A subtle tension tightened his jaw before it vanished. “She’s always pulled together. Always perfect.”

Was there some recrimination wrapped around the compliment? Matthew came from a family that had made lots of money in furniture sales. Ivy had been aware of their different backgrounds but had convinced herself it didn’t matter. She shouldn’t have been surprised he’d ended up with, at least for a while, the very polished Dani.

“We can all aspire,” Ivy said.

“How would you like to get together for dinner? I’d love to catch up.”

“I’m pretty slammed right now.” The idea of getting cleaned up, even for herself, was too much. And slipping on heels for Matthew was a bridge too far.

A smile tugged the edges of his lips. “It’ll be strictly casual.”

“Nice of you to ask, Matthew. Really.” He followed her out to the sidewalk. “But with the house and the dogs . . .”

“Dogs?”

“Long story. I have a mother dog and three puppies.”

“Don’t let Bella see them.” Warm laughter drifted up. “She’s been after Dani and me to get a dog for months.” His tenderness for Bella stripped away his bad-boy veneer, making him more attractive.

“So I hear.”

“We really do need to have dinner, Ivy. It’s crazy not to catch up.” His grin was too charming.

“Sure, why not. How about tomorrow night?”

“I’m looking at new retail space tomorrow, but I’ll be finished in time. Let’s plan on it.”

Her empty dance card made it hard to say no. And if she was honest, she was a little flattered when he looked at her with that raw delight in his eyes. “Sure.”

“I’ll pick you up at six.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“It’s good to have you back.” His hand rose as if he’d touch her, but instead, he curled his fingers into a loose fist. “OBX was never the same after you left.”

“Thanks.”

She loaded her groceries and drove back to the cottage. When she arrived, the pups mewed as they greedily nursed. Libby lay on her side, allowing her brood to feast.

In the kitchen Ivy rummaged through the cabinets, looking for a large skillet. Instead of one, she found dozens that were rescues from the Seaside Resort. She chose a cast-iron skillet, blackened and seasoned by the years, that she’d used more times than she could count. She hefted the pan, gripping the handle as she would the hand of an old friend. She set it on the front burner and turned it on to high, remembering an old conversation with Ruth.

“Why do we use the same pan all the time?” Ivy had asked Ruth as she wrapped an apron around her narrow waist. She was in fifth grade and working her first shift in the kitchen as an assistant.

“It’s never failed me or my mama or daddy,” Ruth said. “It won’t fail you, if you take care of it.”

“Do you do everything they did?” Ivy asked.