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“No, I’m one of those people whose key stopped working, and they haven’t gotten around to getting a new lock.”

He pressed his lips together. The judgyness was increasing.

“It’s on my to-do list,” she said. “But I’ve been busy. Also, I haven’t decided whether to get the entire house re-keyed or just have a separate key for the front door.” Then, because he was still staring at her, she added, “It isn’t like there’s a lot of crime happening in this neighborhood.” She pointed across the street to where her neighbor’s motorcycle sat. “Mr. Johnson’s keys have been dangling from that thing for months, and no one has stolen it. Of course, that might be because it’s so old, we all refer to it as The Death Trap, but the criminals don’t know that.”

Jace shook his head. “You say your grandmother is stubborn? I guess that means you come by it naturally.”

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll start locking the doors. At some point, 911 can expect a phone call from my grandmother when she gets locked outside and her keys don’t work, but the criminals won’t get in either. Heaven knows we’d be heartbroken if they stole Grandma’s Gone With the Wind decorative plate collection.”

Jace pinned her with a look. “There are other things criminals do that you should be worried about.”

He was right. If anyone else had been saying all this, she would be nodding in agreement and assuring them she’d fix the lock. But hearing criticism from a condescending ex-boyfriend brought out her snark. He didn’t care that she’d cried for two weeks after he broke up with her. He hadn’t even had the consideration to act sad about their breakup. His social media had been filled with pictures of him having fun.

All of those years seemed to melt away, and she was that sixteen-year-old girl again, wondering why she wasn’t good enough for him.

“I’ll take care of our door,” she said. “You don’t have to worry about me.” She gave him a smile. “That is your default, after all.”

He regarded her for a moment without speaking, his eyes traveling over her. “Should I have been worrying about you?”

She shifted her feet on the damp grass and wished she were dressed warmer. “No, of course not. I’m fine.”

“And your grandmother’s mental health? There’s no reason to worry about dementia?”

“No.”

“No loss of cognitive function?”

“She’s as sharp as a tack.”

The fireman came out of the door. “I found the problem,” he called. “The TV’s input source was wrong. That’s all. It should work now.”

It would be something like that. “I’m sure one of us would’ve figured that out,” Marlowe told Jace. “I didn’t really give it a thorough check.”

“An easy mistake to make,” he said.

She fought a blush and turned toward her grandmother so she wouldn’t have to keep looking into Jace’s eyes.

“The input source,” Grandma repeated, with a shake of her head. “When I was young, you just had to turn on the TV and it worked. Now the remote has so many buttons, you need a PhD to figure out what they’re all for.”

She had a point, really.

“Are you still at the hair salon on Main?” Jace asked, dragging Marlowe’s attention back to him. She hadn’t realized he knew where she worked.

“Yep.” Marlowe tried to say the word like she wasn’t embarrassed about her job. Jace had a year of med school left. He’d escaped the small-town life, just like he’d always wanted, and would be a wealthy doctor somewhere, dashing around in sports cars and vacationing in Europe.

Meanwhile, Marlowe still lived in the same small town, working for low wages and tips. Yeah, he probably regretted letting her slip from his grasp.

“I’ll come in for a haircut sometime,” he said. “We should get caught up. This just isn’t the best place.”

Jace wanted to get caught up with her? As soon as the question passed through her mind, she realized his words were just a polite way to end the conversation. His hair was already shorter than he’d worn it in high school. He didn’t really want to spend time with her.

“Sure,” she said.

As if on cue, one of the firemen called to Jace. They were packing up to go. He nodded goodbye to her and strode back to the truck.

Marlowe went to her grandmother, took hold of her elbow, and shuffled along beside her on the walkway to the house.

When the two were far enough away to be out of earshot, her grandmother said, “Now I know why women call attractive men hot. Must be a reference to how firefighters are around flames. Do you suppose they have to be handsome to get the job?”