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chopped the onion and tossed it into a pan. “I stayed an extra week to learn how to make homemade pasta.”
    He didn’t miss the smile she tried to hide. Probably picturing him with dough caked on his fingers and flour on the dark T-shirts he favored. He’d been a mess all right, but there’d been a certain calmness to the whole process that prompted him to search out the kitchens of the friends he made along the way. Fajitas, pizza, egg rolls, stromboli. Homemade cuisine with a touch of local flavor. “If you peek on the deck, you’ll see the garden I’ve started. Basil, parsley, rosemary, oregano.”
    “I’m impressed.”
    He sliced away at a red pepper. “I wanted corn, but that requires a little re-thinking my living situation.”
    She laughed, an actual, honest-to-god laugh, accompanied by a real smile. “Maybe you can ask your brother if you can borrow a hunk of that prime real estate for a few ears of corn.”
    “Hey, great idea. Community garden.” He glanced her way and got lost in those blue eyes. “Can you picture it? I’ll bet most of the tenants here think lettuce grows in the organic section of the supermarket.”
    “Doesn’t it?”
    He laughed. “Sure. Right next to the asparagus.”
    She slid onto one of the bar stools and poured a glass of wine. “I’m still stuck on the Reheat and Takeout button, unless Quinn and Eve invite me over.”
    “Is she a good cook?”
    “Actually, Quinn’s the cook in the house.”
    “No kidding?” The guy could cook, loved his wife, kid, and his job… If Ash let his emotions go, he could really despise the man. Quinn Burnes led a life of calm contentment while the rest of the men in the world struggled with lost love, broken hearts, and misunderstood psyches. Damn the man. On second thought, maybe Ash could take a lesson or two from him…Who was he kidding? He’d rather swear vows of celibacy and silence than listen to the wonderful world of Quinn Burnes. “Is there anything he can’t do?”
    Her gaze narrowed on him like it used to when she saw through what he was saying to the real question. He hadn’t much appreciated her ability to read him then and he didn’t like it now. “There’s no need to be jealous of Quinn.”
    “Trust me, I’m not.” Jealous? Because the man had tossed aside his old world of wanton excess and found a woman and a life that mattered? Because said woman obviously cherished him? And wanted to be with him, build a family even? Ash hacked at the onion with a bit more force than he intended. “I’m not—” chop, chop, chop “—jealous.”
    “Okay.” A piece of onion flew off the cutting board and Arianna scooped it up, tossed it in the pan. “You’re not jealous.”
    “Right.” Damn straight. He pulled out the garlic press and tucked a clove inside. “Enough about that man. I’m going to make you the best aglio olio you ever tasted.” He drizzled olive oil into a pan and said, “And then I’m going to show you what I’ve been doing these past two years.”
    ***
    Did Ash have any idea how talented he was? She’d never seen such evocative imagery, compelling in nature and circumstance, whether an old woman’s lined face or a country road leading to anywhere. Or nowhere. She’d been drawn to his photographs the first time he showed her, but these were past the basics of good composition and scene selection. These touched souls, buried themselves in hearts, demanded forgiveness and redemption. These could make a person weep in their beauty, or their sadness. These photos spoke of love, loss, and loneliness.
    Maybe Ash’s leaving had hurt him as much as it had hurt her, even though it had been his choice. Maybe he had changed and was willing to do anything for another chance…but was she equally willing? What if it meant dredging up a past he didn’t know existed, one she grew queasy over whenever she thought of it? Would she be able to do it? Would she want to?
    Ash Lancaster was indeed a complicated