He wasn’t sure why he’d let himself get so wrapped up in the reno, except that it felt like a sort of penance. He meant what he said at the park. He wasn’t sorry he’d run her out of town—even if that made him a dick. But he was sorry he’d hurt her. Broken her. Broken. God. The word still made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

So yeah, if he could help her now, he would. Even if it sent her away again. But it wouldn’t be like last time. There would be no breaking. She would just be going back to her life in Toronto. Paying off her debt. Hell, he was still trying to figure out how he was going to pay the mortgage and Clara’s tuition, so he understood what a gift Lucille had given her there.

“You miss your job in Toronto?” he asked suddenly.

“I guess so.” She looked over her shoulder at him.

“You guess so?”

“Well, I enjoy my job.” Her expression turned quizzical, like she was trying to figure something out. “But it’s not like I’m sitting here pining for it.”

“I always pictured you doing story time, recommending books to people.”

“That’s pretty much what I do—well, that plus a lot of behind-the-scenes stuff that the public doesn’t see. But actually, I have my eye on another job. I want to get into collections development.”

“Collections development?”

“Deciding what the system should buy. It sounds like being a glorified shopper, but it’s more than that. It’s about matching resources with community needs—and not just books. You can’t just—” She stopped. “Sorry, you don’t want to hear this.”

He did. But to say so felt too grasping.

“Anyway, it works out. I’m on an unpaid leave. And sometime this upcoming spring or summer, a couple new positions are going to open up in collections development, and not to sound too cocky, but one of them is mine.”

“Yeah?” He kind of liked Cocky Evie.

“Yeah. They’re doing a bit of a re-org, and an old mentor of mine from school—she was a part-time professor—is creating new selector jobs. That’s like for people to be the buyers in certain subject areas.”

“And one of them is yours.”

She grinned. “Pretty much. See? You’re not the only one getting jobs via nepotism.”

He chuckled and they hiked back toward town. He even got to touch her again. He extended a hand to help her over the little outcropping that bordered the cove, and she took it.

He looked at her hand, her pale-pink-painted nails jutting out from his larger fist. He made a note of the way it felt—soft and smooth.

This time—the real last time—he paid attention.