“I am not a very nurturing person. In fact, I haven’t been responsible for any living creature except myself in years—”
“Comforting to hear—”
“And have never even considered getting a pet.” She adjusted the neckline of her shirt and sat up straight. “I’m a wood sculptor.”
“Ah. A successful one?”
“I don’t measure success in terms of income or recognition.”
Likely because she hadn’t received any of either.
“I’m successful,” she continued, “at what matters to me, which is creating art that I’m proud of and contributing beauty to the world.”
If she’d made the wooden heads on the bedside tables, he wouldn’t say she’d been a success at contributing beauty to the world, either. “Are you from this island?”
“No, I was raised in Dallas. I moved here six years ago.”
“Why?”
Her gaze slid away from his. “I wanted the independence and nature and solitude.”
“What made you choose this place specifically?”
“My grandfather built this cottage when my mother was young so that his family could spend time here every summer. Which is exactly what they did. First my mom and then my sister and me. When my grandfather passed away, my mother inherited this place. No one had ever lived here year-round until I asked Mom if I could. She said yes.”
“What’s it like, living here?”
“Peaceful. Difficult.”
“Not at all convenient.”
“No,” she quickly agreed. “Not at all.”
“You don’t value convenience?”
She thought about it for a few moments. “Convenience is nice. But I’ve found that there are things that matter more to me.”
“Like?”
“Self-sufficiency. Safety.”
Just as she was gathering the last of the oatmeal onto the spoon, he picked up the coffee mug and sipped.
Her lower lip plopped open. “I thought you couldn’t feed yourself.”
“I’m as surprised as you are.”
Her eyes flashed. She tossed the spoon back into the bowl with a clatter. Testy.
He was in so much discomfort that a smile hadn’t been possible until now, but he gave her a big one. Both barrels.
He expected her to soften, to smile back, maybe even to get flustered.
Instead, she met his gaze directly, appearing completely and totally unmoved. “You tricked me,” she accused.
“Yes.”
“I saved your life! I’m basically Florence Nightingale—”
