Had she purposefully waited to come out until she thought he was gone? Had he overstayed his welcome? Sleeping over, even innocently, was a huge step considering that before yesterday, they hadn’t seen each other for six months. “Do you want me to go?”

“No.”

“Good.” Because no matter how many reasons his brain came up with to walk out the door, he didn’t want to. He crossed the tiles and handed her a coffee. “I walked the dog. We went for coffee.”

“Thank you.” She stared at the cardboard cup in her hand. Her gaze fell to the fuzzy slippers on her feet. “I should change.”

A worried hand touched her neck, but her throat was bare. No pearls to play with this morning. She wrapped the other hand around her middle, and the vulnerability in her posture cracked his resolve to keep his distance.

“Don’t.” He let a hint of desire heat his eyes. “I like the casual you.”

Her hand fell. She stood in the middle of her kitchen, lost. Allowing Louisa a few minutes to compose herself, he filled Kirra’s bowl with fresh water. The dog hadn’t eaten much of her breakfast. The vet had said to give her appetite a week. But if she wasn’t eating by Monday, she was going back.

“Sit down.” His hand brushed her arm as he passed her in the narrow space between the counter and the island. “Where are your plates?”

She pointed toward an upper cabinet.

“Blueberry or cranberry?”

“I don’t usually eat breakfast.” She slid onto a stool.

“I’m not usually awake for breakfast.” He put the muffins on plates and set them on the shiny, black granite. “I close the bar most nights. I don’t usually get to bed before three.”

She selected the cranberry nut muffin and picked at it. “Your siblings don’t take turns?”

“Pat takes a couple nights, but Danny moved to Maine, and we don’t let Jaynie close the place alone.”

“So you assume the bulk of the responsibility.”

“I live alone. It’s easier for me.” Conor shifted on his stool. “You’ve met most of my family. Tell me about yours.”

Sadness filled her eyes. She abandoned the muffin. “There isn’t much to say. I’m an only child.”

“Are you close to your parents? Do you miss them?” he prodded. Her reluctance to talk about her family was a red flag. After Barbara, the fact that Louisa wasn’t being totally up front with him should be a deal breaker.

“My mother died when I was ten.”

“I’m sorry. I lost my parents when I was twenty. Jayne and Danny were younger. It was much harder on them.”

“You and Pat raised them, right?” She neatly turned the conversation back to him. No surprise.