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Administration. I assure you my business plan is quite sound,” she said primly. “The nostalgia was just a bonus. What about you? Did nostalgia bring you back or did you stay?”
    â€œI left to go to school, and didn’t really plan on coming back, but then my mom got sick and I came home to be with her. Somehow along the way I ended up buying a newspaper, and after that it seemed I was here for the duration.”
    â€œAnd your mom recovered, I hope?”
    â€œFully. She’s hale and hearty.”
    â€œThat’s good. And am I safe in assuming there’s no Mrs. Quinn Haslett?”
    The question, asked in a casually leading, yet upbeat tone, nearly caused him to stumble.
Safe how?
“Uh, no. I’m not married.”
    â€œGood.” She patted his arm right above where her hand was nestled in the crook of his elbow. “I’d hate to get you in trouble.”
    â€œWhat kind of trouble?”
    â€œWalking a woman home—while gallant—can be misinterpreted. Particularly by a wife.”
    â€œI could never be married to a woman who got jealous over an act of simple neighborly kindness.”
    â€œIt is very kind of you, though. I still wish Howie had warned me, though,” she grumbled.
    â€œIt’s my pleasure. And he should have.”
    â€œI’ll hate him in the morning, I’m sure. The sounds and smells of my place aren’t exactly hangover-friendly. And they start very early in the morning.”
    Gravel crunched under his feet in the small parking area in front of Sophie’s B&B, and the wide front porch with its fresh paint job and potted plants looked friendly and welcoming. “By the way, this place is looking really good,” he said as they climbed the three stairs up to the porch. Through the glass in the front door, he could see walls painted a soft blue and highly polished floorboards—and lots of boxes, ready to be unpacked.
    â€œThanks.” Sophie entered a number into a keypad and he heard the lock click open. “I’d offer you a tour, but . . .”
    â€œI’ll wait and be surprised.” He’d known the Palmer family, but the Palmers’ grandchildren had little interest in actually operating a B&B. He’d watched the building get more run-down and shabby each year until it was simply too much of a money pit, and he was glad to see it coming back to life.
    To his surprise, Sophie rose up on her tiptoes and pressed her cheek against his. It was friendly and casual, but Quinn felt like she’d poked him with a hot brand. “Thanks again,” she said, and disappeared inside.
    The short walk back to his place wasn’t nearly long enough for him to make sense of that cheek-kiss thing, but it did raise a very complicated question.
    What should he do about Sophie Cooper?
    Were
those signals of interest she was sending his way? Or just his own hopeful thoughts? Should he play his hand and ask her out, or bide his time and see how it developed? He could run her off by moving in too fast, but at the same time, he risked someone else swooping in and making a move before he made his. Magnolia Beach wasn’t that big, and a pretty, single,
new
woman in town would not be without offers for long—especially since Sophie was coming out of her hermitage now.
    And, of course, there was the
other
issue . . .
    Did he have anything to gain by fessing up to the truth of the matter? Or was that just asking for a problem he didn’t want? Wouldn’t that just be the shit-stirring-for-no-good-reason Sophie had just decried?
    The one thing he
did
know was that he wanted a shot at Sophie Cooper, and he didn’t want to screw that up.

Chapter Four
    Little men with pickaxes were poking at her temples and her mouth felt like she’d licked the beach clean, but Sophie was up the next morning at her usual time, cursing Howie Phillips and his stupid Firefly Tea.
    She wasn’t