Annie looked away, Will set down the bowl he was holding. “Annie.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not going to change my mind.”
“I know,” she said, unwrapping a glass with tiny clusters of grapes painted on it.
Will watched her small hands methodically pull out glasses and set the crumpled newspaper aside in neat little stacks. “What are you going to do?”
She pulled out the last glass, lined it up next to the others, and bent down to retrieve another box. “I have a plan.”
Will lifted a brow. “What is it?”
“It’s a surprise.”
His lips curved. He couldn’t help admiring her spirit. After the day she’d had, he wouldn’t blame her if she wanted to crawl into bed and spend the next few days there. Instead, she was down here unpacking as if nothing had happened and formulating a plan to move forward.
Will placed the last set of bowls on the rack and leaned back against the counter, watching her work. So they both had issues. Who didn’t? He wanted to spend more time with her. He wanted to get to know her better. Hell, maybe he could even help her daughter get over some of her fears.
“Listen,” he said, crossing the room to grab another box. “I was thinking of taking my grandfather’s old sailboat out for a spin this weekend. You and your daughter should come with me.”
“I told you,” Annie said, looking up. “I’m not dating you.”
“Don’t think of it as a date. Think of it as a way for Taylor to learn something new.”
Annie paused, her hand suspended over the box. She turned slowly to face him. “How do you know my daughter’s name?”
Will carried the new box back to the counter and set it down. “I might have heard some talk tonight.”
“What kind of talk ?”
“Listen, Annie.” Will leaned his arms on the box. “I didn’t realize—”
“I don’t appreciate my daughter being gossiped about,” Annie said tightly.
“It wasn’t gossip.” Will straightened, pushing back from the counter. “Not in a bad way, at least. People are concerned. They want to help.”
Annie scooped up the crumpled newspaper, shoving it into a trash bag.
“If you’re going to live here,” Will said, “Taylor should learn how to sail. It could be good for her, a way for her to find some courage and overcome her fears.”
Annie’s eyes flashed as they met his. “What do you know about Taylor’s fears?”
Will gazed down at her. That was a good question. He knew what it was like to survive, to live with the knowledge that everyone else around you had died. He knew what it was like to live with that guilt, and fall asleep every night wondering why.
But at least he had the ability to go after the bastards who’d hurt his friends.
He couldn’t imagine the helplessness Taylor must feel.
“I know,” he said finally, “that sometimes the only way to get over your fears is to focus on something else, something as simple as learning to tie ropes and measure wind speeds.”
Annie picked up the wine glasses; they clinked together as she gathered them into her arms. “Thanks for the advice. I think it’s time for you to leave now.”
“Annie—”
She carried them into the kitchen, setting them on the counter.
“Do me a favor,” Will said, raising his voice so she could hear him. “Ask Taylor before you say no.”
Annie walked back out to the kitchen doorway. “ I will decide what I will, and will not, ask my daughter.”
Will gazed back at her, at the fiery spark of protection and defensiveness in her eyes. “I wish you would let me help.”
“You could help,” she said, “by selling the inn.”
T he air was crisp and cool when Annie stepped out of the bank on Monday morning. She’d managed to convince Chase to back her new idea, at least temporarily. He’d agreed that if she could open the café in two weeks, and as long as it was a place for both locals and tourists, it could work. But he’d tightened the terms of the agreement: there was no
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