He eyed me, then dropped both ones in the tip jar.

My lip twitched. “Well played.” I acknowledged the move with a half bow.

He was fighting a grin, too. “Thank you.”

A few quick punches and pulls and the electric appliances were turned off, odds and ends were put away, and the leftover coffee grounds were dumped into the old aluminum canister that the beans had come in.

Levi watched with interest as I thwacked the last of the grounds into the can. “We sell it for garden and compost piles,” I explained.

“Is there a lot of money in that?”

I heaved the heavy canister under the counter and turned my back to Levi as I scrubbed the filter clean and replaced it in the coffee machine. “Not really, but the owner of this place—that’s Tom, he was in here earlier—I asked him whether I could start this initiative as a way to keep our grounds out of the landfills, and he loved the idea. He said if I could find a way to make money out of it, it was all mine.”

I shrugged, straightening up and working a kink out of my spine. “But it’s not about the money.” I pulled the apron over my head and hung it on a round peg next to the sink, half-draped over Lucy’s.

“I wish more people cared about the environment. I think what you’re doing is really great.”

I rounded the side of the counter and headed for the door. About to push it open, I was surprised when Levi reached it faster and held it open. “Thanks,” I muttered, hoping he didn’t see my cheeks flame. It was a little embarrassing how flattered I was at his admiration.

A blast of warm air hit me and I inhaled the sweet, sweet scent of sand and sea. It was more intoxicating than any bottled fragrance—even the clean scent that was clinging to Levi. I glanced at him. His head was tipped up and his eyes were closed. A tiny smile played on his lips, like he was enjoying the same thing I was. I knew I’d remember that smile a lot longer than just tonight.

Levi’s eyes opened and he caught me staring. “Sorry. I just—I really love that smell. It never gets old. Do you … do you smell it that way, too? Or are you used to it?”

“Every time still feels like the first,” I said with a smile.

Before the door closed, I snagged my arm behind Levi and turned off the lights. While he waited, I pulled the door shut, locked up, and slid the key down the front pocket of my shorts.

“Have a good night,” he said as I reached for my bike.

It was propped against the peeling green paint of the Busy Bean’s wall, sans chain and lock. In Oar’s Rest, neighbors looked out for neighbors.