’t have imagined you to be the apologizing sort.”

“Why do I feel judged?” he asked, mimicking her tone from the other night.

Hands on her hips, she stared him down. “Are you trying to jeopardize our truce?”

“No way. I want what you’ve got in that bag.”

“Here’s your change and your soup. Thanks for treating.”

“My pleasure.” He got himself another beer.

Clare sat on the sofa and put her feet up on the coffee table. The leg she’d broken in the accident was aching after the afternoon in the shop. With the Christmas shopping season underway, the store had been busier than usual. She took a long sip of her beer.

He sat on the floor with his back against the sofa but turned so he could see her. “You’re a real beer girl, huh?”

“Yep. Always have been. When my husband and I went out he’d have wine, and I’d have beer. He used to tease me about it.” Her voice trailed off. She hadn’t thought of Jack in days. Where had that memory come from all of a sudden?

“Must’ve been some kind of breakup.”

Her gaze darted over to him. “Why do you say that?”

“The look you had on your face when you mentioned him and then the one you got when you realized what you’d said.”

Clare wasn’t sure if she was annoyed or intrigued to find such startling intelligence beneath his gruff exterior. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Fine, then we won’t. Can I ask you something else that’s none of my business?”