Forty-five minutes later, the subtle but comforting taste of cinnamon lingering on his tongue, he leaned back in his seat by the window. Exhaled. This had been an inspired idea. Here, among the laughing, chatting Saturday crowd enjoying the weekend, his nerves had calmed. He could almost pretend, for this brief interlude, that life was normal and—

His heart stumbled, and he lurched forward. Peered at the woman in the fringe of his vision, on the other side of the street.

Was that Christi?

Yes.

The coffee he’d ingested began to gurgle.

Why on earth was she still in town? According to the chief, the owner of Sea Glass Cottage hadn’t pressed charges, and Christi had said she was leaving yesterday. What had changed?

Didn’t matter. He had to get out of here.

He straightened up and swiveled away from the window.

“Morning, Jack.” Charley ambled over, a lidded cup in hand, his usual smile in place. “I don’t often see you here on Saturday.”

“The Perfect Blend isn’t part of my usual weekend routine.” He groped for his keys. “But I thought a caffeine fix would set me up to tackle the day.”

“Couldn’t hurt. Did you order my favorite?” He indicated Jack’s cup.

“Yes.”

“Ought to do the trick.” He sipped his own café de olla, clearly in no hurry to cut their conversation short.

Jack sent a surreptitious glance out the window. Christi had paused several storefronts down to rummage through her shoulder bag.

Thankfully he’d parked around the corner and could slip out the back door undetected—as soon as he escaped from Charley.

“I had a chat with your friend Thursday.”

He shifted his attention back to the taco-making artist. “What?”

Charley motioned across the street with his cup. “Christi. I saw you two talking on the wharf and introduced myself after I shut down the stand. I wanted to welcome her to town.”

A muscle clenched in Jack’s jaw. “She’s not my friend.”

“No?” Charley’s eyebrows rose.

“No. And she won’t be here long.”

“She did say her visit would be short.” Charley sipped his coffee and perused her again. “I wonder if she fell in love with Hope Harbor and decided to stay. It’s been known to happen.”

Jack’s pulse lost its rhythm again.

Now that was a disturbing possibility.

But it was also unrealistic. No one relocated on a whim. Especially to a tiny town where you were apt to run into a man who’d made it clear he wanted nothing to do with you.

Her departure must have been delayed. Car trouble, perhaps. A worsening cold that would render the long drive untenable. A forecast of bad weather en route.

Still, he couldn’t quell the flickers of unease sparking in his nerve endings.

She started walking again, and he straightened up. “I doubt she’d want to live here.”