Hazel’s jeans had so many tears in them that Vickie wasn’t sure how they managed to stay on her. Her bright pink crop top—which showed way too much skin for Vickie’s taste—had white lace sleeves. Her hair was wound into a knot on the side of her head, with strands sticking out in a messy pinwheel that Vickie was sure had been carefully planned and styled. Hazel glanced at the phone again, then got to her feet with a heavy sigh.

“I gotta go study, sorry. I’m not sure when Mom will be back. She had a call over in Penn Yan this afternoon.” She slipped the phone into her pocket as subtly as possible. Vickie had a feeling the only studying Hazel was going to do would be to check her social media accounts. But she stood and grabbed her bag.

“I need to do my grocery shopping. I’m glad we had a chance to chat. Let your mom know she can freeze some of those cookies if she wants. And tell her to stop by the house sometime. I haven’t talked to her in a little while.” And she definitely wanted to know more about Mike visiting her shop a lot.

She was surprised to see Gordon’s truck in the driveway when she got home, next to a large stack of gray-blue wood that matched her porch railing. Or at least, something that looked like wood. This must be the composite deck material he’d told her about. She was gathering grocery bags from the trunk when he came around the corner of the house.

“Hey, Vicks! Look what arrived today!” He gestured at the pile of boards.

She ground her teeth together. “I swear to God, Gordon, if you don’t stop calling me that, I’m going to unplug the coffee machine in the mornings.”

He took several bags from her hands and picked up the last few from the trunk, as well as a large package of paper towels. He headed toward the house ahead of her, glancing over his shoulder.

“I’ll stop calling you Vicks when you stop calling me Gordon.”

“But Gordon is your name.” They went into the kitchen and she directed him to put the bags on the kitchen island.

“And Victoria is your given name, but you get mad if I use that, too.” He winked. Good Lord, the man had a sexy wink. “You prefer Vickie. I prefer Gordy.”

She started unpacking the groceries. To her surprise, he helped. And even knew where most of it went. He’d been paying attention all those times he’d sat in her kitchen over the past month. Usually just for coffee, but he’d stayed for dinner a few times. Only because she had extra food—cooking for one was a trial.