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  He grinned. “Morning.”

  “What can I get you?”

  He answered the same way he always did. “What do you recommend?”

  Summer had begun to take it as a challenge. She tilted her head and contemplated him. What did he appear in the mood for today? “Cinnamon-raisin scone?”

  As always, he nodded, once. “Sounds perfect.”

  She forced herself to look away and grab the tongs from beneath the counter. Shawn’s scones were almost perfectly symmetrical, but she still found herself looking for the biggest, most perfectly golden one to give to the man. He deserved that much as one of their most faithful customers, didn’t he? After sliding it onto a plate and setting it on the counter, Summer filled a paper cup with black coffee and pressed a white plastic lid onto the top of it. “Anything else?”

  “Actually, yes.” The man tugged the wallet from his back pocket and withdrew a five. “I’m new to the area, so I was wondering if you could recommend any restaurants in town.”

  Summer hadn’t eaten at any of the restaurants in Elora. Why would she when Nancy was such a good cook, and Summer enjoyed sitting down to dinner with her and telling her about her day? Nancy had traveled all over the world and loved to share her stories, so she not only provided the food but the entertainment as well. Their plan to divvy up the cooking duties hadn’t really panned out after Summer got a job, but she brought enough treats home to her landlady that they were both perfectly content with the arrangement.

  “Actually, I’m new to town too. But Daphne here will be able to help you with anything you need to know.” Daphne had busied herself putting on a fresh pot of coffee, but Summer grabbed her elbow and tugged her over to the counter. “I’ll finish the coffee.”

  Before Daphne could protest, Summer had maneuvered her into place behind the counter and retreated to the coffee maker. She could hear the two of them chatting and laughing but didn’t look back until Daphne cleared her throat. “What do you think, Ana?”

  She shoved the basket into place and turned around. Both of them were gazing at her. “About what?”

  “Trying out Tony’s, the restaurant I recommended to Ryan, tonight.”

  Was her friend actually setting her up on a date? “Umm…”

  He held up a hand. “No pressure. Daphne thought you might be interested in getting to know the town a little better, like I do. If you’d rather not do that with a stranger, though, I totally get it.”

  So they were two people new to Elora trying to get to know the place better? Sort of like a civic duty? “No, it’s okay. I would like to try out some of the places in town. I haven’t had a chance to do that yet, since my new boss is a real slave driver.” She shot a heated look at Daphne.

  Her friend only smiled her dimpled smile and ducked out from between them. “I need to talk to Shawn about something. I’ll be in the back if you need me.”

  She was gone before Summer could stop her. When she turned back to the counter, the man—Ryan, apparently—was studying her. “What time do you finish work? I could pick you up.”

  “No, that’s okay. I’ll meet you there.” Summer had no intention of giving this man she didn’t know her address, or climbing into a vehicle with him. Besides, if she drove herself, she could make an excuse and leave early if the evening was a disaster.

  A slow smile spread across his face, as though he knew exactly what she’d been thinking, and warmth crept up her neck. “I should get to work.” She reached for the cloth she’d tossed under the counter and started wiping every surface she could find.

  “All right.” He lifted the scone and coffee into the air. “Thanks. I’ll see you tonight. 6:30 good?”

  “Sure.” Please go.

  For once, he didn’t settle at a table, but took his scone and coffee and headed for the door. Seriously, could the man actually read her mind? Summer shivered. That was a scary thought.

  Daphne pushed through the swinging doors and Summer smacked her a couple of times on the arm with the cloth. “¿Estás bromeando?”

  Daphne giggled. “No, I’m not kidding you. He’s a nice, good-looking, single guy. Why wouldn’t you want to have dinner with him?”

  Summer pretended to scrub at a spot on the white door frame.

  Her friend crossed her arms and contemplated her, a smirk on her face. “So you do want to have dinner with him. Then why are you upset with me?”

  “I’m not upset.” Summer leaned against the counter. “But I’m not convinced going out with a man whose last name I don’t even know is a good idea. What am I going to tell him when he starts asking me about my life? I hardly remember anything after university, and that was years ago.”

