He didn’t know so many people in Oar’s Rest, and he seemed to have hit it off with her since their first meeting at Busy’s. And I knew that she was a huge fan of his. There was no reason they shouldn’t be friends. Another reason I couldn’t tell him about her. And after my friendship with Penny turned so rocky, I didn’t really want to risk telling him there was yet another girl we both knew who I had history with.

Elodie renewed her smile my way, but I couldn’t return it. My brain was in overdrive, drawing a conclusion about the fact they’d walked in together. A few days ago she’d been at the lighthouse saying she wanted me back, and now she was hanging all over Levi? Okay, so she wasn’t exactly all over him, but they were standing awfully close. They made a beautiful couple. They looked like they belonged together, and I had the sudden, paranoid thought that she could be attracted to Levi.

My mouth went dry. My Levi. I tamped down the budding jealousy. Just because he and Elodie were friends didn’t mean anything was taken away from me. I mean, it was totally possible they’d met along the way and just happened to both be coming to the same destination, but …

Elodie adjusted her hat. It was one of those ridiculous felt hats with a wide brim and a thick band of ribbon, the kind that people wore in high fashion magazines and not in real life. Her brown hair looked full and light, pointing to a professional blowout and not a wash-and-go like mine.

“Coffee,” Levi said. “My usual, please.”

“A caramel macchiato for me,” Elodie put in, giving me the full force of her megawatt smile.

“I’ll get that for you,” I said, wiping my hands on my apron. “Here or to go?”

“Here,” said Levi.

As Levi and Elodie made their way to his usual corner, I stifled the twist in my gut by using a clean, damp rag to give the table a vicious once-over. The heat evaporated the light sheen of water within seconds. I joined Lucy behind the counter.

“Please don’t look at me like that,” I said, pouring milk into a small pitcher before placing it under the machine’s nozzle.

With grim determination, I jabbed another button on the machine to get a double shot streaming into the white cup. With my free hand, I started the steaming process. The nozzle that descended into the pitcher began to whir, steaming the contents to a fluffy froth. Timing was everything in making a macchiato the right way.

“When did those two become friends?” asked Lucy.