“But you don’t know that I drink a triple-shot latte every day before work. Or that I prefer showers to baths. Or that I’m allergic to cats.”

“Hope you’re not allergic to dogs.”

“Do you have one?”

He lay back against the towel, folding his arms behind his head, his eyes closed against the sun. “A sheepdog named Bo. You’ll love him.”

She wasn’t much of an animal person, but she supposed she could deal with one dog. Wasn’t a sheepdog like a miniature Lassie? She could deal with a little dog as long as he was well trained.

“Found him alongside Milestone Road when he was a pup,” Lucas said. “He was missing a bunch of fur on his neck, and I couldn’t find his owner, so I kept him.”

She jotted down the information. Sheepdog, Bo.

“What else should I know about you?” she asked.

She watched his chest rise and fall, glistening under the glare of the sun. His skin was dark, his chest well defined. She wondered if he worked out or if the muscles came from his work.

Stop staring. She sneaked a glance at his face to be sure she hadn’t been caught looking. He’d probably think she was checking him out. Which she hadn’t been.

Well, not too much.

“I like to sail, watch documentaries on TV, and fix anything broken.”

Kate scribbled more notes. “Anything else?”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I was married before. I guess you need to know that.”

How had she not known? “What happened?”

His eyelids fluttered, and he swallowed, then shifted, clasping his hands together on his flat abdomen.

“Sorry if I’m prying, but—” His family would expect her to know. She wondered if his ex-wife lived on the island. Maybe Kate knew her.

“Her name was Emily. She died five years ago.”

Oh.

She studied him. His tone was so soft, it obviously still affected him. Did he still love her? Maybe that’s why she hadn’t seen him with another woman.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Her family used to summer here. I met her when she came to the shop for a rocking chair. The business was getting off the ground, and we started dating. The rest was history.”

Kate waited for him to finish. The only sounds were that of the waves crashing the shoreline and the laughter of children playing in the shallows. “Is that when you built your house?”

He crossed his ankles. His legs were long and thick, covered in wiry black hair. “No. We lived in a cottage in Cisco after we married. I didn’t build my house until . . . until after.”