Page 35 of Escape to Lighthouse Cove

He glanced at the items he’d laid out on the table—a packet of spaghetti, a container of mushrooms, some lettuce, and a can of tomatoes. “I thought there would be a little more to make something with,” he told Grace ruefully, ready to leave the conversation about the past behind. “But the pickings are looking pretty slim.”

She smiled at that. “I’ve still got plenty of food back at my place,” she told him. “Isaiah stocked my fridge and pantryverywell. Why don’t we have dinner there?”

Surprised, Noah didn’t reply for a moment. He hadn’t left the estate grounds in months. He hadn’t been in someone else’s home in over a year. Since Grace Wyatt had arrived on Lighthouse Cove Island, he’d done quite a few things he hadn’t in a long time. And he needed to eat.

More importantly, he wanted to.

“If you’re sure…”

Her gaze rested briefly on him in a way that felt weirdly important. “I’m sure,” she said.

19

Somewhat predictably, Isaiah politely declined Grace’s invitation and so it was just her, Noah, and Jacob walking back to the warden’s lodge under a brilliantly setting sky, the horizon ablaze with vivid streaks of magenta and orange.

It was becoming fairly obvious that the caretaker was trying to manage an unsubtle bit of matchmaking, and Grace told herself not to mind. She wanted to spend more time with Noah, anyway, and she hoped they were becoming friends. She didn’t think either of them were ready to think about anything else, especially after her ridiculously outraged moment in the kitchen. The more she thought about it, the more she knew that had been about Brad and not Noah.

Jacob skipped along, looking for interesting rocks along the road, while Noah fell into step alongside her, matching his usually long-legged gait with her shorter one. He was dressed as he often was, in faded jeans and a sweater with holes in the elbows, his hair a little shaggy, his navy eyes narrowed against the setting sun. Glancing at him sideways, taking in the clean lines of his cheek and jaw, Grace felt a pleasant little jolt of awareness.

Emotionally she might not be ready for something else, but her body seemed to be saying otherwise, tingling to life at the simple sight of him. When he’d touched her earlier, barely a brush of his fingers across her shoulders, she’d practically jumped with that same electric shock of awareness. She was pretty sure he’d noticed too, which was far too embarrassing to let herself think about, but she hadn’t had a lot of bodily contact with an adult male in the last six months. Her body seemed to be intent on reminding her of that fact.

As they passed the huddle of fishermen’s cottages, Grace waved to Bab who was standing by the sink, her gaze widening in surprise as she caught sight of Noah strolling next to her. At the next cottage over, Jethro, whom Grace had only seen from afar, stumped onto his front porch with a slam of the screen door.

“That’s a Lawrence there, ayuh,” he remarked to no one in particular.

“Noah Lawrence!” Noah shouted back in confirmation, and then smiled ruefully at Grace. “They’ll be talking about this for weeks.”

“Months,” she replied, and he laughed softly. Mainers might like to keep themselves to themselves, Grace reflected, but they still seemed to enjoy some—or even a lot of—speculation.

“Here we are,” she announced as she came to her own front porch. Even though she’d only been on Lighthouse Cove Island for a short while, it already felt like home.

“I don’t think I’ve been in here since I was a kid,” Noah remarked as Jacob raced ahead to the living room and the joys of the iPad and Grace kicked off her shoes by the door. “In fact, I know I haven’t.” He glanced around the cozy kitchen with its island and deep window seat overlooking the water in appreciation. “This place has definitely had an upgrade.”

“So I’ve been told,” Grace replied with a laugh. “I love it.”

“I can see why.” He propped his shoulder against the sub-zero fridge, his gaze sweeping over the room once more before coming to rest on Grace herself in a way that was equally admiring. “It’s a great space.”

“I feel like I should say thank you, but it had nothing to do with me,” she told him as she started opening cupboards and getting various ingredients out. She wasn’t much of a cook, she’d never had the opportunity, but she liked throwing things together. “How about pasta with lemon and fresh basil?”

“Sounds perfect.”

She nodded toward the wine fridge below the island. “There are a few bottles in there if you want to get one out.” Did that make it too date-like, she wondered with a frisson of panic. Did it matter? He’d suggested wine back at Grayhaven, after all.

“Wow,” Noah remarked as he squatted down to inspect the fridge, “Isaiah really thought of everything.”

“He really did.”

As Noah browsed the bottles, Grace filled a pot for the pasta and then started grating a lemon. Outside the sun was sinking behind the hills, and she reached over to turn on the lamp that hung over the island, its warm light bathing the kitchen in a comforting glow.

Everything felt very cozy, she reflected, as well as companionable, in a way that was utterly unfamiliar and different to her old life. Back in their apartment, Brad had never even gone into the kitchen. To be fair, she hadn’t either. Their Cordon Bleu chef, Claudine, had scared her.

Noah straightened, a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc in his hand, his head cocked to one side as he glanced at her. Belatedly Grace realized she had stopped grating and was simply staring into space.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, his tone gentle.

She blushed. “Just… how nice this is,” she confessed. “And cozy.”

“It is very cozy,” he agreed. “And very nice.”