“Yeah, uh…” He succeeded in setting her down and patted her arm. His face had gone all weirdly serious. “There you go.”

Sawyer realized with a start that he would never touch Evie again.

He could feel the grin sliding off his face as he set her back on her feet.

There might be incidental contact, now that they’d made up. Forearms brushing accidentally at the bar, that sort of thing. But this was the last time he would ever have Evie Abbott in his arms. He should have paid more attention.

He reminded himself that everything was good. She had learned to swim. They’d made up. They were not not-friends.

So why did he feel so bereft?

They slogged out of the water in silence. He wanted more than anything to pick her up again and carry her over the rocky patch. He might have, too, if she’d made any noises of discomfort, as she had on the way in. But she was silent, so he let her suffer. Let himself suffer.

“How’s Garretson doing with the new bathrooms?” he asked as they were drying off, in an attempt to distract himself with mundane conversation.

“How did you know I hired Marco Garretson?”

Oops. Should he tell her the truth? That he was abusing his position and reputation in town to make sure she got the best tradespeople in to do the stuff that was beyond his abilities? No. It was hard to say why, but he felt like she wouldn’t appreciate it. He was going to take his not-not-friends achievement and quit while he was ahead. “I saw his truck outside the inn yesterday. He did some work on my place a few years ago.” There. That was reasonable, right? It was also another partial truth. A not-lie, perhaps, for his not not-friend.

She accepted his excuse. “I’m surprised how easy it’s been to get people lined up. I thought I’d have to book them in for slots down the line, but it’s like they just magically appear when I need them. I hadn’t even really thought beyond the plumbing, but then I found a note in the mailbox from this tiler guy who said he heard I was doing bathrooms and could he come in and quote? I took him up on it. I figure I probably could lay tile myself, but the results would be horrendous.”

Sawyer dried his face next so he could smile into his towel. He was no better than Pearl. But he didn’t care.

“All right.” She hoisted her beach bag up, but he intervened. He grabbed it and slung it over his shoulder. “Oh, so not not-friends comes with bag-carrying services?” she teased as they started walking. She’d been getting a lot of mileage out of the not-not-friends thing. It had become a joke as he wormed his way into her renovation.

“It sure does.”