“First, you’re one of three, though I’m not sure how good our residents are at telling Korean from Japanese or any other group because, you’re right, they seem to think all local Asians are related.” Ben slid into his leather chair and nodded for Connor to retake his seat.

Connor sighed. “That’s bullshit.”

Ben nodded. “Agreed. And, second, you actually are related to Hansen. I knew that when we met last night because you said it. Also, because your brother sent me a photo of you so that I could welcome you when you arrived on Whitaker. You are one of the few people on Earth who actually looks like their photo, by the way.”

“Fair enough.” Connor glanced over his shoulder at her. “And you?”

Lines of babble filled her brain. She had to wade through all the words and ridiculous verbal wrong turns to find something to say. “Ben told me you were here and had some trouble last night. I made the connection from there.”

“Maddie answers phones for the police department and a bunch of businesses in town.” Ben looked at her then stared at the empty chair next to Connor. Ben didn’t say another word until she sat down in it. Then he glanced at Connor again. “The longer you stick around the island, the more likely you’ll hear her voice on the other end of the line.”

“Okay.” Connor didn’t sound angry or confused or . . . anything really. His deep voice rolled out of him with ease, all confident and sure.

That made her twitchy.

She shot up and out of her seat again. “I should get back to work.”

Ben cleared his throat. “Maddie.”

She got to the door in two steps. Nearly ran into it before turning around to face Ben again. “Hmm?”

“Is there anything you want to say to Connor?”

She glanced at Connor and the confused expression on his pretty face. She feared that every time she saw him from now on or heard his name the phrase Connor McHottiePants would run through her head.

Yeah, no. “Nope, I’m good.”

“Maddie.” Ben’s voice sounded louder and more firm this time.

Her shoulders fell and she stopped fumbling with the doorknob that refused to turn. “Stop saying my name.”

“I have all the fibers and prints. Sooner or later I’ll—”

“No!” Not this way. She wanted to slide into it. Let some of Connor’s anger burn off first.

Connor’s frown took on a need-to-run tinge. She recognized the expression because she saw it in the mirror most mornings.

“Should I come back?” Connor started to stand up. Got halfway there. “This feels like a personal thing.”

Wait, no. Not personal. She had an explanation. It was . . . a mistake. Being neighborly and she misfired. Very simple. “It’s not.”

Ben sighed. “It’s about you.”