“Agreed,” Ash said.

“In fact, maybe we take the opposite direction. Maybe there’s a way to celebrate the good things about the town in here. Change the vibe.”

“The good things about the town?” he asked, clearly skeptical. “Like what? The brand-new stoplight down the street? Or the movie theater that only shows dollar movies? The near-religious obsession with high school football?”

“Shut up, snob.” She gave him a petulant look. “There are good things.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he nodded in a go on motion.

“I’m just saying that there has to be some way to show people who come in here that this place isn’t one thing. That it’s a great little town with friendly, interesting people. That it’s worth visiting. Maybe staying.”

Ash tucked his hands in his back pockets and looked around at the store. “Right now, this store says it’s a dusty, sad town that’s seen better days.”

Kincaid followed his gaze, watched the dust motes dance in the early-morning sunshine coming through the windows. “Then I guess we better get to work. Ready to bulldoze?”

Ash’s blue eyes sparkled, a genuine smile touching his lips. “Let’s do this.”

She put a hand to her hip. “You sure you remember how to get your hands dirty, city boy?”

He reached out and grabbed her hand. An electric awareness zipped through her body at the warm, roughened touch of his fingers. For a second, as he lifted her hand higher, she thought he was going to kiss the top of it. But then he stopped, her hand halfway to his mouth, and he looked down at her fingers. “Sure you’re not afraid to mess up your manicure, bumpkin?”

Her teeth clicked together, and she yanked her hand back. “Just for that, you’re assigned the bathrooms.”

“You can’t assign,” he said, amusement on his face.

“Oh, you’re cute. You think this is a democracy.” Then she turned on her heel, grabbed her coffee, and headed to the front of the store.

She thought he would continue to protest, but when she went to throw away her coffee cup a little while later, she found Ash scrubbing the sink of the small bathroom. A glimmer of guilt went through her. She was teasing Ash about being too posh and a city boy, but she knew better than anyone where he came from. Ash’s family had always had more money than hers but just as many problems. She knew he’d been estranged from his family since he’d left town, that they’d cut him off in every way. Anything Ash had now, he’d gotten through hard work and determination—all on his own. She shouldn’t tease him for a little fanciness. He’d earned it.

Kincaid leaned against the doorway of the bathroom. Ash looked over, hair falling into his face. “Everything okay?”

She smiled and stepped inside the small space. “Give me that bottle of cleaner. I’ve got the toilet.”

He waved her off. “It’s fine. I don’t mind doing the dirty stuff.”