  “Oh, Ana.” Daphne wrapped her arms around her. “I wouldn’t worry about that. Judging from the way he looks at you, it’s not your past he’s interested in.”

  Summer pulled away and smacked her again with the cloth. “If this all goes horribly wrong, it’s on you.”

  “Fair enough.”

  The door opened and four older men pushed their way into the shop. Summer waved. “Buenos días, señores.” Sam, Pete, Howard, and Bob came in most mornings about this time, ordered coffee and food, and hung out in the back corner for a couple of hours. No doubt their wives sent them over to get them out of the house, as they were all retired.

  “Hola, Ana.” Sam tugged off his ball cap and ran a hand over his nearly bald head. “What’s on special today?”

  She laughed. He asked that every time he came in. The first couple of times she’d informed him they didn’t have daily specials because everything Shawn made was special. Now she simply pointed to whatever had come out of the oven most recently, since Bob preferred his pastries warm. “Carrot muffins today, Sam.”

  Pete clapped his hands. “We’ll take four and a round of coffees please.”

  After she’d retrieved their muffins and drinks and sent them off, Summer watched, a smile on her face, as Howard chucked little Jamie under the chin on his way to the table the four of them always sat at. How fun would it be to have a group of friends to hang out with? She’d had that in school, but did she still? As far as she knew, no one had tried to contact her when she was in the hospital, which likely meant the answer was no. Why not? Had she been too busy with whatever career she had to spend time with people? Sadness whispered through her but Summer pushed it away impatiently.

  Daphne nudged her in the ribs with her elbow and held out Summer’s red coat. Summer frowned. “Are you kicking me out?”

  “Yes, actually. I made an appointment with my hairdresser Wanda for you in ten minutes. She’s at WonderCuts, half a block up and across the street. And it’s on me. A peace offering for forcing you to spend the evening with a nice, friendly, gorgeous man with impeccable taste in…” she looked Summer up and down, a mischievous glint in her eye, “… baked goods.”

  Summer rolled her eyes. It was useless to even try to be mad at Daphne. The woman was off the charts on the likeability scale. Which was a little maddening. She grabbed her coat. “All right, thanks.” When was the last time she’d had her hair done? Summer almost laughed. It could have been a month and a half, before her accident, or as long as seven years ago. She had no way of knowing. Regardless, it likely wouldn’t hurt her to get it cut a little.

  She slid an arm through a sleeve as she headed for the door.

  “By the way,” Daphne called after her. “It’s Taylor.”

  Summer stopped and looked back. “¿Perdón?”

  “The man whose last name you don’t know. Now you do. Ryan Taylor.”

  Summer tugged up the zipper on her coat. Ryan Taylor. Obvio. Of course it was. About as un-Mexican a name as he could possibly have. Her father would not be impressed if she brought the man home to meet…

  She pushed open the door so hard the bells jangled wildly. That thought was wrong on so many levels. Chief among them being that she had absolutely no intention of taking Ryan Taylor anywhere. And if she did, it wouldn’t be
home to meet the parents who had lied to her.

  She had agreed to get her hair done, but only because her friend had offered it as a gift, and it would have been rude to refuse. It certainly wasn’t because she had any interest whatsoever in impressing the man.

  In fact, as Daphne hadn’t exactly given her time to consider the scheme she and Ryan had concocted, it would probably be a good idea to make a list of pros and cons before going out with him. If the idea came out a little too heavy on the con side, she’d cancel. Nothing was set in stone. And if they did go out, she could simply have dinner with him one time then go back to eating at Nancy’s house every evening. Ryan Taylor could pursue his civic duties to his new town without her.

  The thought sent her stomach roiling a little.

  As did the faint hint of smoke, still lingering in the air as she passed by the opening between the bakery and the building next door.

