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“Hey,” he greeted her.

“Hey yourself.” She smiled.

Wow, Cam thought. This is off to a scintillating start. Instead of borrowing Avery’s mascara, she should have asked her cousin for advice on how to make conversation without sounding like an absolute idiot.

“I’ve got wine for dinner.” Cam waved the bottle awkwardly. “I mean, I don’t know what you’re serving, so I don’t know if it will be the perfect pairing.” She stopped. Did he think she was talking about the wine, or something else? Wait, was she talking about something else?

“You look nice,” Ian said. “Did you do something… different?” He motioned to her hair.

“Well, I thought I’d clean up a little,” she said, noticing that he was wearing a button-down shirt under his Carhartt jacket instead of his usual heavy hooded sweatshirt. “Shall we?”

He opened the door to his truck, and as Cam predicted, it was filled with the sweet smell of cut wood along with a definite note of motor oil. Ian turned his truck down Main Street and headed for the outskirts of town.

“I’m renting a little place out on Silver Shores,” he said, mentioning the name of a neighborhood outside of town, along the water. “It’s not a palace, but it’s a good little house for the kids. And I bartered with the landlady. I’m fixing up a few things around the property in exchange for reduced rent.”

Cam nodded and then felt silly because it wasn’t like he could see her in the darkness, which in turn just made her feel self-conscious. She wasn’t used to feeling off-kilter like this.

“Sounds nice,” she said, thinking that, if her conversation skills were any less sparkling, Ian would probably quickly realize that he’d rather spend the evening chatting with his toolbox.

“I was surprised that you reconsidered tonight,” he said, turning into a short driveway. The headlights hit a snug cottage that Cam guessed was from the 1950s, with faded yellow paint. Multicolored strands of Christmas lights wrapped the pillars of the porch, and a kids’ bike had been tossed on its side on the lawn.

“I have to admit, I was a little surprised myself,” Cam answered. “I mean, no offense—I just… I don’t usually do this.”

“Do what?” Ian laughed as he threw the truck into park. “Let someone else cook for you? Or accept dinner invitations from irresistible men?”

“All of the above,” Cam answered ruefully. Her emotions were pinballing from unease to attraction as she followed Ian inside. She was starting to regret saying yes.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Cam was immediately hit by the scent of Bolognese sauce—beefy with sharper hints of tomato and just a tinge of garlic. She inhaled appreciatively.

“Mmmmmm, that smells great,” she said. “Bolognese?” She looked at Ian with a new sense of wonder. In addition to being an incredibly hot carpenter and a decent fisherman, he could cook, too?

“I just call it meat sauce,” he said with a modest shrug. “I like to make big batches of things like that on the weekend, and we can eat leftovers during the week.”

Only after identifying the cooking smells did she look around the house. He led her through a small but cozy living room, where a large and somewhat worn sofa dominated the room, and into the kitchen. It was what design aficionados might call “retro,” with harvest-gold appliances, knotty pine cabinets, and a linoleum floor printed to look like bricks.

“It’s sort of a time capsule,” Ian said. “I’d love to pull this up and expose the hardwood, but that’s not in the cards right now. This house has four solid walls and a nice spot for the boat, and that’s plenty good for us for now.”

Cam hadn’t considered that Ian might be in a tough financial situation. It couldn’t have been easy for him to give up his steady work in North Carolina. Kids were expensive. And it definitely sounded like his ex-wife wasn’t contributing financially. The realization made the already tight knot in her stomach clench. It wasn’t just Birdie she would let down if she couldn’t come up with the money to pay Ian. Of course, he could find another construction project or sign on with one of the big builders, but the thought of leaving him—and his family—in a lurch weighed on her.

Cam looked around and saw evidence of the kids everywhere. Hooks on the wall held a small backpack and baseball hats, and a pile of schoolbooks sat on a side table, a bucket of Legos perched precariously on top.

“It’s really sweet,” Cam said. Ian took her coat and hung it up. “But it looks like you’re painting, at least.” She pointed to the far wall where small squares of different colored paint had been applied. It looked like someone was sampling different hues before deciding which to pick.

“I told Paige and Davis they could pick new colors for all the rooms,” he said. “I want them to see this place—the house, Silver Cove, the whole move—as a fresh start. So I figured fresh paint could help.”

Cam admired his optimism. “So which is winning?” she asked, studying the colors as Ian uncorked the wine she brought and poured two glasses.

“I think we’re leaning toward Coastal Crest.” Ian pointed to a gray-blue that reminded Cam of the color of his eyes. “Although it took some negotiation. Davis initially wanted neon green. Something to do with a video game character he’s really into now? I did tell them they could pick, but I’m not sure I could live with walls the color of an animated alien.”

Cam laughed. “I can understand that. Not exactly calming, right? And which one did Paige want?”

A flicker of chagrin flashed across Ian’s face. “Paige mostly wants to make me miserable these days,” he said. “I had a hard time getting her to care enough to cast her vote.”

Cam nodded in sympathy. She didn’t have any experience with teenage rebellion. When she was younger, she had tried so hard to be anti-Flora, which pretty much meant being a Goody Two-shoes. Good grades. Not making any trouble. Never giving anyone a reason to worry. “That sounds tough,” she said.

“I keep telling myself it’s a phase and that it will pass,” he said. “I just hope I’m right.”