***
Their brisk pace had slowed to a comfortable stroll as they continued along Bayview Drive. Connor felt Maddy’s eyes on him, and heat rose on the back of his neck as the moment lengthened.
Finally he returned the look. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
She squinted thoughtfully, tilting her head. “I don’t know. I’ve only known you a couple weeks now, and everything I thought I knew about you was wrong.”
He lifted a shoulder. “I’m no big mystery. Pretty ordinary, really.”
“Your sisters don’t seem to think so.”
His sisters again. He rolled his eyes. “My sisters are little pests.”
Maddy smiled, her eyes coming alive. “That’s what little sisters are supposed to be. I should know—I am one.”
“They’re needy little suckers, and they butt in all the time. They hover like mother hens—especially since I lost Annie.”
He winced. Now why had he gone and said that?
“Annie?”
“My wife. Late wife.” Well, now that he’d gone and spilled the beans... “This week was the third anniversary of her death, so it’s been a little rough. You might’ve noticed I was distracted when you came by my office the other day.”
Maddy’s eyes softened. “I’m so sorry. That’s what your sisters meant when they said they didn’t want you to be alone this week.”
He gave a wry grin. “Exactly how long was this conversation between you and my sisters?”
“Not long at all. They were only explaining why they were in town the other day. You don’t have to talk about it. I just—I’m trying to get a picture of who you are, I guess. Now that I know you aren’t a beach-bumming womanizer.”
A laugh rumbled out, foreign and pleasant, surprising him. That was twice now. “Well, I can see I have nowhere to go but up.”
Her sheepish smile charmed him. “The bar was pretty low, I’ll admit.”
They shared a smile, and his gaze roved quickly over her face. He took in the pleasant planes, noticing her small shapely nose, her sun-kissed skin, and the generous curve of her mouth.
He pulled his eyes away, following a spotted plover that hopped across the street. It flew off at their approach.
He was a private person. He’d never worn his emotions on his sleeve, but he didn’t think Maddy did either, and she’d been vulnerable with him. He could share a small piece of himself.
“Annie and I were married for ten years. She passed away suddenly three years ago—an aneurysm.”
“I’m sorry. I can only imagine how hard that must’ve been.”
Maddy had obviously suffered regrets about things she’d done—falling in love, trusting someone unworthy of that trust. He wondered if she knew that regrets from things left undone could be just as painful. Maybe even more so.
“My dad died suddenly when I was twelve.” Then she quickly added, “I know it’s not the same thing.”
“Both are huge losses. That’s pretty young to lose a father.”
“It was a shock—hard on all of us.”
Their stories weren’t similar, not really. But they had some things in common. They both knew love could be a wonderful thing, and that losing it could shatter a person in two.
“Whew,” she said, smiling at him. “This is some heavy conversation we’re having today.”
“You’re easy to talk to,” he said, suddenly surprised at how much he meant that.
“Tell me about your family,” she said. “Your parents. Are they still living?”
