“Not until I clean that thing on your forehead.” I drape a hand over his damp shoulder and press down, and he drops to the seat. I hook a finger under his chin and tilt his face toward mine.

His eyes drift closed. “Well, I was headed back to the office to meet you when she stopped me. She saw my coffee cup and she wanted to know if it was any good. She said she hadn’t scoped out the shops in town yet and was dying for a decent cappuccino.”

I reach for the bottle of antiseptic, making a humming sound for him to continue.

“I remember thinking I hadn’t seen her in the restaurants or on the streets. Not that I notice every tourist, but you saw her. She’s pretty—was pretty.”

I douse the cut with liquid, and he hisses at the sting. “Sorry.” Not sorry. Not jealous, but not sorry, either. “Keep going.”

Paul winces as I dab a cotton swab around the wound. “Anyway, I told her to skip the coffee shop for the counter at the back of the organic market, that their beans are way better. She thanked me, and that’s when you walked up. She stopped talking.”

“No, Paul. That’s when you stopped talking. She perked up when I introduced myself, remember? It was like a light bulb went off in her head when I said the name Keller. I think she recognized it or something.”

His eyes open. “Maybe she was house hunting. Even if she didn’t come here looking for me specifically, my name’s on at least a dozen lot signs. Maybe she didn’t make the connection until you said the name.”

It wouldn’t be the first time Paul was approached by a stranger in town, someone who saw his homes in Dwell or Architectural Digest or on Houzz and wanted to meet the wizard behind the curtain. In the architecture world, Paul is kind of a rock star. People drive hundreds of miles just to beg him to design their dream house.

I pinch the skin around the cut and seal the wound with liquid bandage, then toss the tube on the counter. “Even more reason to just admit you ran into her randomly on the street. What if they find your name in her search history? What if she, I don’t know, has pictures of some of your houses on her phone? At least then you won’t look like you’ve got something to hide.”

“Is that what you think, that I’m hiding something? Because I told you everything. There’s nothing else going on here.”

The hurt in his voice straightens my spine. “That’s not what I said at all. I know you’re not the reason that woman ended up in the lake. You have an alibi, remember? We were together all night.”