  Chapter Twenty

  Jude toyed with the linen napkin, running it over his fingers and scrunching it up in a clenched fist. When he realized it had become a wrinkled mess, he shoved it away from him in disgust. It’s just dinner. The fact that there could be more riding on this simple meal than on any other he’d ever eaten pretty much ensured he wouldn’t be able to enjoy a bite.

  He glanced at his watch. Again. 6:45. Would she show up? And why had he given Daphne a fake name? He sighed. He hadn’t really had much of a choice. If Summer’s father had mentioned him at all—and there was a good chance he’d been bluffing, since her parents would no doubt prefer that all memory of him be permanently erased from her mind—it wouldn’t have been in a favorable way. And he didn’t need to have anything else working against him in his campaign to get her back to the city. Trouble was, he’d have to try and remember to use it now with everyone he encountered in the small town, and to not call Summer by her real name either. Ana. He tried the name out, rolling it around on his tongue a little. It suited her, he guessed, although she would always be Summer to him.

  Jude glanced at his watch again. Almost ten to seven. How long should he wait? He’d give her until seven before heading back to—

  “I’m sorry I’m late.” Summer pulled out the chair across from him and sat down. Jude half stood, so abruptly he nearly knocked over his water glass. A few drops spilled onto the white tablecloth as he grabbed it. Smooth, Jude. He sank onto his chair.

  A small smile played around Summer’s lips. Lips she’d applied a light gloss to, he couldn’t help but notice. She’d dressed in a red blouse with rounded collars and black dress pants and wore her usual simple gold hoops in her ears. As always, she took his breath away. Had she gotten her hair cut? It looked different. Good different. For a few seconds, he simply stared at her then he cleared his throat, his cheeks warm. “It’s fine. I’m glad you came.”

  “Me too.” She glanced around the small Italian restaurant. “This place is lovely.”

  Is that why you’re glad you came? Jude shook his head slightly. “It really is. Daphne has great taste. In restaurants and employees.”

  “And husbands.” She deflected his comment away from herself smoothly. “Have you met Shawn?”

  “No, not yet. Although I already hold the man in high esteem. He’s some kind of savant in the kitchen.”

  Summer laughed lightly. “He really is. And he’s a great guy too. A big teddy bear.”

  She gazed across the room, over his shoulder. He gave her a minute to get her bearings. Why had she been late? Was she second-guessing going out with him? More than likely. Summer’s self-protection radar was stronger than most people’s. No doubt she’d made a list of pros and cons before finally deciding to take the chance. He hid a grin. What he wouldn’t give to see that list.

  She scanned the restaurant, clearly buying herself time to get comfortable. When her muscles relaxed slightly, Jude leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. Time to play a little, see if he could get her to slip up and give him any information he could use. “So what brought you to Elora?”

  Her smile faltered slightly. “I needed a change. I flipped through a book of maps, fell in love with the name of the place and the pictures of the mill and the river, and here I am. How about you?”

  “Same. Well, except for looking at the maps. Seriously, do they even make those anymore?”

  She laughed again. “They do, actually. How did you hear about the town?”

  How had this gotten turned back on him? Jude shifted on his chair. “I was tired of living in the city. This seemed about as far removed from that as it is possible to be and still be part of civilization.”

  “I suppose it is.”

  A server in a crisp white shirt, tie, and black dress pants appeared at the end of their table and filled their water glasses. “Could I bring you anything else to drink?”

  Jude looked at Summer. She nodded at her glass. “Water’s fine, thanks.”

  He shifted his gaze to the server. “For me, too.”

  The man looked slightly disappointed as he handed them both a menu. “I’ll give you a few minutes to decide.”

  “Thank you.” Jude took his menu and lifted it in the man’s direction. Summer had already flipped hers open. Evading more questions? He repressed a sigh and opened his own. With both of them dancing around their questions and answers, it could be a long evening. He studied her over the top of his menu. Not that he was complaining.

  She glanced up and caught him watching her. “What are you thinking of ordering?”

