“How would you know that?”

The women. The staring. All that whispering. Come on. He had to know . . . right? “Women lined up to talk with you at the Lodge.”

He frowned at her. “Were we at the same Lodge?”

She might call him McHottiePants in her head but some of the things the women in the Lodge said out loud . . . wow. Married. Single. None of that seemed to matter. Connor sat in a room and the gazes zoomed in on him. She noticed. He had to notice.

She also wanted an honest answer. “So, of all the choices to run after, why pick me?”

His eyes bulged. “Run after?”

“Enough with the self-deprecating crap. Answer the question.”

He whistled. “If you insist, the answer is I’m not sure.”

She snorted. “Really?”

The question earned her an eye roll. He shot her one, then started talking. “Except that the sadness I see in your eyes looks familiar.”

Sadness? Nope. He didn’t get to do that. He knew her for five seconds and was drawing conclusions and pitying her. She hated all of that. “Don’t analyze me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“The answer is still no.” She didn’t elaborate but she doubted she needed to. The dinner question hovered over them.

He went back to cutting the pie. “Understood.”

“You’re frustrating.”

He lifted a huge wedge of pie—the equivalent of at least three actual servings—and slipped it onto the waiting plate. “Want to go back to talking about my stitches and how I got them?”

Yeah, he was never going to let that unfortunate little incident go.

She opened the door and sent him what she hoped was a look that telegraphed they were even and done. “Goodbye, Connor.”

“I’ll see you around town, Maddie.” He dug into the pie and made a satisfied humming sound as he gave it a try.

The look on his face was kind of cute. All smiling and happy and appreciative.

She refused to be swayed. “You’re not getting the last word.”

He swallowed the bite. “Yes, I am.”

Chapter 7

She made a friend.

A random guy who had been on the island for all of ten seconds. A nobody. Nothing interesting about him. Average in every way except that she moved in on him immediately. No games with this one. No pretending. Right to flirting and helping.

Brought him a fucking pie.

Little Miss Needy couldn’t control herself. Always investing in the wrong people. Looking in the wrong places for security. Ignoring the warning signs and moving in.

She never learned.

All that careful planning unraveled watching her now. Subtlety had failed. She needed to know this was serious. Deadly, even. Ratchet up the pressure and send a physical reminder of just how shitty her life could be. Make her understand that her behavior, once again, forced them into this position. The way she toyed with men. Her refusal to be honest.