Double Take. Leslie Kelly

mouth. “Sorry about that.”

      “S’okay. You might have been trying to decipher your messy writing, but the truth is, the sign’s also a bit hidden by some overgrown bushes.” She glanced back again, and he did, too, barely making out the sign. He hadn’t been exaggerating. “I’ll get somebody from the town maintenance crew to come out and trim the bushes. I guess the crew’s not prepared for newcomers who don’t know their way around so early in the spring.”

      “Thanks, though I should have seen it, even if the underbrush is a bit overgrown.”

      “Let me hit the lights and siren and turn you around so you don’t get beaned by a truck while you get to the correct side of the loop. Then I’ll lead you to your new home.”

      He wondered if she would argue, but she must have still been light-headed from her water voyage since she didn’t. That was good. Not only because the roads were twisty and, in some cases, made no sense, but also because of the possible condition of her cottage. He didn’t know Lindsey well, but he sure didn’t want to think about her walking in the door and getting a faceful of spiderweb or a lungful of dusty air.

      Jogging back to his SUV, he switched on the siren and light again then swung around, watching as she did the same. He led her the short distance to the fork, turned down the correct side and easily found his way to her new place. He had only lived on Wild Boar for a few months, but he was already familiar with just about every inch of it. There weren’t very many inches, after all.

      Pulling up in front of the old Wymer place, which was now empty since the elderly owner had moved in with her equally elderly, also-widowed sister in town, he drove around to the small cottage in the back of the property. The sisters clearly hadn’t given much thought to the condition of the place. Weeds choked the front garden, and the small fence lining the cobbled walkway sagged, as if on the verge of collapse. Paint was peeling off the cottage’s siding, and the front door was pitted and sorely in need of a coat of wood stain.

      Lindsey pulled up next to him and got out of her car, her shoulders slumping as she eyed what would be her home for the next couple of months. “Well, it’s not exactly as I pictured it.”

      “Couldn’t you stay at your friend’s house while she’s gone? Isn’t she staying somewhere near the hospital on the mainland close to her baby?”

      “Yes, but her husband works here, and he’ll be at home most work nights. I barely know him. It would be really awkward.”

      That did pose a problem.

      “Maybe it’s not so bad inside,” she said.

      He heard a note of optimism in her voice and didn’t have the heart to disagree. Hoping she was right, he pushed open the creaky gate and walked up onto the porch, the boards of which sank beneath his feet with every step. “Dry rot,” he said. “Be careful coming in and out of this place.”

      She nodded. “Mrs. Wymer said the key is under the mat.”

      “Let’s hope that part of the porch hasn’t collapsed and the mat’s not covering a giant hole,” he said, bending to check. Fortunately, the flooring was still intact and the key was in place. Retrieving it, he rose and unlocked the door. “Why don’t you let me go in first? I can’t say for sure there are wild animals in there, but I wouldn’t be surprised if a raccoon or some squirrels had made a home out of your cottage.”

      “Oh, God, when does that ferry leave again?” she mumbled.

      Considering that by the end of their journey, she’d appeared ready to drop to her knees and kiss dry land, she, too, must be very concerned about what they would find behind the locked door.

      Fortunately, though, they were both wrong. Because, while Mrs. Wymer might not have been able to do anything about the outside, as soon as he pushed open the cottage door, he realized the inside had been cleaned and freshened. The air smelled of pine and the wood floors gleamed. The cushions on an old-fashioned sofa had been plumped, and fresh flowers sat on a coffee table in front of it.

      “Thank heaven,” Lindsey said as she walked in, a smile breaking over her face as she looked around her new home.

      There wasn’t much to see, and he could glimpse almost all of it from right where he stood. The front door opened into a decent-size living room. To the left was a small kitchen, and through a door to the right he spied a bedroom with, he had to note, a nice-size bed.

      Don’t think about her bed. Mentally going down that road with this sexy woman would lead only to frustration and a need to get reacquainted with his hand.

      “You really had me scared for a minute,” said Lindsey.

      “I was scared myself. She must have hired somebody to come out and get things ready for you.”

      Lindsey was crossing to the kitchen table, where a plastic-wrapped plate of cookies sat, decorated with a bow and a card. She opened it. “Yes, this says that’s exactly what she did.”

      “Excellent.”

      “Oh, I needed this so much I think I’ll offer her a kidney if she ever wants one. She says she left coffee, sugar and creamer, too!” She immediately turned toward the pantry, opening it and cooing when she spied a can of dark grounds.

      Without waiting for an invitation, he went over to the coffeemaker and began to fill the pot with water from the tap. The two of them worked together, falling into a routine that was as normal as it was unexpected. They just...synced.

      After the coffee was brewed, she poured him a cup without even asking if he wanted one. He took it, added some milk then joined her at the small kitchen table. She sipped at her mug, closing her eyes and sighing with pleasure.

      Man, he liked how she looked when she was enjoying herself. Of course, he’d also liked how she looked on that boat, when she had not been enjoying herself.

      “Want a cookie?” she asked.

      Mrs. Wymer hadn’t been among those who’d offered him baked goodies, but he wasn’t about to refuse a homemade chocolate chip. He helped himself. Lindsey did not take one, still a bit green around the gills and content with her coffee.

      “I should probably warn you,” he said, “this part of the island is really deserted this time of year. You won’t be having any neighbors stop by to borrow a cup of sugar.”

      “I noticed.” A tiny frown line appeared between her eyes. “I never had neighbors borrowing sugar before, but this quiet will still really take some getting used to.”

      “No doubt about it. I live right downtown and I still haven’t gotten used to how sleepy it is, even there. It’s just a different lifestyle compared to anywhere on the mainland.”

      “What about the rest of the lifestyle? Have you gotten used to that?”

      He wished he could reassure her, but he really couldn’t. “I think if you weren’t born here, it’s very hard not to feel like an outsider.”

      “Cliquishness?”

      “Not really,” he said, remembering all the offers he’d gotten from his new neighbors and colleagues. “The people are friendly...it’s just there’s a lack of common ground. Islanders have different outlooks, backgrounds, experiences.”

      “Sounds a little lonely.”

      He sipped his coffee, considering her observation, and then nodded. “I guess it is, but maybe that’s my own fault. I’m just out of step with the locals.”

      “I feel a little out of step with people no matter where I am,” she admitted, gazing at the dark, steaming liquid in her cup.

      She sounded as though she was speaking more to herself than to him. Interesting that a woman this attractive didn’t feel like she fit in anywhere.

      “You’d think with all this loneliness, you’d at least get some privacy here,” he said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. “But you