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seem very small. It was impossible to ignore him. However much she tried to pay attention to the road, he was what she noticed.
    He didn’t bother to make conversation. She wasn’t sure if that was a relief or if it left her to focus all the more on him. He just sat there in his leather jacket and stubbled chin, looking like something out of a blue jeans ad, looking like—
    Cady cursed and stomped on the brakes as the car ahead slowed suddenly.
    â€œA decent following distance might help with that,” Damon said mildly, though she noticed he reached up to grab the overhead handhold.
    â€œIf you’re going to be a backseat driver, change seats.”
    â€œYou don’t have a backseat.”
    â€œI know. So relax and enjoy the scenery.” She whipped over into another lane and onto the exit ramp.
    â€œI can’t see it with my eyes closed,” he said through his teeth as the truck swayed with the quick succession of turns she made on the city streets.
    Cady caught sight of a parking space and punched it to get through a yellow light and to the opening. “Well, you can open your eyes up now, sweet pea. We’re there.”
    â€œThank God,” Damon said and slowly, carefully, released his grip. “Next time, I’m driving.”
    â€œThere won’t be a next time.”
    â€œI’m still driving.”
    The square before them was filled with the color and hubbub of the farmers’ market. Canvas-tented booths in blue and green and yellow displayed boxes of lettuce in a bewildering variety, pyramids of the fall’s apples and potatoes and cabbage. Hothouse tomatoes provided flashes of red next to the vivid purple and green of rhubarb. Even though it was barely eight, the market was bustling.
    Catching sight of a stand selling pastries, Cady made a quick beeline for it.
    Damon came to a stop beside her. “What are you doing?”
    â€œBreakfast,” she told him. “It’s the least I deserve after making the drive.”
    â€œAre you kidding? I’m the one who ought to be rewarded for surviving.”
    â€œFine. You can buy us both drinks. I’ll take a Coke.”
    â€œAt eight in the morning?”
    â€œIt’s the best one of the day. What do you want here?” She gestured at the pastry and pulled out her wallet.
    â€œA corn muffin, I guess,” Damon said, lining up before the coffee urn.
    â€œA corn muffin and a cheese Danish,” Cady ordered.
    They made their way over to a bench, exchanging booty. He watched her as she took a bite of Danish, washing it down with a swig of cola.
    â€œYou know you’ll die young eating like that?”
    â€œThat’s what people tell me,” she said, licking crumbs off her fingers with relish.
    â€œCream cheese and Coke. I don’t even want to think about what that combination tastes like.” He took a swallow of coffee.
    â€œIt’s not about the taste, it’s about the sugar rush, although you’d be surprised if you tried it.”
    He gave her a pained look. “Someone needs to educate your palate.”
    â€œMy palate’s doing just fine, thank you very much. Okay—” she balled up her napkin “—let’s get going.”
    Damon swallowed the last of his muffin. “That didn’t count as part of the hour, by the way.” He tossed his trash into the nearby barrel. “The clock starts now.”
    â€œThen get going.”
    It wasn’t what she’d expected. She’d thought it would be like going grocery shopping—pick and buy, pick and buy. Instead, Damon wandered down the rows aimlessly, stopping at this stand to sniff at a shiny red apple, that one to weigh a bunch of rhubarb in his hands and stare thoughtfully into space.
    â€œYou know, that’s the fourth place you’ve checked out the lettuce,” she said as he examined yet another head of brushy green stuff.
    â€œDo you buy a car