“I’m glad,” I say quietly. “For what it’s worth, I thought you did a good job.”
He throws me a quick look. “Really?”
“You’re a natural.” I readjust my position in the passenger seat, peering out the window. Even though I’ve lived in Cashmere Cove for almost nine months, I still don’t know all the nooks and crannies. There are whiskey barrels overflowing with petunias lining the streets, and the antique-looking streetlights glow overhead. As we near the downtown strip, I find myself smiling as tourist families lug their inflatables and colorful beach towels away fromthe public beach. Ahead, the water tower is being re-painted a shade of sky blue. I feel at home here. It’s nice.
I realize Collin hasn’t responded, and I look at him.
He catches my gaze and smiles.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing. Just remembering this moment. Unprompted praise from you. I’ll take it.”
“I’ve praised you before.”
“Have you?”
“I’m sure I have.”
“I don’t think so,” Collin says. “Name one time.”
“Well, how about when you were the manager at the comm center and you brought in donuts on Fridays. I praised you for that.”
“No you didn’t. You would nod at me when you passed by on your way to retrieve your cruller. No words were uttered.”
I frown. That can’t be right. “Well, belated thanks, then. Those donuts got me through a lot of Fridays in the call center. Now I feel bad that I didn’t say anything. How do you even remember that?”
He shrugs. “You’re a hard woman to forget.”
“I—” I stop myself because what am I supposed to say to that? I refuse to think about how butterflies are swarming my stomach again. We all know what happens to butterflies, so I switch gears. “I feel bad about lying to your mom. She’s really sweet.”
Collin takes this in stride. He sighs. “She’s the best. If it were up to me, I’d tell her.”
“It’s not up to you?”
He lets out a humorless laugh. “Not where my dad is concerned.”
I hum. “What’s the deal with him?”
“How much time do you have?”
I shoot him a look. “All night.”
He cuts me with a quick glance. “Okay, then.” He turns and drives us back toward the water.
He pulls over in the parking lot outside Lighthouse Park. It’s empty except for us. I step out of Collin’s car and wrap my arms around myself. A breeze whips against my hair, and it’s not that the summer evening air is cold so much as I’m not used to being without the sun.
“Let’s go.” Collin gets out of the car, tossing me a CCPD sweatshirt from the backseat.
I catch it and pull it over my head, grateful for the instant warmth. I’m swimming in it, but it feels so good against my bare skin, and it smells like Collin. “Where?” I ask.
“Up.” He points to the top of the lighthouse.
“How?” I didn’t know the lighthouse was accessible. No one’s mentioned it.
“I’ve got a key.”
I wait while he fiddles with the lock on the door to the defunct lighthouse.
