“Would you feel differently if distance wasn’t an issue?”
What?
She was talking in riddles.
“I don’t understand.”
“I have news.”
“I’m listening.”
“Mr. Howard’s hardware store is about to be transformed into Harbor Pointe Studio.” She motioned behind them. “I’m opening a ballet school in Hope Harbor.”
Her words registered, but the message refused to compute. “Wouldn’t you have to quit your job in New York to do that?”
“Yes. And I have. The company already had me slotted into the fall season, but I was able to negotiate a release from my contract after that. I should be able to get back here by mid-October. The timing will work out fine, since the renovations will take a while anyway.”
Out of everything she’d said, only one fact fully registered.
Devyn was going to live in Hope Harbor.
Apparently Gramp’s hopes hadn’t been unfounded after all.
A ripple of excitement ... exhilaration ... joy ... surged through him.
But on the heels of elation came questions.
He wrapped both hands around his cup. “That’s the best newsI’ve heard in years. But I thought retirement was several years in your future.”
“I did too, but the longer I stayed here, the less anxious I was to go back to the life I had in New York. Then opportunities began popping up, resources appeared—and I met an incredible guy. But to be honest, my decision wasn’t based on any expectations for us. I’m leaving New York because this is where I want to be, with the sister I love in the town that’s always felt like home. If you’re interested in exploring the sparks between us, I’m ready and willing. If they end up fizzling, though, I don’t want you to feel any guilt about me giving up my job to move here. This is where I want to be.”
“Understood. And for the record, I’m very interested in exploring those sparks—which I don’t expect to fizzle. In fact, I’d like to start exploring them now, but you picked a very public place for this discussion.”
One of the seagulls cackled.
Cheek dimpling, she rooted around in her purse. Extracted a key and dangled it in front of him. “I signed the lease for the space behind us yesterday. Would you like a private behind-the-scenes tour? Or maybe I should say a behind-the-shelving tour?”
Pulse picking up yet again, he rose and waved toward the door. “After you.”
She stood, crossed to the entrance, and inserted the key in the lock.
Once inside, he gave the space a scan. Dust motes floated in the stale air, and the place smelled like a combination of fertilizer, paint, solvents, pine tar, WD-40, and burned coffee.
Not exactly ideal ambiance.
But it didn’t matter.
Anywhere with Devyn would be romantic.
She led him to the back of the store, behind a tall shelving unit. When she turned around, the invitation in her eyes was too hard to resist.
Not that he intended to try.
“At tea last Saturday, Lauren and I toasted to new beginnings.” She smiled. “This was one of the ones I was hoping for.”
“New beginningsareworth celebrating. But since I don’t have any tea on hand, let’s try this instead.”
He set his drink on a shelf. Took hers and put it next to his. Slid her shoulder bag free and set it beside the cups.
