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’partment so’s new people could move in.”
    “Oh, I see. Well, do you think it would be okay if I came in and put your groceries away?”
    Alyssa squinted and cocked her head. “Are you a stranger?”
    Careful, Reece. The last thing he wanted to do was teach the little girl it was okay for her to let men she’d only just met into her house. “You know what? I kind of am, aren’t I? Tell you what. I’ll just leave these right here by the door and go find your mom, okay?”
    Alyssa shrugged and turned back to the TV. “Okay.”
    Reece poked his head into the other apartment. It was totally empty and smelled like fresh paint. The music seemed to be coming from the first bedroom down the hall to the left, so he followed the sound.
    The sight that greeted him so captivated him that he planted one shoulder into the doorframe, folded his arms, and just watched. He could see now why Marie had been wearing the paint-spattered getup this morning at the grocery store. A large tarp covered the floor, and fresh paint gleamed on every wall but the one directly across from the door. Her back to him, Marie was painting it now. But she wasn’t just painting. She was dancing as she painted. And singing. Rather loudly, and rather well.
    She lifted the paint roller in front of her mouth, her bandaged finger poking out like an afterthought. She sang with gusto as she snapped the fingers of her other hand above her head and swung her hips, then rolled a couple strokes onto the wall before dipping into the tray near her feet for more.
    He grinned. He didn’t know this group, but she obviously knew the song by heart, because she had the words and her moves down pat.
    The song came to a close, and as the last beats blared, she spun around and tipped one wrist as though she herself were giving the cymbal its final stroke. Her gaze landed on him, and she squawked like a startled seagull and stumbled backward.
    “Watch out for the—!”
    Too late. Her foot landed right in the tray of white paint.
    Her eyes dropped closed, and she just stood there. Not even bothering to pull her foot from the tray.
    Reece couldn’t have stopped the chuckle that escaped if he’d tried.
    Her gaze flew to his, and she blew a frustrated breath at a strand of hair hanging over one eye even as a rueful smile begged for purchase on her lips. “Apparently I should have just stayed in bed this morning.”
    He tilted his head. “I’m glad you didn’t. Then we wouldn’t have bumped into each other at the store.”
    Her eyes widened, and she bent quickly to shut off her iPod and extract her foot from the tray.
    That was a definite back-off-buddy-you’re-freaking-me-out look in her eyes. He took a breath. Things were different. He’d have to tread with caution. Especially considering Alyssa had mentioned Dan had asked Marie to marry him, and she’d said “maybe.”
    Marie scraped off as much paint as she could with the side of the tray and then placed her foot gingerly on the tarp. At least there hadn’t been too much paint still in the tray. The white only coated the shoe to just above the level of the sole.
    He hurried into action and grabbed up the roll of blue paper towels lying on the tarp. Pulling several off, he handed them to her.
    She used the first couple to get a grip on the shoe and remove it—no easy task with the thick white bandage keeping her first finger at a stiff, odd angle—then set to wiping down the shoe as best she could. “What are you doing here?”
    He handed her another towel. “I brought your groceries. I didn’t want you to have to do that chore all over again tomorrow.”
    Her chin lifted, and she stilled for just a moment like a regal wild mustang trying to decide if it should stay and fight, or turn and flee. In the end she did neither. She toed off her other shoe. “You didn’t have to do my shopping. But, thank you. I’ll go get my checkbook. How much do I owe you?”
    He wanted to tell her not to worry about it,