Colin was quiet, even for him. And watchful. He walked ahead of me, leading me to the different rooms—the living room, the dining room, a study. And outside, the back porch overlooking a small but lush lawn. I oohed and ahhed. It came naturally, this admiration, because his house was beautiful and stark, like him. The place was large enough to be roomy, but small enough to be cozy. It was, as Goldilocks would say in Bailey’s book, just right. But I felt like he was waiting for something specific in my responses.

I leaned my elbows on the wood rail of the back patio as if I belonged. “It’s a great house.”

“Do you think so?” he asked. It didn’t sound like the idle question it should have been.

“Absolutely. It’s perfect. Why? You aren’t thinking of selling it, are you?”

“If I did, would you buy it?”

I laughed. “There’s no way I could afford this house. How much does something like this run? One hundred thousand?”

A faint blush tinted his cheeks, and I knew it had cost more. Not that I could even afford a fraction of that. It might as well have been a castle for all that it was accessible to me.

“The food’s probably ready,” he said, and we went back inside the house.

I found the dishes while he transferred the food from metal pots to ceramic platters. We met at the dining table amid clanking utensils. I set a place for him at the head of the table and sat next to him. That left five empty chairs and a wide expanse of cherry wood table.

“Do you have company often?” I asked.

His eyes flicked over the table, all those empty chairs. “No.”

I took a bite of the pot roast. The juices exploded in my mouth, and I released a soft moan. “God, this is good.”

A quick smile. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I bet you get that all the time.”

He shrugged. “It’s nice to eat a meal here, for once. And to have company.” My face heated. “How’s Bailey?”

I blinked. “She’s fine. And your brother?”

“Also fine.”

Have you talked to him lately? I wanted to ask. Done anything illegal? Dangerous? But his eyes warned me away. I wouldn’t like the answer.

We moved on to safer topics. My work at the bakery and his at his restaurant. We both worked with food—something so elemental, providing sustenance, health. In my case, not so much health, but there’s a special intimacy that comes from preparing food for someone, as he had cooked this dinner and I had baked that pie.

We ate and were merry, as merry as Colin ever was. It was a last meal, of sorts. When we’d both eaten too much, Colin took me to the living room.