“Washing my hair,” she lied.
“Cali …”
“No, really. Earlier today, because of the construction, I just walked into a big cloud of—” She flung her hands wide to illustrate, and her purse shot off her shoulder like a missile. The insides of the purse spilled across the asphalt several feet away from them. “Well, damn,” she said, almost in disbelief.
“Remind me to duck next time,” said Ethan.
He jogged toward her purse and crouched down, about to collect everything for her. But she ran up beside him, fearful of what he might find. Seven different shades of nearly identical red lipstick. Loose cat treats rattling around like Tic Tacs. That terrible half-blinking photo on her driver’s license. A small vial labeled “tears of my enemies” that was really just filled with water but made her smile each time she saw it. It was all on display on the sidewalk for Ethan.
He casually scooped up the vial and read it as she tucked the rest back into the purse.
“You are full of surprises, Cali Jacobs,” he said. But he made no moves to return it. She noted how he said her full name, the way it lingered on his lips.
If Cali was being honest, that vial was her most treasured possession since moving to Autumn Ridge. She and Minka had found it during a girls’ trip to Salem, Massachusetts last fall. A reminder of Cali’s first friendship here. The same vial was buried in Minka’s purse somewhere, too.
She waited a few beats, until his lips curved upward into a restrained smile. “Careful,” she warned him. “I’ve got room in there for your tears, too.” His gaze softened, and the vial passed between their hands, their fingertips touching. Cali felt the warmth and electricity between them but tried to write it off as static. She cleared her throat and pressed her shoulders back. “What would we do?” she asked begrudgingly.
His eyebrows lifted. “‘We’?”
“Right now. Hypothetically. If my shampoo schedule allowed it.”
“Oh.” The question seemed to startle him, and he ran thick fingers through his hair as he looked away. “I just thought maybe we could, uh, search for the cat.”
Cali rolled her eyes. “In the dark?”
“Why not? Don’t you think, between us, we’d find him quickly? Cats are most active at dawn and dusk anyway. He’s bound to be around here somewhere.”
“Ethan,” she tsked. “It’s well past dusk. And the last time that cat wasbetween usit bolted and left a mark on me.” She lifted her bandaged wrist to remind him. “I’ll believe in midnight cat hunts when you show up here withcoq au vin.”
“Next Thursday then?”
“For book club?”
“No,” he said. “After.Coq au vinand wandering around in the dark together.”
She clicked her keys, the car chirping to life, and gave him a mock-sweet smile. “Careful, Ethan. That sounds dangerously close to a date.”
Chapter 5
Cali arrived at the library the next morning refreshed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been able to sleep with the windows open. April? May? However long ago it had been, it was too long.
She always felt different—better even—and slept deeper, too, whenever the weather chilled. The sunrise was lazy this morning, taking its time to pour through her bedroom window. The air felt thinner and crisp. The quiet hammer of woodpeckers, the comforting smell of wood smoke mingling with the cool air, the distant echo of marching bands practicing for the high school football games. Everything about Autumn Ridge looked brighter on her way into work, despite not snagging any cats with the pâté on the back porch again.
There was just something magical about the transition to autumn for Cali, because she could dig into the part of her wardrobe that celebrated the season. While she’d been noticed by many in Autumn Ridge for her vintage-inspired style ever since her arrival—red lips, horn-rimmed glasses, cardigans, blouses with bows, handmade circle skirts—her personality really shone through this morning. A circle skirt with a woodsy print of squirrels with acorns and fall foliage paired with a slim, emerald-green button-up, another cat brooch peeking out of the left breast pocket. This time it was a black cat with yellow eyes, one of her favorites. The only thing that would have made todaysweeter, she reasoned, was if there’d been a cat curled beside her head on the pillow or buried in the covers or stretched across her belly on top of the quilt. A little pang of sadness beat in her chest, the feel and memory of her first and only cat resurfacing.
She journeyed up the handicap ramp toward the double doors of the library, kitten heels softly clicking against the concrete, when she remembered what Minka had said about Ethan. How he’d been sitting there, across the street, every morning, with a thermos of black coffee. And reading—or watching. Perhaps watching her.
That’s ridiculous, Cali. He didn’t even know your name until yesterday. Why would he—?
She couldn’t help but glance over.
Ethan’s stormy gray eyes locked with hers. He had a phone pressed to one ear and a cocky smile on his face, the warm steam from the thermos rising up to his lips.
Cali chided herself for never taking note of him there before. Had he been sitting out there every day for the past six months? Or just more recently? She knew now he’d been spying on her as she fed the strays behind the library each morning. But had he been spying on her when she showed up to the library, too?
Then she realized she’d stopped walking up the ramp.
Ethan noticed, too, and lifted his hand in a casual wave, as if to sayCaught you staring again. She debated not waving back at all, pretending she was staring across the street at something else. Instead, she pretended to rummage through her purse for the library keys before granting him the world’s smallest wave back.
