Outside, I light up a cigarette and lean against the building, watching the world go by as I wait. I am supposed to wait, aren’t I? We didn’t talk about it. Maybe she doesn’t even want to be seen with me. Last time, it was late. Nobody was out and about. But now, people are walking along The Circle. Kids are racing down the sidewalk. A few couples walk hand-in-hand going to or coming from dinner.

Across the street, Hawk McQuaid emerges from the ice-cream shop, his daughter perched on one hip, her hand dripping with the sticky remnants of the cone she’s licking. Hawk lifts his chin when he sees me. To be neighborly, I do the same.

I watch him walk away. That could have been me if I hadn’t ruined every single one of my relationships. Hell, I could very well have a gaggle of kids by now if Kaitlyn and I had married after high school like we’d planned.

Just as all the bad thoughts of my failed engagements come creeping back in, Regan comes out of the grocery store, two bags in hand. She eyes the wine bottle I’m holding. “You bought it? You could have just brought one from work, no?”

I shrug. “Why would I have had one with me? Thisisaccidental after all.” I nod in the direction of her shop down the street. “If it bothers you to be seen walking with me, I’ll go on ahead.” I take a drag of my smoke.

“I couldn’t care less what people think, Lucas.” She eyes my cigarette. “It’sthatthing that bothers me. Must you?”

I throw it down and stomp it out. “Don’t worry, the flavor of the wine will mask the taste of it.”

“So we’re actuallydrinkingthe wine? It’s not just for show?”

I laugh. “Regan, I may not be an expert at one-night stands, but I’m fairly sure most of them happen because of alcohol.”

She giggles. “You wouldn’t be wrong.”

I offer to carry her bags, but she doesn’t let me. I’m not sure if I should be offended or not. But it’s just one more indication that she has no intention of taking this beyond what it is. And as a smart woman, she’s wise to think that.

We don’t pass anyone on this side of the street, but there are a few families strolling the other side. I look at Regan to see if she has any reaction, like putting distance between us to prevent the rumors that will most definitely spread if anyone sees us together. But she doesn’t. It makes me think she was telling the truth when she said she doesn’t care what people think. Then again, looking at her clothes, I’m not surprised. Someone who dresses as outrageously as she does wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about the opinions of others.

Just outside her door, I hold out my hand for the keys.

“It’s open,” she says, skirting around me and pushing into it with her behind.

Once through, I ask, “You left your door unlocked?”

“Where have you been living all your life? I’ve been here in Calloway Creek where people respect one another.”

“But you don’t leave it unlocked at night, do you?”

She shrugs. “I lock it when I remember to.”

“Regan.” I admonish her with a stern look. “We’re not that far from the city. There are still a lot of bad people out there. And you’re a beautiful single woman.”

“Who knows self-defense.”

I raise a brow. “Really?”

“Learned it several years back. Anyway, here”—she finally hands the bags over—“my arms are killing me.”

“I would have carried them all the way, Regan.”

“I know.” She turns, hands on hips. “I may not care what people think, but sometimes it’s best not to pour fuel on the fire, you know?”

“Right.”

She opens the door to the stairway and I follow her up.

Halfway up, I have a memory. “Did I fall down the stairs the other night?”

She laughs. “Almost rearranged that handsome face of yours.”

I perk up. “You think I’m hot, eh?”

“I said handsome. There’s a difference.”