  He hadn’t read a word on the menu, and there were no pictures, like there were in most of the places he’d been eating lately. Jude pretended to peruse the offerings. “I’m not sure, likely some kind of pasta.” It was a safe bet there’d be a few of those kinds of dishes at an Italian restaurant, right? From the aromas of tomato sauce and garlic drifting from the direction of the kitchen, he probably couldn’t go wrong with anything he selected. “Rigatoni, maybe? Hard to choose, since they all sound delicious. What do you think?”

  “That does look great. I think I’ll try the Pasta alla Norma.”

  The words flitted around on the page, and Jude gave up and closed the menu. The server set a basket of bread on the table. “What can I get you?”

  Once they’d ordered, Jude took her menu and handed both to the man, who thanked him before heading to the kitchen. Summer intertwined her fingers on the table and contemplated him. “What is it that you do?”

  He’d anticipated that question. “I’m a writer.” That would explain why he was free to hang out in coffee shops during the day, right? She had no way of knowing what he did on his laptop while he was there.

  She tilted her head and Jude swallowed. She wore her long dark hair up at the coffee shop, so he hadn’t seen it like this in a while, dark curls splashing down over her shoulders.

  He blinked. Had she asked him something? “I’m sorry, what?”

  That little smile flitted around her mouth again. “I asked you what you write. Anything I would have heard of?”

  “I doubt it.” No books, or she could go online and discover pretty quickly he’d made his career up. “Articles mostly, for health and science magazines and websites.” The lies slid a little too easily off his tongue. Hidden identities, secret pasts… how had the two of them ended up in some kind of Shakespearean drama? Time to shift the spotlight back to her. “Do you read much?”

  Summer reached for a piece of bread and took her time spreading butter on it. Was she trying to remember? What must that be like, not being sure of what you liked or didn’t like or anything you’d done in the past few years? He couldn’t imagine.

  “I do love to read, but I haven’t had much time for it lately.”

  “I get that. Unfortunately, it seems to have become a luxury in our society.”

  “That’s true.” She set the bread down on the small plate without taking a bite. “When I was a kid and through my teens, I read all the time.”

  He smiled, picturing her. “What types of bo
oks?”

  “Anything with horses. Mysteries. Fantasy. Pretty much anything my… that I could get my hands on.”

  Had she been about to say anything her parents would let her have? They’d been strict, hadn’t allowed her a lot of what they considered frivolous pleasures, from what he’d heard. His fingers crumpled the napkin in his lap again. Should he press her on that? It was standard first-date conversation, so she shouldn’t suspect him of having ulterior motives. Not that this was a date, exactly. “Do you have family nearby?”

  The lines around her mouth tightened a little. “Only my parents, north of Toronto. No siblings.”

  He was about to ask more about them when the server returned with their plates and set one in front of each of them. Jude breathed in the tantalizing aroma of pasta and spices curling up from his dish. Maybe he would be able to enjoy it. A bit, anyway. He leaned back as the man grated pepper and parmesan over Summer’s pasta and then his.

  He knew her well enough to know that she’d fire a question at him as soon as the server left, trying to redirect the conversation that had wandered a bit too close to the bullseye. He had the distinct advantage here, knowing pretty much everything about her when he was still virtually a stranger to her, but he’d held the advantage with her so rarely in the past, he was going to enjoy it and not feel guilty. Besides, these were desperate times. He was prepared to use any tool in his box to achieve the ends he was working toward.

  Summer met his eyes before the server was three feet away. “What about you and your family?”

  That one struck the target. Of course she’d ask about that. Why hadn’t he prefabricated his answers for that line of questioning? Summer studied him as though reading his face as easily as she’d read all those books as a kid. “Not a comfortable topic, I take it.”

  Jude blew out a breath. “No, although fair game, since I was the one who brought it up.”

  She reached for her fork. “Even so, we don’t have to go there if you don’t want to. Since this is simply a foray into exploring all our beautiful town has to offer and not a date or anything, why don’t we agree that we both have veto rights over any topics that come up that we would rather not get into tonight?”