Wedding Willies. Victoria Pade

“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. What I meant was, I have two apartments above my restaurant—” He poked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction from which he’d just come. “I live in one of them and I rent out the other to college kids when school is in session. But my extra apartment is vacant for the summer, and since Kira and Cutty’s new house is torn up with the remodel—and since you’ll be using the restaurant ovens to make the wedding cake anyway—we thought it would work out for you to use the empty apartment while you’re here.”

      Kira had told Kit all that. But she liked listening to the sound of Ad Walker’s voice so much that she didn’t mind hearing it again.

      “I hope it isn’t an inconvenience for you,” she said rather than letting him know he’d gone through that entire explanation for nothing.

      “Nope, not at all. They’re two completely separate apartments so I won’t even know you’re there, and you won’t know I’m there, either.”

      Somehow Kit doubted that even separate apartments could wipe away the knowledge that this man was somewhere nearby.

      But she didn’t say that.

      She did, however, remind herself that she was in men-pause. She was taking a hiatus from men and romance and relationships after two huge fiascoes that she took full responsibility for.

      Ad Walker picked up her suitcase. “My place is just up the street. I thought we could go there, get you settled in, and then maybe get you something to eat and drink while we wait for Kira and Cutty to finish up with the baby and come by. If that’s all okay with you?”

      “Sounds fine.” Kit took the shopping bag from the bench, explaining as she did, “I brought my own pans for the cake. I wasn’t sure how equipped you were for baking.”

      “Beyond the ovens, I’m not equipped for baking at all,” he informed her as they started off, retracing his path. “I do pub-style food—fish-and-chips, burgers, sandwiches, soups, a mean steak, ribs, barbecue, that kind of thing. The only desserts I offer are cheesecake and chocolate cake that I buy frozen from my food supplier.”

      “Oh dear.”

      Ad Walker laughed a laugh that rolled around in his chest as if it were a deep barrel. “Believe me, I’m embarrassed to admit that to someone who makes cakes for a living.”

      “I could teach you a few basic recipes that wouldn’t be difficult but would taste better than prepackaged, frozen, mass-produced, preservative-laden, not-much-of-a-treat desserts.”

      He glanced over at her, smiling. “You’d do that? Give up a couple of your world famous recipes to me?”

      “Well, maybe not the world famous ones,” she joked. “But I think I could be persuaded to teach you a few lesser-knowns for room and board this week.” And she was enjoying bantering with him much more than she wanted to be.

      “It’s a deal,” he said.

      They’d reached his restaurant and bar by then.

      A large neon sign proclaimed the place Adz. The front of the restaurant was mostly windows with dark green café curtains halfway up for the privacy of diners at the tables just inside. The doorway was recessed, and Ad Walker stepped into the alcove ahead of Kit to open the door for her.

      The English pub theme wasn’t only in the food. The dark wood paneling, dim lighting and booths that lined the walls around the freestanding tables all looked like they’d been taken straight from England or Ireland. And the long, carved, walnut bar with the brass foot rail and the full mirror behind it only added to the warm, friendly, casual ambience.

      “Nice,” Kit judged.

      “Thanks. I like it.”

      Ad Walker led her through the crowd that was eating and drinking despite the fact that Kit had seen so little life on the street outside. He used his backside to push open the swinging doors to one side of the bar and waited for Kit to precede him into the kitchen.

      The kitchen was impressively clean and much the same as most restaurant kitchens—a brightly lit space with sinks and stoves and ovens lining the walls, and workstations in the form of stainless steel tables in the center.

      Ad wasn’t paid a lot of attention by the staff, who were busy with their own duties, as he took Kit to the rear door and out into an alley.

      It was a very appealing alley, though. The street was brick-paved to make it look cobbled, the buildings were all painted, windows were shuttered, trash receptacles were enclosed and carriage lights provided illumination from both sides.

      “We’re up here,” Ad said, nodding to the wooden staircase that ran alongside the restaurant’s back wall to a wide, railed landing that accommodated two doors.

      Ad unlocked the first door they came to and then gave Kit the key that he’d used. Once she’d accepted it he reached in, turned on a light and waited for her to precede him inside.

      Kit did, finding a small studio apartment complete with a double bed and dresser in one section; a tiny kitchenette in another; and a sofa, matching chair, a desk and a television in another section.

      “The place is kind of bare-bones,” Ad said apologetically. Then he stretched out a long arm and pointed at the two doors at the opposite end of the apartment. “Left is closet, right is bathroom. I put clean sheets on the bed this morning, fresh towels are in the linen cupboard in the bath. The fridge is stocked with a few essentials but not many, and there’s no coffee or coffeepot, but whatever you want to eat or drink is yours for the asking from the restaurant.”

      He was right, the furniture was sparse and unassuming, but the place was neat and tidy and dust-free, the walls looked newly whitewashed, and all in all it seemed comfortable.

      “I don’t expect you to feed me the whole time I’m here but the apartment will do just fine. In fact, it’s cozy. I like it,” Kit assured him, meaning it.

      He lifted her suitcase over the brass footboard that matched the bed’s brass headboard and set it on the mattress as Kit put the shopping bag on the tiny kitchen table.

      They turned to face each other at about the same time and that was when Kit was treated to the sight of his eyes.

      The man had amazing, vibrant, bright aquamarine-colored eyes.

      And for a moment she got lost in them.

      Until his deep voice brought her out of it.

      “So, do you want some time up here alone or shall we just go down and get you fed?”

      Since she’d already used the rest room at the bus station, she said, “To tell you the truth I didn’t have time to eat all day and I’m starved. I think I’ll just take you up on dinner.”

      He smiled as if that was what he’d been hoping to hear, putting those intriguing creases down the sides of his handsome face. “Great. Let’s go.”

      They hadn’t closed the door and this time Ad stepped outside ahead of her, as if giving the place over to her as her own.

      Kit followed him out, flipping off the wall switch beside the door to turn off the overhead lights he’d turned on before. Then she checked to make sure the door was locked and closed it after herself.

      “I recommend the fish-and-chips. They’re especially good tonight,” Ad said as they retraced their path down the stairs. “But you can have whatever you want.”

      “Fish-and-chips it is. And iced tea if you have it.”

      They went back in through the kitchen and Ad told the cook they needed an order of fish-and-chips sent out. Then he took her into the restaurant once more.

      He poured two glasses of iced tea from a pitcher behind the bar before nodding to a small corner table that was free.

      “Let’s sit over there,” he suggested.

      “Don’t