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Wes nodded rather than rushing to answer. That was another thing she liked about him. Silence did not seem to make him nervous.

Kate looked around the kitchen again. “What about you? Have you done much to this place?”

“A little over the years. Mostly things that needed doing. Windows, roof, some work in here. I’m not against changing things. I just don’t see much point changing something that already works.”

“You realize that is a dangerous thing to say to a designer.”

“I thought you just told me the kitchen worked.”

“It does. I might let you keep it.”

“Good. I was worried.”

She smiled into her coffee. None of this was a performance. Wes did not seem to be trying to impress her, and Kate had stopped feeling as though she needed to keep the conversation moving.

She could imagine him here in the mornings before the orchard woke properly. Coffee at the same table. Boots by the door. Papers carried in and dropped onto the same stretch of counter. And where was she, in that picture? Kate ran her thumb along the rim of her mug. She had put herself in the chair opposite him without even noticing. The thought was more intimate than she expected.

Wes rested his forearms on the table. “You’re quiet.”

“Just thinking.”

“About my terrible kitchen?”

“No.” Kate looked at him. “About you being here.”

His expression changed slightly. She wished immediately that she had chosen different words.

“I mean, this is the first time I’ve seen where you live. Everything else has been the orchard or my parents’ place or the dance. It’s different.”

“Good different?”

“Yes.” The answer came easily.

Wes looked down at his coffee for a moment, then back at her. “I’m glad.”

Outside the kitchen window, the last of the light was fading from the orchard. The rows closest to the house were still visible, but the mountains beyond them had begun to merge into the deepening sky. Kate glanced at the clock.

“I should go. I told Dad I’d be back before it got properly dark.”

Wes stood with her. “I’ll walk you out.”

“You don’t need to.”

“I know.”

He took her empty mug anyway and set it beside the sink before following her to the back door.

Kate pulled on her jacket. Wes pushed his feet back into his boots and opened the door for her.

Cool air moved into the kitchen. Outside, the porch boards creaked beneath their feet. A light had come on at her parents’ farmhouse in the distance, warm through the trees.

Wes slipped his hands into his pockets. “I can walk you back.”

Kate looked toward the boundary. She could have found the path with her eyes closed by now. “You don’t need to. I know the way.”

Wes nodded.

Neither of them moved.