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shoulder his way through a mass of people to make his way to the bar. The pub was crowded nearly to capacity, with customers lined up along the bar ordering drinks, and waitresses hurrying to and from the tables with trays of food. The clamour of jovial talk and laugher reminded him of the atmosphere of the inn when his father had owned it, back when Jason was a young boy, and to see the place revived this way caused a hitch of emotion in his chest.
    He caught sight of Abby at the other end of the bar, chatting with the bartender, her elegant hands in motion as she explained something to him. Pink-cheeked and beaming, she looked pleased that her hard work had paid off in a triumphant opening night.
    Then her gaze caught Jason’s and held it a moment, her smile slowly broadening, and the catch in his chest bloomed into a warm rush. He returned her smile, releasing a slow breath. He’d come here with no idea what to expect, from the inn’s opening or from Abby. His plan, after all, had fallen apart irrevocably; though he’d been determined to steer clear of physical involvement, the last time he saw her she’d pried herself out of his arms, with obvious reluctance. Not that he’d been entirely responsible for what happened—he’d suggested a swim, but she’d volunteered to go into the pool in that clingy transparent slip.
    Abby made her way toward him along the inside of the bar, maneuvering around the harried bartender. “Jason, I’m so glad you came.” The colour in her face deepened as she approached him.
    “I wouldn’t miss it.”
    An awkward silence fell between them, as Jason tried to decide whether it was appropriate to lean over the bar-top and kiss her in greeting, or perhaps shake her hand; the options seemed either too familiar or too formal. He couldn’t help recalling how her warm, supple lips had felt pressed to his, the enticing taste of her mouth mingled with the familiar, spicy tang of Pinot noir.
    All at once he remembered the gift he’d brought with him, tucked under his arm. Thankful for the distraction, he set it on the bar-top. “This is for you.”
    Abby gazed down at the small framed portrait of a woman in a blue ruffled gown, her dark hair fastened atop her head with a spray of white flowers. Young and strikingly pretty, she stared up from the canvas with wide blue eyes, her pink bow lips curved into a gentle smile.
    “It’s stunning. Is this Rebecca?” Abby asked, her voice breathless as she looked up at him.
    “Yes, from 1810, when she was nineteen years old. This is a copy, but the original has been passed down through the generations in my family. You said you’d like to hang it here.”
    “Very much. Thank you.” Abby hugged the portrait to her chest, clearly delighted. “I saved a table for you, though it hasn’t been easy.”
    Jason gazed around at the ever-shifting crowd. “I can see that opening night is a big success.”
    “Yes, people were lined up outside an hour before we opened. It’s fantastic.” Her eyes examined his briefly, uncertainty flickering through them. “Would you like a drink?”
    “A beer, please.”
    “I’ll have Lila bring you one. Let me put this portrait someplace safe, and I’ll show you to your table.”
    “Will you join me?” he asked.
    Abby’s eyes darted sideways in an endearing moment of shyness, her cheeks again glowing. “Sure, for a few minutes.” She showed Jason to his table and, once the portrait was safely stowed away, joined him in the chair opposite his.
    “Are you hungry?” she asked.
    “Starved.” He picked up the menu, scanning it quickly. “Everything looks tempting. I haven’t had fish and chips in ages. But I really can’t resist prime rib.”
    “You might as well know, I’ve decided not to sell the place to you.” Abby’s words tumbled out as though she’d dreaded uttering them. “At least not now. If I were going to sell it, you’d be the one I’d sell to. And maybe I will, down the road. But